CHAPTER 11The night was black, with no moon. My next problem was to get into the walled town. The road led along the river’s edge into the heart of the city, according to Gaston. The dictator’s stronghold lay at the edge of the city north of the highway we were on. He had fortified the area, enclosing shops and houses within an encircling wall like a medieval town, creating a self-sufficient community to support the castle and its occupants, easily patrolled and policed. It was no defense against an army, but practical as a safeguard against assassins and rioters.
“That’s us,” I said aloud. “Assassins and rioters.”
“Sure, chief,” Gaston said.
There was a glow in the sky ahead. From the road only a few scattered lights were visible. The countryside seemed almost unpopulated.
Twenty minu
