Chance

by Carolyn M Bowen

  He kicked off his shoes and joined Isabella in the middle of the bed. He wished she wouldn’t wear a delicate scent of tropical florals when they went out. The smell was intoxicating, and he wanted to breathe in and touch her sexy body.

  He took deep breaths to regain his composure. Satisfied, he asked what she’d learned.

  Isabella confided what she knew about the soldier they saw in Chinatown. Family secrets were not as guarded as in the States. Even the military were much freer around their family and friends. They sometimes even boasted about their escapades.

  He thanked Isabella for the background information, and she reached over and cuddled his face with her palms. He hadn’t been touched by a woman in a long time and his body took over as she gravitated toward him. The sexy, sultry heat in her eyes said she wanted him. He responded. Their lovemaking lasted most of the night.

  As the sun was rising, peeking through the bedroom window, he remembered their evening and wanted to kick himself. This would complicate their relationship, and he didn’t need any distractions from his mission. He’d been in Cuba long enough, and progress had been slow for solving the mysteries he was sent to investigate. He didn’t want to be open to Isabella’s expectations of emigrating to the US with him, and last night added complications.

  Isabella quietly dressed, and he offered her coffee and toast with marmalade. She took the cup of coffee and declined the toast. The silence between them hung like a heavy mist in the air. He needed to say something—but what? He knew they’d both enjoyed their evening; or she was a talented actress. Should he thank her for the evening pleasures?

  When she clutched her handbag, he knew she was ready to go. She most likely had classes, as she was finishing up her medical degree at the university. He didn’t want her to be late.

  He dreaded riding up to her cousin’s house in the wee hours of the morning with Isabella. If he was lucky, he’d be asleep and not waiting by the door expecting payment for last night’s outing—not to mention what he’d figure happened afterwards.

  Walker thanked his lucky stars; Euquerio was still slumbering when they arrived. He’d catch up with him later in the day to make their agreed upon payment. From now on he’d make monthly payments, in case there was a repeat of the previous night.

  He and Isabella continued their outings to the popular hangouts. The locals were colorful and festive in their singing and dancing. Isabella and he now danced in the streets when they went out. She’d convinced him they’d stand out less by joining in. Memories of Sydney were fleeing. The longer he was away, the more he believed he’d never convince her he didn’t murder Roxanne.

  Isabella was excited about her upcoming graduation. She wanted him to attend, and he finally agreed to as an observer, away from her family and friends. They spent their nights together pleasing one another until completely saturated with bliss. He would miss her when he returned to the States.

  Isabella reconnected with her friend, Maria, wanting to find out more about her husband’s activities with the Chinese. Walker told her to stay clear of anything relating to her husband, for it could place her in danger. He knew with her graduation, she was ready to leave Cuba. She was trying to expedite his leaving, believing it was her escape, too.

  Isabella discovered the contents of the funnel-shaped box he saw Maria’s military husband hand over to the Chinese captain. The package was a camouflaged box of Cuban cigars from his commander in chief.

  Walker felt like kicking something. He’d been on a wild goose chase since arriving on the island. The only thing he’d accomplished was to make love to the most beautiful woman on the island. He didn’t want “failed to perform” on his records with the agency. Who knew what might happen? They might try to frame him for another murder for good riddance.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Fleeing Cuba

  Euquerio was driving a fare to a local hotel when he passed Isabella walking home from school. She was being followed closely by a military jeep. He feared for her safety, and thought it was time for Walker to leave and take Isabella with him.

  Euquerio arranged a meeting with a member of the family of the woman who was in the cottage with the CIA agent when he was murdered. He was walking a tightrope, juggling his love for his country and a clandestine arrangement with the US government spy agency. He wanted Cubans to prosper, and money flowed when the door was opened for Americans to visit and trade with Cubans.

  He’d discovered, quite accidently, that the woman with the murdered agent was taken, starved, and beaten until her reputation as a prostitute was confirmed by a high-ranking military official. Believing her relationship with the agent was a personal one, she was released. Days later, her body was seen bloated and floating on the ocean by a local fisherman.

  Euquerio was nervous about pinpointing the location for the meeting. Being a taxi driver, he thought it best they met in his cab and he’d drive to the countryside and back while they talked. Being known for taking tourists on excursions was the perfect cover, and he’d be glad when it was over. When telling Walker about his plan, he agreed, and they set the time.

  Walker left the cottage and jogged to the pickup point out of the way of spying eyes. Euquerio was rolling to a stop when Walker opened the back door, jumped in and said, “Keep moving.”

  The man waiting in the backseat wasted no time in giving him the details Walker had waited almost a year to hear. He was very specific with dates and times of the covert operations between the Cuban and Chinese governments.

  The Chinese were in cahoots with the Cuban government for the specific purpose of removing the American embassy from Cuba. They shared their technology to enable the attack. The Chinese didn’t want the US to infiltrate the communist country. Although the Chinese government could call in the $1.11 trillion of US debt for collection, this was a targeted attack to accomplish a specific result—Americans out of Cuba.

  The well-designed shanghai was effective for achieving their goals. The Americans were duped. The democratic process would take years of investigation and study before the mystery could be solved. The pushback from the United States was as expected, with personnel removal from the embassy and tighter trade and travel sanctions. Exactly what the Chinese government wanted—US presence contained.

  The US government would spend years with their top researchers combing the data for answers, and top security agencies investigating leads. In the meantime, Cuba would have less US influence. Their well-played strategy produced a win for the communist government.

  The cab driver, Euquerio, was driving them back to the city when they saw a military jeep blocking the sandy coastal road. An alarm went off in Walker’s mind, alerting him to get ready to defend himself and those with him. A Cuban soldier came up to the driver’s-side window and said, “Get out; we need to inspect your cab.”

  Euquerio slowly opened his door and moved away from the car. Walker nodded to the man beside him to duck, pushing him down with his left hand. When the soldier went to open the door, Walker drew, aimed, and fired.

  Walker said, “Get in, and let’s go!”

  Euquerio was shaken, but cranked the old Chevy and pressed down hard on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward and gained speed, unlike what you’d expect from an older American model. His taxi was pristine, and surely one of the finest you could ride in around Cuba, thought Walker. And, apparently, he’d tuned the engine to go faster, if needed.

  He dropped off the informant in a nondescript location close enough to walk home.

  After the informant exited the cab, Walker asked, “Where’s Isabella?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Euquerio.

  “Help me find her, and bring her to my cottage,” said Walker. “I’ll be doing the same. If you don’t hear from me again, she’s with me and we’ll be fine. She’ll send a blank postcard when we’re settled.”

  He dropped Walker off a way f
rom his seaside cottage and accelerated to the max home to see if Isabella was there.

  Walker was running toward his cottage, hoping Isabella decided to pay him a surprise visit. She knew where the key was hidden and could be waiting for him inside. He paid attention to his surroundings as he maneuvered in a crisscross pattern toward his cottage. Looking over his shoulder more than once or twice, he saw no military vehicles.

  He opened the cottage door with his key and hurriedly packed the few things he’d collected and extra guns and ammunition. He grabbed his vest for Isabella to wear in case of fireworks. Where was she? he wondered.

  Walker quickly called his commander and told him he needed an exit out of Cuba after sundown. He was bringing a passenger with him who’d helped in his investigation and was now in harm’s way.

  His commander agreed, and told him a pickup vessel would meet him in international waters. He was to take the skiff the former agent had hidden close to his cottage. He was not to use his running lights until he’d cleared the Cuban coastline. There was a navigation system and radio onboard. He’d get a signal when the vessel neared.

  “Damn it, why won’t Isabella answer her phone?” he said under his breath. Within minutes, Euquerio’s taxi came barreling up the street, and before he stopped, Isabella was out and waving goodbye. The taxi kept moving, and sped off in the direction of the market.

  Isabella carried her satchel over her shoulder and fear shrouded her face. He asked, “Is there anything of yours in the cottage?”

  She shook her head.

  “I suppose your cousin told you what happened?” he asked. “We’ve got to leave when it gets dark. We’re taking a skiff into international waters, where we’ll be picked up by a US operative.”

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “We’ve got to leave the cottage and hide near the skiff until dark,” he said. “I don’t want to chance my identity—or yours—being comprised and getting us arrested.”

  He looked down at her feet and was glad she was wearing sensible shoes, as high heels and floating vessels didn’t mesh well.

  He followed command’s directions, trudging through heavy tropical foliage and vegetation, bending and holding back brush for Isabella to creep behind him to their getaway spot and ride. They huddled close to the skiff. Walker placed his vest on the ground for her to rest on while they waited as the sun set. He hunkered down on his knees and kept a steadfast watch toward the ocean and behind them. When darkness fell, he untied the skiff from its mooring and said, “Climb aboard.”

  He eased the boat out from the shore, wading almost waist-deep before rolling his 6’5” frame over the side of the small vessel. He checked the navigation system and took the oars to row them away from the shoreline. He noticed the government food rations and blanket tucked beneath the starboard side. He hoped they wouldn’t need to use them.

  If they were lucky, there’d be no Cuban military vessels patrolling the coordinates he was given to navigate. He was glad Isabella tightly wrapped her long, auburn hair with a scarf. She could pass as a young male now if not observed too closely. This would lessen their chance of being spotted as spies or defectors on the open seas.

  The skies were pitch-black, with the quarter moon barely visible. The only sound was the waves lashing against the skiff as they rocked further out to sea. He checked the navigation system to be certain they were on course. They were.

  Isabella pointed to a vessel moving slowly on the water with bright spotlights searching the ocean’s surface. Walker killed their running lights and kept the motor purring toward their pickup point. When he saw the vessel turn toward the harbor, he waited until they were out of sight before switching on the running lights.

  The skiff pitched and heaved over the waves at a steady pace with the wind in their favor. He checked the coordinates to see if they were nearing the pickup point. With the sunrise peeking through the clouds, it wouldn’t be long. They’d traveled a distance during the night.

  Just over the horizon, he could see a fishing vessel approaching. The ship was too far away to discern the country of origin. When it got closer, he could identify the flag with the binoculars from his backpack.

  They were in international waters now, but he wouldn’t feel safe until they’d boarded the fishing vessel, Madeline Jane, sent to extract them and drag the skiff behind them into an American port. The commander said they’d be taken into the port of Miami to board a flight to Atlanta, where accommodations were made for their stay. He kept thinking Key West would’ve been a closer landing from Cuba, but perhaps heavily patrolled, escalating their chances of being captured by the Cuban naval forces.

  The fishing vessel was nearing, and he could see the American flag flying from her mast. Before he fired the flare gun, he wanted to be certain this was the right boat.

  Isabella had been silent most of the way. She’d gripped the wooden boat seat to keep from falling overboard as the skiff rose and fell, riding the crescents of the pounding waves. The few words she said were lost in the wind. Suddenly, she shouted, “I can read the name of the ship. It’s the Madeline Jane!”

  Walker smiled and said, “That’s our ride.”

  He fired the flare gun and the sky lit up like the 4th of July. There’d be no doubt; they’d seen them, he thought.

  The fishing trawler stayed the course directly toward them. His radio bleeped and it was the captain of the vessel, confirming their pickup. The ship came alongside their skiff and Walker motioned for Isabella to take hold of the hemp rope and swing herself onto the boarding ladder and climb aboard. He’d tie the skiff to the boat and propel himself into the vessel. When he landed safely, the captain headed the trawler eastward toward Miami. They were headed home.

  Walker called command when they arrived in Atlanta to find out where their lodging was located. Their hotel was an easy drive into downtown from the airport. Not knowing how long they’d be in Atlanta, they took a cab to the hotel.

  He didn’t know what the agency would do with him next. But he wanted to get Isabella settled where she could practice medicine like she dreamed.

  He hoped his gig with the company was up after spending over a year in Cuba. He knew that had to be too easy. They had him in their clutches, and he bet they wouldn’t let go.

  Walker called command early the next morning. Knowing what came next for him was better than worrying. There were also matters concerning Isabella he needed to discuss. He wanted to see her relocated to an apartment with a job before leaving.

  Command was cheerful when he answered. “How’d you like to work out of Atlanta?” he asked.

  “Well, I was hoping my gig was up,” said Walker.

  “No, sorry, your country still needs you.”

  “Where this time?” he asked.

  “First, let’s get you settled. Then we’ll talk about your future with the company.”

  “Why am I being assigned to Atlanta?”

  “The world’s busiest airport is there. You can hop an international flight to anywhere at the drop of a hat.”

  “I see.”

  Walker gave him information about Isabella, which he already knew. The commander feigned interest in her working with a medical group or hospital. Then he said, “You know a medical degree is a precious commodity in the CIA?”

  Walker chuckled. He didn’t want Isabella in harm’s way anymore.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.

  “No, we’d like you to continue working together as a team.”

  “I don’t think she’d be interested after spending years in medical school.”

  “Perhaps she’d like to practice in Cuba,” he said. “We can arrange her deportation.”

  “You’d do that after what she’s done for the agency?”

  “That’s exactly why we want her to be your partner. Look at the bright side;
she can set your broken bones and stitch up your wounds.”

  “But, what about her plans, don’t they matter?”

  “Not anymore. She’s in the US now.”

  The only good news was they’d be moving into a new home in an affluent metro Atlanta neighborhood the next day. Isabella thought his cottage in Cuba was plush; she’d think this was a castle.

  The agency had safe houses all over the world, and this was theirs for a while. Most likely to play a role in the larger scheme of things they’d be investigating. He’d know more after they were settled and enjoyed a few days of rest, according to the commander. Walker understood his meaning of relaxation. He was to convince Isabella to partner with him for company business.

  Walker knew he’d never sell the idea to Isabella. She was headstrong, with a mind of her own. She’d dreamed of being a physician in the US for a long time. He didn’t know how to get her to compromise until they could free themselves from servitude to their now masters. His only hope was to point out what could happen to her if she didn’t. She’d recognize the danger of being deported. After interrogating her, she’d be killed, and her family would be in danger too.

  They enjoyed their first night in the States and he told Isabella about their new home. She couldn’t believe the news. Her eyes sparkled with laughter and joy. She kissed him and danced with delight.

  “I’m sure there’s a hospital or medical clinic nearby,” she said. “I’d like to check out my options for working as a physician.”

  Walker knew he would burst her balloon when he opened his mouth. But it had to be done—the sooner, the better.

  He told Isabella what the commander had said. She sat stone-faced on the edge of the hotel bed with tears filling her eyes. “How long do you think they’ll keep us?” she asked.