Men of Mystery

Rescuing Dolores

While Craig was writing his story and snapping photos and Cerulean was teaching Norton a lesson, Dolores went around her hotel looking for locals to interview hoping to gather background information. She found a wealthy looking lady, to whom she introduced herself.

"Hello, I'm Dolores Delvecio, a reporter from the United States covering the war in San Monte. May I interview you?"

The other woman looked contemptuously at Dolores out from under a wide brimmed hat. She was pretty and looked a little like Dolores, having dark hair, cut short. A fine, dark green silk dress covered the woman's thin frame, but she moved as if wealth and status were her birthright.

"Another time, perhaps," woman of wealth said slowly. She walked away slowly like she was balancing books on her head and into her room. Dolores shrugged and looked for others to talk to.

But the wealthy woman was only in her room a short time. Soon she left it and stealthily entered, Dolores's apartment. There, the woman placed documents that bore the official seal of San Monte, and then went back to her room to wait.

Seconds later San Monte police, wearing brown army uniforms, rushed into the hotel and spoke to the manager of the establishment. "Secret plans have been stolen. We have reason to believe one of your guests stole them. May we search the rooms?"

"Yes, of course," said the manager. "Always happy to cooperate with the police. Don't want any trouble..."

About an hour later, one police officer discovered the plans in Dolores's room. He went to speak with the hotel manager, who in the lobby by the registration desk.

"Who has rented room 104?" asked the officer.

The hotel manager, a bald man in a dark suit, checked the registration book. "The American woman, Dolores Delvecio."

The police found the reporter in the dining room talking for a local man. "Señorita," one officer began, "we found stolen secret plans in your room. You are under arrest for espionage."

Dolores nearly dropped her notepad from the shock, but she recovered herself quickly. "But I'm innocent. I don't anything about secret plans. I'm a reporter from America covering your civil war."

"That may be but a judge will now decide your fate."

Two more officer positioned themselves on either side of Dolores, grabbing an arm. Slowly they lead her away to jail. And it was there that Dolores sat all night bemoaning her fate.

It was a sinking, awful place, full of rats, mice, and filthy, wretched odors. Once or twice Dolores nodded off from fatigue, but it didn't last very long. Her cell had a high barred window but once the sun went down, she was in darkness. Blackness so complete she could even see her hands.

She found herself wishing for help from anyone, even Craig Crent, but it was useless. No one knew where she was and by the time they did, she'd be convicted and dead.

She tried to form a plan — a defense — for trial, but what could she say? She knew nothing of the plans found in her room. She was innocent. Surely, the judge would she that.

That was her only hope and in the morning, by the time sunlight began to pierce the gloom around her, she had managed to convince herself that the judge would understand.

Guards arrived, soon thereafter leading her out of her cell, down a short corridor, and into a small room of the jailhouse. At the far end of the room a man in a dark robe sat behind a high bench. Guards marched down the length of the space with Dolores and presented her to him.

"Here is the prisoner, Dolores Delvecio," said one guard. "The secret documents were found in her room."

"What do you have to say for yourself?" asked the magistrate. He had white hair and a heavy accent.

"I'm innocent," said the reporter. "I was interviewing local men and women in the dining room of the hotel all morning."

The guard shook his head. "We could find no one who said she had spoken with her."

"I have notes from those conversations in my notepad!"

The judge rapped his gavel. "I've heard enough. It is the judgement of this court that you are guilty of espionage . The punishment for which is death by firing squad."

The guards lead her away, this time out of the jailhouse and into a small courtyard with high brick walls. There, they tied her hands behind her and a line of men in brown uniforms with rifles entered, forming a line in front of her.

"Ready," said the commanding officer. "Aim."

Dolores looked at the men with weapons, staring at the guns pointed at her. So this then was her fate. To die as a convicted spy. She resigned herself to her fate and closed her eyes waited for the sound of gun fire.

Less than a second later, a mysterious blue figure came hurtling over the high brick wall, appearing just in front of Dolores as the commander spat, "Fire!"

The bullets hit Cerulean as he took Dolores into his arms.

She opened her eyes, saw the face she had seen before and smiled.

A second later Cerulean leapt over the courtyard walls to freedom, taking Dolores with him.

"Cerulean!" said Dolores. "How did you know I was here?"

"I keep tabs. After all someone has to look after you or you'll get yourself killed."

She smiled; he cared about her.

They landed near the La Fuerte. "Get on board. She's sailing back to America in the morning."

"But when will I see you again?"

"Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps never."

He leapt away. Saddened, Dolores walked slowly to the steamer.

The next day the La Fuerte left for America with Dolores, Craig, and Norton aboard. The munitions maker had already sent orders ahead to stop making gunpowder and explosives. Word all over the ship was that the civil war had ended. Major Sanchez was a hero having smashed through enemy lines and taken the opposing side captive.

Days later, the steam ship was docked in the Washington DC harbor. Craig and Dolores were speaking now and together they took a train back to the great metropolis they called home.