by Bryn Bauer
Quint frowned slightly at Joe but made no other comment than to say “Happy hour and some dinner sounds great to me.”
Helena closed her eyes briefly as though relishing the thought of food. “I think we’re all reasonably presentable. Joe, get a cab for us dear.” She turned to Sofia as Joe moved ahead of them, “I hope that’s ok with you Sofia. It would have been fairly insensitive to drive the cars over here.” Before Sofia could respond, Joe shot back.
“And dangerous! Who knows what would have happened to them.” Helena scowled at Joe’s back and lowered her voice so Sofia had to strain to hear over the din of the street. “You’d never think that he’s known any different than he has now.” Sofia looked at Helena. The Irish face looked drawn and slightly paler than usual but her eyes sparkled and radiated excitement. Sofia found herself affected by them. She wanted to know what was going on, but Helena’s excitement drew her in, intrigued her, daring Sofia to be part of the adventure. It was becoming difficult to resist.
EIGHT
They arrived at The Forge having had little conversation in the taxi. Sofia guessed that they didn’t want to be overheard by the driver.
“Why did Joe choose this place?” Sofia was puzzled and asked Quint as they entered the bar area. The room walls were made of warm wood outlining graceful arches. The furnishings were impeccable but decidedly eclectic. While this glowed with energy and was certainly several sanitation grades above the other, it still didn’t seem like a place Joe would enjoy.
Quint lowered his voice. “Two reasons, one, he can feel like he’s young and hip and two, Veuve Clicquot happy hour!” Sofia’s eyes widened.
“Really? He struck me as more of a tequila kind of man.”
“Definitely. But Helena loves that champagne, and she loves him for remembering.” He smiled. “It doesn’t hurt that they do have amazing food and rare varieties of tequila of course.”
“Something for everyone, I guess” said Sofia.
“Let’s see if we can find something for you”, replied Quint, steering her with his hand on her lower back. The intimacy of the touch sent heat through her body.
Seated at a small walnut table, with their champagne and tequila, beautiful ceviche and orders in for an early dinner, Sofia told all of them what had transpired on the Mariana. She expected the memory to become more difficult with the telling, but to her surprise it became easier to handle. Though, Sofia had to admit that the Veuve Clicquot helped too. The soft bubbles numbed her bruised lips and the alcohol dulled her headache. She finished and looked up and said, “I can’t accept your offer without knowing exactly what happened and who you are.” The statement surprised her. Not the part about needing to know what was going on but that she was still considering their offer. After this afternoon she had meant to refuse all together but there was still a niggling part of her that wanted to know more. What was this about? What was the assignment? Who were these people? How did they operate? Would she like this kind of work?
Helena cleared her throat and looked at Joe. He put down shot of liquid gold and said, “We’re trying to help Mr. Jimenez, the man you met. He is from Santiago, Cuba. A few years ago the Cuban government saw their coffers dwindling and they needed a new income.”
Quint interjected. “Apparently tourism and cigars aren’t bringing them what they needed.” He nearly spat the words on the table as if his shot glass of tequila held the worm at the bottom of the bottle.
Joe held up a hand to forestall any more outbursts from Quint. “That’s not far off.” He turned back to Sofia and continued. “So the government, specifically Castro decided to profit from what he had left.”
Sofia looked quizzically across the table. “I didn’t think they had many exports or natural resources. My father mentioned that they may have at one time, but not anymore.”
Helena shook her head. “Just one, he’s using his people as both.”
Sofia was even more confused. “They can’t be a draw for off shoring. They don’t have a large knowledge workforce.” Helena shook her head and Quint let out a vicious bark of humorless laughter.
“In the most literal sense, yes.” Sofia remembered the appearance of Mr. Jimenez and the horror of his situation became clear.
“They’re selling them to the human trafficking rings?” She hadn't realized she had yelled until Joe shushed her.
“Exactly. Those rings sell them to foreign entities.” Sofia wasn’t terribly surprised, she’d come across the issue before in her father’s circles.
“It makes a strange kind of sense”, she said. “Human trafficking has been going on for years. Forever, really. I’m sure some of my father’s associates have supported it either knowingly or not.” She didn’t think that her father, for all of his flaws would be involved given that his grandparents were indentured servants at one time. But, she had been wrong about him before. She continued. “They talk about the bottom line, the need for more workers without paying more. So, there’s definitely a demand for that type of labor and now it sounds like there’s a ‘one stop shop’.
“Very perceptive”, said Joe. Sofia needed more clarification.
“But, how do they cover up something like that? There has to be U.S. surveillance over Cuba.”
“Not as much as you would think”, said Quint. “They’re more concerned with other parts of the world right now.”
“Ok, so why haven’t the people spoken out about it yet? They have to know what’s going on.” Helena put down her champagne flute and explained.
“Well, in 2005 there was the beginning of an uprising, not about human trafficking, but about jobs and living conditions and such. It wasn’t anything like what we have seen in the Middle East, but citizens were starting to lead minor protests, speaking out, and generally acting in a way the government didn’t like.”
Quint took up the thread. “So, what is the best way to keep people quiet?”
Sofia’s stomach dropped. “Fear.”
“Right.”
Sofia’s Law and Government class was coming back, “But fear only represses people for a while and drives the movement underground. It’s like a geyser. The pressure builds and then explodes into a revolution or some other violent movement.”
Joe shook his head, “Normally, but Castro has it figured out, you need an element of randomness, surprise.” There was a glint in his eyes that almost looked like admiration. It took Sophia aback. He must have sensed how he sounded and hastily went on. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s appalling. But, genius. All you do is accuse a person of traitorous behavior or dissention, take them away and sell them. To everyone else they’ve just disappeared. Just make sure to accuse some real dissenters and some that aren’t to keep people scared.
“It’s sick”, said Quint. “It’s like the rat experiment. When the rats are warned the electric shock is coming by a light, they prepare and get through it. The ones who receive a random shock with no warning are in constant fear, huddled in the bottom of the cage.”
Sofia nodded. “Essentially, any interactions have been crippled. No one wants to talk with anyone else for fear of suspicion because there’s no pattern.” Everyone was quiet. There was no need for affirmation. The waiter broke the silence by bringing their food. Despite the somber conversation, she was ravenous having only eaten fruit that morning. The savory aromas of risotto, duck and flounder activated her salivary glands. After savoring the first bite of her pan seared flounder, she plunged in with another question.
“So then, how are you helping Mr. Jimenez?”
Helena spoke with a twinkle in her clear hazel eyes. “Do you really mean ‘who are we’?
Sofia smiled, “Both”.
“I’m sure you gathered we’re not lawyers.”
“Not anymore, that is”, said Joe “I used to be in practice as was Quint. Now we do contract surveillance and reconnaissance.”
Sofia cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes “Are you telling me that you’re spies?”
Helena gave an easy laugh that lightened the moment. “Not exactly. Some of our work is with the US government but most is with private clients...”
Joe interjected. “Much more lucrative than government work.”
Helena gave him a look that infused martial chastisement. “Yes, I suppose it is. Really though, private clients are much more forthcoming with information and resources. Projects are much smoother. We’re working with Mr. Perez to get information that will help break the ring. Mr. Jimenez was incredibly brave in giving us information. In return, we’re helping to get him out of his current situation and bring his family to the US. Hopefully, they can get asylum status.”
“Well,” said Sofia, “That explains quite a lot about today except who my assailant was.”
Joe shrugged, “Probably no more than the local brute squad. Castro has some foot soldiers here that get paid to intimidate wealthy Americans who dare interact with the upwardly mobile Cuban-American contingent. The goal is to discourage efforts like the one we’re working on.”
That clarified matters a bit, but Sofia still wasn’t satisfied. “But, what did he mean by ‘tell your boss he doesn’t like to wait’?” Joe shifted in his chair and then downed the rest of his tequila before answering. “You’ve got me there. The guy likely got on the wrong boat. These guys are drunk most of the time. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll check it out though. If they’re on to what we’re doing then we’ll need to adjust the schedule a bit. In any case, we’ll need up step up security for the Mariana.”
Sofia pondered this briefly. If that were the case, how did the man know about the engine room? As far as she knew, he had been on the yacht less than three minutes before Sofia found him. Was it possible that he had just stumbled upon the secret surveillance room? The situation seemed somehow off, but at that moment her brain was a bit too fuzzy to dig deeper.
Helena laid a hand over hers. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m very impressed with the way you handled it.” Sofia smiled. She felt connected to this group. They were doing something worthwhile. When else would she get the chance to directly impact lives like Mr. Jimenez? Where else would she be directly helping to bring down a major player in a crime ring? This was something that would make a real difference to at least one person if not many. She squeezed Helena’s hand briefly then looked up.
“So, about this job...”
There seemed to be a collective sigh around the table when Sofia started asking questions. She had not known how much they wanted her to come on board until she made it clear that she was still considering it. Their eagerness came as a surprise and she was touched. She had been on several other interviews, though none like this. The other interviewers seemed bored with the work and indifferent to her as a candidate. Even her call to work with the non-profit organization was from a Human Resources person who sounded as though she made dozens of these calls a day. One candidate was interchangeable for another. Here on the other hand, the air crackled with anticipation and excitement about the job at hand. These were people who cared deeply about their work and with whom they worked. Quint had certainly been right; when he explained the opportunity in his office a week ago... had it only been a week? She smiled to herself behind her flute of champagne.
NINE
Sofia’s mouth nearly hung open upon arriving back at the gangplank from The Forge. She had casually mentioned taking two days to return to Charleston, gather her things and set other business in order. All three had stopped and turned to look at her. A chestshire cat smiled spread over Joe’s weathered face. Helena nudged him in the rib and said “Oh no, Sofia. We’ll be leaving tonight. We can’t risk another on-board incident. Joe is convinced it was bad timing, but just in case, we need to get going. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
Sofia turned her gaze to Quint who looked away slightly and shifted his weight from foot to foot. It actually made her a little sea sick to watch him. Or, she thought, that could just be my nerves. Every time I think I have a handle on this job, something throws me off balance again. Her usual sang froid was being seriously tested.
She cleared her throat and replied, “I see. I hate to ask the obvious question but, what will I do for clothing? I’ve only packed for five days at the most. I’m sure I have little that will be appropriate.” She continued, directing her questions to Quint. “And you mentioned that this assignment would be almost two months. I need to set up a way to take care of bills and other personal business.”
Quint finally met her eye, “Well, that’s the good news.”
Sofia tilted her head, “Oh?” His brilliant smile appeared showing a slightly chipped incisor.
“Helena will help you take care of that.” She turned to look at Helena who gave a slight nod while Joe bounced on the balls of his feet and responded.
“You have an expense account you know. So that, with my wife’s keen eye should set you up just fine for what we’ll need.” He continued, adjusting his tone to that of a patriarch addressing a child who failed a spelling test. “As for the other, we’ve put an advance in your account. A smart girl like you surely can take care of things remotely.”
Sofia’s ears perked to hear ‘your bank account’. The question ‘how do you know my bank account number’ died on the tip of her tongue. Quint, who could always read her thoughts, raised an eyebrow as if to say “I told you, they like to know everything about the people they hire.” She sighed and said, “Ok. Let me change. I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Is that ok with you Helena?”
“Perfect. I’ll phone the shops and let them know we’ll need help. Joe dear, can you call us a car so we can chat instead of drive?”
Joe squeezed his wife’s arm gently. “You really mean that you don’t want to drive my ‘monstrosity’ around Miami.”
She squeezed back. “I would never say such a thing.”
Joe replied, taking out his cell, “No, you didn’t say that.”
The car company must be located very near the bay, catering to the wealthy that harbored here. Sofia had only fifteen minutes before the Jaguar arrived. She had just slipped on shoes when Helena called down the passageway. “Come Sofia, we only have a couple of hours before these men will take the yacht and leave us.”
Only a couple of hours? Thought Sofia. She had thought they would be leaving near midnight. She felt another handle being pulled from her grasp and remembered another moment when she felt similarly. She, along with her mother and father were on their sailboat when an unexpected and violent storm came upon them. They were at their turnaround point, the furthest point from shore. There was no way to put into a harbor in time. She remembered hunkering down on deck with raingear, her mother and her struggling to hold on and walk to the safety area. She began to scream when she saw her father pull up the anchor, his face filled with fear but also excitement. Her mother looked down into Sofia’s nine year old eyes stinging with tears and rain. Her mother’s own face held a deathly grayish green tinge but she attempted a smile nonetheless.
“Sofia, we have to pull up the anchor and let go of any moorings in a storm like this. If we were anchored, the force of the waves may tear the ship apart. If we let go, we may be able to bob on the surface and use the rudder to direct the boat a bit. We must let go. Do you understand?” Sofia remembered nodding her head and hugging her mother but not really understanding. She had never really understood until this moment.
Now, Sofia made a decision while walking to the gangway to meet Helena. She would let go and trust the current and her rudder to carry her forward. As she lifted a hand to Helena her step lightened and a smile spread on her face. She was not the terrified girl on board her parents storm tossed sailboat. She felt that her smile reflected her father’s, nervous but excited. That similarity between her and her father gave Sofia pause. Sofia had not thought it possible to have anything in common with him.
Before she could examine the feeling further, Helena called, “Hop in the car, w
e haven’t much time.” Sofia pushed her revelation aside with some difficulty and eased into the comforting leather of the Jag. To Sofia’s surprise, the car turned away from the high end shops and toward a neighboring harbor and marina. Confused, but past the point of questioning anything Helena did, Sofia didn’t utter a word as the car stopped in front of a gorgeous 92’ Argos Gulfstream yacht. As she stepped out of the car, she read the carefully scripted name on the hull, The Alchemist. That’s odd, thought Sofia. Normally, watercrafts are given female names. Most sailors think its good luck.
Helena said, “And there’s your answer, this is not a normal watercraft.” She gave Sofia a wink and headed toward the gangway. Sofia smiled to hide her chagrin; she didn’t realize that she had spoken out loud.
“I thought not. What supplies will we get here?” Sofia thought the term ‘supplies’ would be safe because knowing what she did of Helena, there was no telling whether they would be picking up stiletto heels or stiletto daggers.
Helena caught the use of the generic term and said “We’ll be getting all of our supplies here.” Sofia cocked an eyebrow but Helena just smiled and continued onto the yacht, being waved through by the security detail. Inside, the Alchemist was much different than any other yacht Sofia had boarded. Mainly, because the main room barely resembled a living area. Whereas the Mariana was equipped for comfortable living and sailing, this yacht seemed to be comprised mainly of one large lounge area that had only two doors leading out. There were no visible hallways, no other exits to exterior passageways and no windows. It was a well-appointed room with rich wood and beautiful leather seating areas but looked more like the lobby of an office, than a sailor’s retreat. As they reached the center of the lounge, another black-clad security guard appeared through one of the wooden doors and approached Helena.
“Please go in Mrs. Canvar, Mr. Winston has everything prepared.”
