Cuban Sun

by Bryn Bauer

  FIFTEEN

  Sofia expected the Mariana to be dark at this time of night, or was it morning? However, lights dotted the hull indicating that Joe and Helena had indeed realized that Quint was gone. Sofia and Quint were assailed with questions the moment their feet hit the deck. After all that had happened, Sofia felt the questions swarming and stinging like hornets. Seeing this, Quint held up his hand, affecting a pause. “Sofia, why don’t you go change.” Then turning to Helena and Joe, “I’ll pour everyone a drink.”

  In her stateroom, Sofia sank onto the bed. A wry smile played in the corners of her mouth. She had done this a few times since her arrival. She now felt this stateroom was a cocoon, her place of refuge from the storm, brief though the respite may be. After a moment of blissful silence, she dressed, tossing her nearly shredded nightgown into the trash. It pained her heart to see her mother’s heirloom lying in a heap. It was now useless though it affected her less than it would have before tonight. She didn’t think that she was forgetting her mother, but rather, attaching less emotion to objects. After all, her mother’s memory and advice had already helped her so much during the last few weeks; she didn’t need physical reminders any longer. Her mother was here, in the room, always with her.

  With a deep breath she opened the stateroom door and stepped out into the storm. When she entered the living room, it seemed the effect of whiskey all around had calmed the storm to a minor gale. Quint handed her a tumbler and she sipped, letting the smooth amber liquid ease her throat before speaking. Sofia related the events of the evening, opting for an overview rather than the blow by blow she had given Quint while lying together on the hay tufted floor. After she finished, Quint laid a hand on hers briefly. She looked up and saw Helena’s face, alight with realization and understanding. Sofia unobtrusively removed her hand from Quint’s. Joe on the other hand looked resolute. He set his jaw and put his drink on the wood table with a clack.

  “Well, that’s that then. We’re done. I don’t want anyone else hurt.” They all looked at Joe, disbelieving. Sofia spoke.

  “We’re not necessarily done. We don’t know who ordered the attack. Yes, it could have been Castro, but it could have also been some other entity. My father does have a great deal of influence and power in the business world. That kind of stature makes enemies. If one of them heard that I was here representing the company, well, that’s like killing two birds with one stone isn’t it? They could harm my father’s business by ruining this deal and harm him personally by hurting me.”

  Quint nodded. “She has a point. It could be a number of operatives, not just Castro. I think it’s unlikely that Castro ordered the attack. We didn’t have any pursuit which could mean that they don’t even know Sofia is gone. There’s a good chance that she could sneak back in and no one would be the wiser about what happened.”

  Helena forestalled Joe’s protest by interjecting, “I agree. I don’t think there’s much evidence that Castro is behind this. Just by his actions and body language, I think he’s quite taken with Sofia. He’s not the type to think he needs to force a woman. He’ll be arrogant enough to think he can have her willingly.”

  Joe shook his head. “I hear what you’re saying, but even if it’s not Raul, someone is trying to get to Sofia. It adds a level of danger and complexity that we can’t afford in an operation like this. We already have an inexperienced operative acting as primary, several blind spots in the estate and now someone is after one of the team. No, we can’t risk the operation. Getting discovered would endanger not only Sofia, but all of us.” Quint fidgeted with the napkin. Sofia could see he was agitated and wanted to speak. She discreetly put a hand on his knee, preventing any rash protests. The last thing Sofia wanted was another argument. She wanted the opportunity to go back, to finish. She wanted to prove to herself and to them that she could do this. Getting Joe spun up was not the way to get back in. She would need his support.

  “Joe, I know you’re very concerned”, Sofia started. “And, the last thing I want is to put anyone in harm’s way. I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me.”

  Joe wiped the table with his shirt sleeve, “Yes, I am. I’m protecting all of you. We’ll wrap up and leave this morning.”

  Sofia nodded, thinking quickly. How could she get him to agree? What would sway him? Then, she had an inspiration and said, “I can certainly see the appeal of getting the hell out of town. But, didn’t you say that operatives have been trying to assassinate the Castro’s for well on fifty years?”

  “Longer, what’s your point?”

  She glanced at Helena who smiled briefly and nodded for her to continue, she was on the right track. “Well, what if we were the ones to finally do it? You have put so much of your time and expertise into this Joe. What if finally, after all these years, the credit were to go to you? You said you were thinking of retiring, doing something else. Wouldn’t this be a great end to a great career?”

  Helena jumped in. “Think of it my love, the last assignment, and what an assignment! We can just up the security and get it done. We can do it in the next twelve hours. Right?” She looked to Sofia for confirmation. Sofia was confident, but not one hundred percent sure if she could complete her task in that time frame, but she would have to. There was no choice. So, she nodded once.

  Helena continued, “See Joe, we have a plan, we have the opportunity.”

  Joe furrowed his brows and picked up his glass and began swirling the dark gold whiskey. “That’s such a risk. You know better than most that plans rarely work the way you want them to. But still, to have this done…”

  Quint seized the opportunity to press the case. “Joe, tomorrow morning I can go onsite and stay with Sofia almost constantly. We’ll say that since the negotiations are coming to a close, I’m there to pull all the documents together and wrap up the legal odds and ends. I’m sure they’d jump at the chance to have the process expedited.”

  Joe thought for a long moment, his eyes looking into the swirling liquid, darting back and forth as if trying to divine an answer from its depths. He drained the whiskey and set it down again, the tink of the empty glass seemed to echo in the silence. “Alright Sofia, you have twelve hours.” Joe squinted at the greying sky, “If we can get her back to her room in the next forty five minutes or so, I think we’ll be ok. The estate doesn’t start the day until seven. That gives you two hours to get back, clean up the room and get ready.”

  Quint nodded. “Got it.”

  Helena stood and clasped Sofia’s hands. “For God’s sake be careful. We’ll be monitoring until we have our meetings, then we’ll be right inside the estate.” Sofia hugged Helena and quickly followed Quint to the old motor bike. As the city rushed by, she felt triumphant. Her handling of Joe worked without yelling or bloodshed. She could pull off one of the most important missions of the last fifty years. If I don’t screw it up, she thought.

  When the soft knock at her door came at seven o’clock, Sofia was ready. Quint had escorted her to the room to ensure that the assailant was gone. It was so strange; the man was gone and had not touched any of her business or personal items. The contract papers were right where she had left them on the desk. Even the jeweled stiletto was still on the floor where it had fallen. The hair rose on the back of her neck. This meant the attack was intended for her personally, not as a proxy attack on her father. She didn’t mention this to Quint who seemed to either not have reached that conclusion, or not to have said anything. Given his protective nature, she thought he must not have picked up on it yet. Otherwise he would have hauled her out of the room. Still, she wanted to continue. She felt relatively safe; she handled herself well last night. Plus, Quint would be there and Joe and Helena would be joining her in the building shortly. She would get it done and get out.

  The meetings went as planned, much to Sofia’s dismay. Several times, she attempted to orchestrate changes that would bring her closer to Castro but she had only seen him from the far end of the enormous meeting table. She ha
d neither the opportunity nor rationale to speak to him, try as she might. She expressed her concerns to Helena when they spoke alone at lunch. Helena had turned to her with a somewhat exasperated look.

  “Sofia, you’re a woman, he’s a man. Get it done.” She was right. Sofia had hoped to come up with something a little more above board. She intensely disliked placing herself on the shelf as a shiny object, but there was no help for it. She would have to. Time was running out.

  Finally, in the late afternoon, Sofia retreated to the terrace where the air was still hot but at least moving. Quint was on the other end of the terrace with a few of the ministers. She sent tender thoughts his way. He hadn’t let her out of his sight since they returned that morning. Though she was supposed to be working on finishing the details of a contract, her mind wandered to what she would have to do later that night. Would she be able to kill this man? She thought so; the man had done terrible things after all. Kidnapping, slavery, but could she actually watch a man die and know she caused his death? The thought made her shiver causing her tired muscles to ache. She put the thought away from her. She had to be focused. She couldn’t have doubts. She stifled a yawn and continued working on one of the contracts when the rattan chair beside her creaked. She turned to see Raul Castro lounging as though he were on vacation.

  “Mister President, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Surprise? I’ve heard that you have been trying to see me all day.”

  Damn it, thought Sofia. She had tried to be discreet. But, she thought she could work with that mistake. Her most charming smile in place, she turned to him and spoke.

  “Indeed I have. I had several questions for you regarding the contract, but I think the others can handle it.” She leaned forward and put her hand near, but not touching his, on the arm of the chair. “I see that you are recovered from our ride the other day. I have to say that I was more than a little afraid that I would be thrown out of the estate!” She added a throaty laugh for effect.

  Castro’s eyes lit “Nothing to worry about Miss Koury. Just a bit of air was all I needed.”

  Ha! Sofia thought, a bit of air. He probably needed the entire contents of his oxygen tank.”

  “I see. Well, I was hoping to talk to you more on the subject of cars. My family has several collectors you know.”

  “Yes, I know. Perhaps over dinner? Let’s make it early.”

  Without waiting for her reply, he stood and strode across the terrace to the huddle of men who were deep in conversation.

  As she stood, a muscle in her back spasmed causing her to wrench sideways and drop every single piece of paper onto the terrace. She cursed under her breath. Muscle spasms had always been a side effect of exhaustion for her. Even with over the counter medication, they still crept up on her. Sofia bent to pick up the papers when a little boy who looked to be no more than five and a young woman who seemed to be his mother crouched to pick them up. Sofia attempted to waive them away saying it was no trouble. The little boy stood and started to move away when a frightened look passed over the mother’s face and she pulled the boy back to the floor. She darted worried glances over to the group of men. One man in particular narrowed his eyes at her before continuing his discussion. They must be servants, thought Sofia. The woman handed Sofia the now neatly stacked papers.

  “How old is your son? He’s beautiful.” Sofia asked after she thanked the woman.

  She blanched, a feat given her coffee toned complexion. She clutched the little boy to her skirts, somewhat shielding him with her body. In rapid undertones she said, “No, no miss. He is not. He is a baby. He is disobedient and ugly. You would not want him.” Without waiting for a reply the woman snatched the little boy up into her arms and hurried inside. Sofia was left to stand with her mouth slightly open, a smoldering rage building in her chest. They’re slaves, she thought. There was no mistaking that kind of fear. It was the same fear she had seen in Mr. Jimenez’s eyes in Miami.

  A sick revulsion filled in the places where rage had not yet penetrated. There was only one reason she could think of that a mother would say that her child was ugly. Only one reason that she would have said, “You wouldn’t want him”. She sat again to avoid being sick. A new resolve overcame Sofia’s exhaustion. Sofia glanced over to the group of men, now retreating inside. Raul Castro passed, giving a sidelong glance to Sofia before disappearing. Could I kill him? she thought. Oh, yes. I could.

  That evening, before going down to dinner, Sofia visited Quint in the room adjoining hers. Not a bedroom but a small study. She left him ostensibly working to finish and deliver all the paperwork to Castro’s ministers tomorrow morning. He had squeezed her hand, told her she looked beautiful in the long navy skirt and top studded with seed pearls. She leaned close, kissed his ear and whispered, “The skirt hides the second pepper grenade.” He pulled back laughing as she closed the door to go downstairs.

  Upon arriving in the dining room, Sofia saw the table laid for two. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to figure out a way to give the slip to any other guests. Hearing the squeak of polished shoes on the terrazzo floor, Sofia turned to see Raul Castro carrying two flutes of champagne.

  “Good evening Miss Koury. May I call you Sofia?”

  “Please do. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

  He handed her a glass. “It’s rare that I have such beauty at the table. Except for what my chef prepares of course.”

  Sofia’s repulsion of the man grew. Just as I thought, women and food are the same to him. He let his moist hand linger on hers before allowing Sofia to take the glass.

  Sofia had to repress an urge to wipe her hand on her skirt and instead said, “How kind of you. Shall we toast to our partnership?”

  “Let’s toast to, getting to know each other better.” Sofia heard the slight emphasis on the word “know”. The hook is baited, she thought. She raised her flute and moved a step closer towards Castro, smelling stale tobacco and alcohol. She let the champagne touch her lips, but kept them clamped shut. After last night, she would not take any chances. She would not eat or drink anything from this man.

  She forced herself to smile. His eyes widened a degree or two and he turned slightly gesturing to the dining table. “Are you hungry Sofia? It’s been a long day. I’ll see that you are well fed tonight.” Reading between the lines, Sofia responded.

  “Yes, I am hungry, but food isn’t what feeds me. I suspect it’s the same with you. Its power, isn’t it? To hold dominance on your spoon and feel its warmth in your belly.” She was close enough to see her face in his eyes alight with an affected passion. “That’s what fuels us, sustains us.” Sofia felt an arm slip around her waist. She resisted the impulse to draw back.

  “Indeed Sofia, it is what nourishes me and I have grown strong and healthy with it.” After a pause in which he looked her up and down, he continued, “I may be able to share from my plate.” He now held her close, his body nearly touching hers. “To see you get nourishment from my hand,” he drew a finger along her jaw and down the side of her throat, “to see it slip down your throat into your body. That would please me.”

  “Might I suggest a drive in the moonlight? That would likely nourish us more than the food. Wouldn’t you agree?” He eyed her, the gleam of mischief returned to his eye, as bright as it had been the last time she suggested a drive. Again, he looked around for handlers. She cocked an eyebrow, an implicit dare. He smiled and took her hand.

  “I agree. You are turning out to be a very intriguing young woman, Sofia.” He put his hand on the small of her back guiding her to the climate controlled warehouse. Sofia paused momentarily in the doorway; the darkness that hit her was heavy and impenetrable. She felt as if she were stepping into a great void not knowing what would meet her in the dark. With a breath, she stepped forward then had to squeeze her eyes shut from the glare of the fluorescent overhead lights that flickered on. Motion sensors, thought Sofia. Spots danced in front of her eyes but she continued forward drawn to the 500K a
s though by radar. She stopped and touched the driver’s side of the car. Caressing the leather inside the door, she marveled. It really was a beautiful machine. Then, and idea struck her. She tilted her head to the side, giving Castro a sidelong look and put her hand on the door catch.

  “May I?”

  He hesitated. He would have to give up some control here. It was his car, he would drive. She could see the tension and reluctance in the corners of his mouth. Sofia needed to push him. She took her hand off the car, took a step back and turned slightly toward the door through which they had entered. Fine, if he didn’t want to give up control, neither did she. His eyes widened briefly then he put a hand on her back and opened the door.

  “Why of course, my beauty, of course.”

  He closed the door, hesitating again. She rested her foot on the clutch, the angle exposing her right leg though the high slit in her skirt. Through his ingratiating smile Sofia could see this was costing him some pride.

  Sofia started the car and triggered the warehouse door to open. She saw the security camera on the way out. She would need to be quick. There was someone at the monitors all the time. Sofia double checked to make sure her stiletto and gas cartridge were in place, just in case things didn’t go to plan. And after the last few days, that was a virtual certainty. She pushed the pin into her chignon more securely and pressed a red polished toe on the gas, spraying dirt and pebbles as the car entered the track and picked up speed. For a moment, Sofia allowed herself to admire the ease of handling and smoothness of the ride. Her father and grandfather were collectors; she knew quality when she saw it. It was all the more enjoyable because of the age of the vehicle. For an instant, regret overtook her. Regret that such a wonderful, one-of-a-kind piece of craftsmanship should be wasted on one such as the man before her. A car that was meant for greatness, for a great man, a car that took engineering into a new time, could end up in the hands of this pathetic piece of humanity. This was a man who, rather than moving his country and people forward as the makers of this car had, he had send them back in time. Back into slavery.