“Where is the pilot?” I asked. If Little Billy was close, perhaps a desperate escape might be the only way. I eyed the pistol on the table and wondered if it was loaded.
“Your ami eez safe in our custody,” the commissioner said.
He seemed reluctant, uneasy, and I wondered for a moment whether they had already killed him. The commissioner was an enigma. Was he not corrupt? Was he not without a price, or was he a true ideologue intent on serving his country? There was no way I could deal with an honest official. The concern must have showed on my face.
“Unnastan, yo frenn ees in ze compound in ze back o ma house, an you weel hear ze charges agains him.”
The commissioner produced a tattered, dog-eared handbook and started to speak. After a minute I realized something was wrong. He was hol
