Die Run Hide

by P. M. Kavanaugh

“Authorities can be like that.”

  “Tell me about yourself. Brad mentioned you’re a teacher?”

  She skimmed over her cover then launched into descriptions of the places she had visited in Havana. She kept up her monologue until Roberto pulled into one of the spaces in the hotel’s open-air parking lot.

  “You have an impressive memory.” He turned off the engine. “Especially for detail. I almost felt like I was in Havana with you.”

  “It’s my training … ”

  “Training?”

  “As an artist.”

  “Brad said you became interested in drawing when you were in high school.”

  A zing of irritation ran through her. Brad talks too much.

  Instantly, she regretted it. Brad had been a huge help — a buffer from the Havana police, a distraction with the New Aryan, a go-between with the Estradas. She saw again his glazed eyes, the tip of the gun pressed against his temple. Guilt settled on her like a weighted pack.

  “Yes, that’s right. I had a wonderful teacher in the tenth grade.” She opened the car door and got out. A tang of salt flavored the cool air. She took a deep breath and tried to let go of the stress and tension from the day.

  “We have to walk to the cottage from here,” Roberto said. “Fifteen minutes down the beach. I’ll show you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She slung the knapsack over her shoulder. “Just point me in the direction and I’ll let you get back home.”

  “It’s no trouble. And Magdalena would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t see you safely there.”

  Palm trees stood like silent sentinels along the beach’s perimeter. After the incessant buzz of Havana, the gentle lapping of the waves murmured a lullaby. A pale square outline, topped by a thatched roof, gleamed in the moonlight.

  Anika walked up the steps to the cottage porch. A rocking chair angled into one corner and a hammock curved in the other. She fingered the fringe on the hammock.

  She had seen pictures of these body-length slings in vacation vids and zines. The people in them always looked so happy. She tugged on the fringe and the heavy cotton swayed from side to side. Maybe she would try it out for herself tomorrow. See if the vacation guides were right.

  Roberto fitted a key into the door, toed off his sandals, and gestured her inside. She stepped out of her sandals, too, and picked them up by their leather straps.

  “It’s okay to leave them outside. No one will take them.”

  “I’d rather have them inside.”

  She wasn’t ready to relax her guard that much. Keep your shoes close and your weapon closer. The training had been drilled into her.

  “As you wish.”

  Her bare feet whispered across the smooth wood floor.

  “Lights on,” she said, too tired to think straight. Nothing. She started to repeat the command when a click came from behind and the room flooded with light. Another click set the ceiling fan in motion.

  “The lights and fan are manual,” Roberto explained.

  “Oh, that’s right. Brad told me.”

  Her eyes swept the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows ran from the right of the front door, around the corner, to the end of the side wall. Against the back wall, a double bed stood on a raised platform. She resisted the pull of the bed and turned her attention to the door around the corner from the platform.

  “Where does that lead?”

  “Bathroom.”

  She walked over to the door. Pushed it open. Another door stood directly opposite.

  “The switch for the light is on your right.”

  She ignored the switch and crossed the room. Pulled on the door. It didn’t budge. She pulled harder and it yielded with a creak loud enough to hear in the other room. She liked that. Less chance of a surprise visit.

  “I need to fix that,” Roberto called out. “There’s an outdoor shower on the left. For rinsing sand off.”

  Fifty meters straight back, waist high grasses created a natural border. The beach was clear and open as far as she could see. Good sightlines in both directions. Protection in the grass. She could even booby trap that area for added security.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Enough analyzing and planning for tonight. Vigilance fizzled away, replaced by a swell of fatigue.

  “The cottage is lovely.” She walked back into the room. “Just as Brad said.”

  Roberto jerked upright from a bent over position near a potted plant in the corner of the living room. “I’m … I’m pleased that you like it.” He ran his hand through his hair. Twice. “Ummm.” His eyes met hers then darted away. “Shall I show you how to work the shower, the stove … ?” He trailed off when she rested her chin in her palm and blinked. “Or, I could come by in the morning?”

  She nodded and smothered a yawn.

  “Buenos sueños.” He closed the door softly behind him.

  Sweet dreams. Anika stared for a moment at the door, then switched her gaze to the plant. Walked over to it. Pushed aside the leaves. She spotted the listening device, a tiny black disk in the dirt. Even though she had expected it, its presence bothered her like sand rubbed into an open cut.

  She walked over to the wall switch, clicked off the light, and opened one of the shutters. No sign of Roberto. No sign of anyone. Just the moon looking down from the dark sky with a cool dispassionate gaze. A prickle ran across her shoulders and she rubbed at the goose bumps that sprang up on her arms.

  Can I have a life of sweet dreams? Can I have that kind of life anywhere?

  Chapter 24

  Anika waded into the cool wetness of the ocean.

  Early morning sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface like glitter thrown by a playful wind god. She raised her arms into an overhead “V” and dove. The liquid flowed over her bare skin like heavy satin.

  The last time she had been in the ocean couldn’t have been more different. The night mission had occurred under a coal-black sky. From the deck of the sea transport, she looked down into water as dark and frightening as a botched kill. Jumped into that water and started swimming. Halfway to her destination, her temperature-controlled skinsuit malfunctioned. The frigid liquid encased her in its icy grip, stealing her breath and stunning her mind.

  But the mission had to go forward. Missions always did.

  Once she had planted the tracker on the target ship’s hull, she started back. Her arms and legs moved on autopilot. She was barely conscious when her team pulled her out. Back in Clinic’s hypothermia chamber, she had vowed she would never go into the ocean again. Not if she had a choice.

  But this water was so different, like swimming in a giant’s bathtub.

  She rolled over and executed a few backstrokes. Extending both arms behind her head, she arched up and pulled herself through a long backward roll. Salt flavored her lips when she surfaced.

  While Cuba hadn’t been the sanctuary she had sought when she first set foot on the wood planks of Marina Hemingway Harbor, she was grateful that it had given her someplace to run to, someplace to land.

  A place where she could meet with Gianni face-to-face and settle things with him once and for all. Even her anxiety over their impending rendezvous couldn’t completely smother the stirrings of freedom, the butterfly-wings sensation deep inside. It fueled her hope that she could still have the kind of life she wanted.

  She treaded water a few more seconds, gingerly working her sore leg, then headed back to shore.

  When Roberto arrived, she was sitting in the rocking chair, a plate of bread in her lap and a glass of lemonade on the porch railing. She called out a greeting in response to his wave.

  “I see you found the food Magdalena left.” He walked up the steps to the porch. “It’s not fancy, but she hoped you would enjoy it.”

  “It’s delicious.” Anika swallowed another morsel of bread. “And the lemonade … I’ve never tasted anything so good. Where do you get it?”

  “It’s Magda’s own recipe. You can ask her abo
ut it when you meet her. We were hoping you’d join us for dinner tonight.”

  Roberto’s eyes were warm and open, not guarded like last night.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Have you tried working any of the appliances? They must look like antiques compared to what you’re used to in the States.”

  “You mean Canada.”

  “Yes, right. Canada.”

  The thought flashed through her mind that he was testing her, but she let it go. Good people, she remembered Brad telling her.

  “We’re waiting for the next lift in sanctions from the States to begin upgrading.”

  “¿El Dulzor?” she asked, using the expression Señor Alejo had mentioned. She wondered if he had been released by the authorities yet.

  “Sí. The next Sweetness. But until then … ” Roberto shrugged. “Come, I will show you.”

  Strands of a bead-and-seashell curtain clicked together as they entered the kitchen from the living room.

  Roberto twisted and turned and flipped the dials and knobs and switches. He rattled off instructions on how to operate the different appliances and navigate their many quirks, the result of his numerous repairs using mismatched parts. It was clear from his efforts that he could show agency operatives a thing or two about improvising in the field.

  Anika paid close attention to the stovetop coffeemaker, a five-sided metal cylinder twenty-five millimeters tall. She might not be here long enough to master the other appliances, but she definitely wanted her morning dose of coffee. Even now, a dull throbbing that she attributed to a lack of caffeine lodged at the back of her head.

  Roberto poured espresso into a mug full of heated milk. He added sugar to taste and handed it to Anika.

  She inhaled the enticing aroma and took a sip. Heaven.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Roberto’s eyes warmed at her obvious enjoyment.

  “Aren’t you having any?”

  “I must get back to the hotel.”

  “What kind of engineering work do you do there?”

  “I don’t. I fix whatever breaks. And I drive the guests to and from Holguin.”

  “You prefer that kind of work to being an engineer?”

  “It’s better pay than most engineers in Cuba make. So I don’t complain.” But his eyes had lost their warmth and his lips tightened. “Can you meet Magda and me in the parking lot later this afternoon? Five o’clock? We’ll drive to our house.”

  “You don’t live in town?”

  “No. A short distance away.”

  She followed him back outside and leaned against the railing until he became a speck of white clothing topped by a brown head.

  Anika drummed her fingers on the porch railing. What was she going to do the rest of the morning?

  She could go into town. Stop in at a computer center and see whether Gianni had left a follow up message for her. It was too early for one, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. She could also buy supplies. There was enough food in the kitchen for lunch, but that was it. And she needed clothes.

  She looked down at her T-shirt and pants, the same clothes she had been wearing when Roberto picked her up at the train station. Other than the skirt and top that still bore some marks from her fight in Havana, she didn’t have anything else to wear. She needed to fix that. And shopping would enhance her cover.

  It’s what civilians did with their free time, wasn’t it? Shopped. Bought stuff.

  In her years as an operative, between missions, briefings, tutorials, training and sleeping, there hadn’t been many hours left to develop her own interests. Even down time had been a routine of mindless vids, sessions in relaxation tanks and binges at Amnesia.

  The only non-regimented part of her life had been Gianni. A last-minute invitation to dinner, an occasional walk or drive through a nature park, 3-D virtual opera performances in his flat.

  Her fingers tightened around the empty coffee cup. Those were all part of her past. The sooner she accepted that, the better. She needed to pursue new interests for her new life.

  She set the cup down and massaged her temples. The caffeine hadn’t helped her headache. And her leg, which had barely bothered her during the morning swim, was starting to tingle again. A walk into town seemed like too much effort right now. She would go later, before meeting up with Roberto and Magdalena.

  She turned around and leaned back against the railing. The knapsack lay on the porch floor. A corner of one of the sketchpads she had bought in Havana peeked out from the opening. She supposed she could shore up her cover as a high school art teacher.

  A few hours later, Anika flipped through drawings of the hammock, the porch floorboards, her thick-soled sandal. In her head, Madame Morrisette’s French-flecked voice offered praise and encouragement. Her vanilla-and-rose scent perfumed the air and her silver bracelets clinked against each other as she demonstrated how to add a stroke here, alter a line there.

  A tiny glow that had nothing to do with the sun overhead spread through Anika.

  Her rumbling stomach reminded her of the food on the top shelf of the refrigerator. She sat crossways in the hammock while eating tamale pie and spicy cornbread. They tasted even better than the bread from that morning. She took another sip of the lemonade and tried to guess the secret ingredient that gave it such a distinctive flavor. Mint? Honey?

  Stretching out in the hammock, she dangled one foot over the side. It pushed against the porch floor and rocked her back and forth. Her limbs grew heavy in the humid warmth.

  Magdalena and Roberto had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome. She was looking forward to dinner tonight.

  Chapter 25

  “Sorry I’m late.” Anika called out to Roberto, who stood by the car in the parking lot. She tried to speed up, but the fiery twinges in her leg stopped her. Her head hurt, too, worse than this morning. “That hammock is too inviting. I’m afraid I overslept.”

  “Is your leg bothering you?”

  She paused mid-stride, then focused on evening out her steps. “It’s a little stiff from a recent fall.” Is that what she had told Brad? “I’ve run out of pain blockers. Could we stop at a pharma-mart on the way?”

  “Magda can give you something. Better than pain blockers. She’s quite good with herbal treatments.”

  “Brad mentioned that. She treated his hand?”

  “Foot,” Roberto corrected her. “He cut it on some coral.”

  Check. Her mind turned on her. Stop it. Brad vouched for him. And Magdalena.

  She eased into the passenger seat, lifting her leg in with both hands. The pain snaked in both directions from the wound, up to her hip and down to her ankle. The car’s interior had absorbed the heat of the day and sweat sealed her against the back of the leather seat.

  “Is Magdalena meeting us?”

  “She got off early today. She’s already home and cooking up a feast.”

  Anika took a steadying breath. Right now, the thought of food made her stomach rebel.

  Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to a single-story house in the middle of a block of similar looking structures. Bright blue window frames adorned a white stucco exterior and a vase of yellow flowers brightened a ground floor window. In the middle of the smoothly cut lawn lay a child’s bicycle with pink streamers on the handlebars.

  Not just a house. A home.

  A little girl came flying out the front door.

  “Papi, Papi.” The girl raced down the walkway, dark pigtails streaming behind her.

  Roberto jumped out of the car and ran to greet her. He bent down, swooped her up, and swung her around in a circle. Their laughter danced in the air.

  Anika stepped out of the car.

  The girl’s espresso-brown eyes widened with curiosity.

  “This is my daughter,” Roberto said. “Daisy, this is Jane, the young woman I told you about. Can you say ‘hello’?”

  Daisy buried her face against her father’s neck.

  “Mi corazon.” Roberto’s tone gent
led. “That’s no way to greet a guest.”

  Daisy gave a muffled response.

  Roberto looked at Anika, his shoulders lifting a fraction. “I’m sorry. She never used to be this shy. Magda says it’s a passing phase.”

  A striking dark-haired woman appeared at the front door. “Roberto,” she called, stepping onto the walkway and sauntering toward them, “why are you keeping our guest waiting on the sidewalk?”

  Like so many Cubanas, Magdalena wore brightly colored clothes that hugged her body. A sleeveless fuchsia top tucked into a lime green skirt showed off her small waist and rounded hips.

  Anika now wished she had gone into town earlier that morning and bought new clothes. Her T-shirt and pants were more appropriate for a beach picnic than for dinner in her hosts’ home.

  “Welcome, Jane.” Magdalena extended both hands in greeting. “It’s so nice to meet you. I see why you made such an impression on Brad.” Her espresso eyes sparkled at Anika.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Magdalena.” Anika forgot her self-consciousness in the warmth emanating from her host.

  “Call me Maggie. We’re so delighted you could join us for dinner. You’re settling in at the cottage all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you for the food. It was delicious.”

  “De nada. It was my pleasure.”

  She squeezed Anika’s hand, released it, and turned toward Roberto and Daisy. Her arms opened wide to embrace them. They nuzzled together, a sweet picture of affection.

  A short pang stung Anika. A real family. Something Gianni wanted more than anything. Something she would never have, would never be part of. Because of her background, her profile. She bit down on her lip and ducked her head back inside the car to retrieve the knapsack.

  Maggie appeared at her side, linked arms with her and walked them both toward the house. Abreast of the bicycle lying on the lawn, she paused and turned back.

  Roberto and Daisy chased each other on the sidewalk in a game of tag. The little girl shrieked with delight as her father pretended to snatch her.

  “Daisy, please put your bicycle away before you come inside.”

  “Sí, Mama.”