“Here,” Adriana said as she opened a door.
The room was covered in blood. Pools of it littered the floor. The walls were smeared with blood and tissue. Christine stared at the sight. “What happened here?”
“A training exercise, as far as CI knows. Someone got injured, then died. This,” she gestured at the room, “is what happened after.”
“How do you know?” Christine asked as she stepped over the pools. Her eyes were on scorch marks.
“My contact sent me an email. Apparently, they had to evacuate the base. That’s why I didn’t go… Zombies are fucking real, Chris!”
Christine’s eyes scanned the scorch marks. Her mind putting it all together. “They had to burn everyone!”
Adriana stayed at the doorway. Her expression was one of horror and disgust. “My contact told me that from the one hundred and fifty people stationed here, only twenty-five made it out alive. The sale is just a cover-up.”
Christine turned back to the Cuban agent. “Only if you believe that. La Perpetua might be the ones responsible for this.”
“Why? What would they have to do with destroying Cuba?”
Christine laughed. “Once a capitalist. Always a capitalist.”
Adriana laughed with her. “That’s the motto of the gringos. Right?”
“If it isn’t, then it should be.” Both chuckled as they stepped out of the room. Christine turned to her. “Wait. If you knew about this, then why not alert your superiors? Or the Americans?”
Adriana sighed. “What makes you think I didn’t? You may call me a bitch looking out for herself, but I do care and love my country.” Something had cracked inside the Cuban and what she was saying, at least to Christine, was at last the truth.
“That may all be true, but if you had, then there would be no festival. No presidential visit. And, most importantly, no me being here.”
A loud clang broke the tension. Both women spun towards the sound. It echoed throughout the empty rooms and corridors. “You think we’re alone?”
“Jodido si lo sé,” Adriana answered as she slowly moved into the corridor. “Pero no estoy esperando para averiguarlo.”
Christine had to agree. What originally had started out as an almost normal mission had slowly become a total clusterfuck. The last thing she needed was for this to turn into a bad zombie movie. Another loud bang echoed and Christine thought, Shit maybe it already had. “Let’s get outta here.”
Together, they started back towards the entrance. At each corner and doorway, they would peer around, checking for the slightest hint of another soul, or something worse.
The banging was getting louder and sounding faster and faster. At each noise, Christine and Adriana quickened their pace.
They could hear the thunderstorm above them and both were thankful nothing had attacked them.
“We’re so close,” Adriana exulted as they neared the main door.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But there is still this fucked-up situation to sort out.”
The Cuban nodded her agreement. “But how do we stop…whatever is happening?”
As Christine opened the door, she turned to look at Adriana. “Not my job. I’m here for…” She frowned at the expression Adriana had. “Adriana?”
Her counterpart had her eyes wide, and she started to shake her head wildly.
Christine had no idea what was going on.
Adriana lifted a hand then pointed.
Christine turned towards the cement wall and her mouth dropped open.
“Hola, chicas,” Juan de Dios said casually. Then he fired the Taser.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Waves.
The melodic sounds of the water lapping, gently rising and falling, slapping against hard surfaces is what woke Christine. Her eyes fluttered open then quickly clamped closed. The sun’s light was blinding and she had to blink a few times before it was comfortable to keep them open.
Her chest ached like a son-of-a-bitch. It felt like a power point had raped her.
Christine reached up. Her arm stopped. She strained then gave up. It was strapped to her side. Checking the other arm gave the same result. “Fuck.”
Slowly, Christine rocked back then forward. Her body screamed for her to stop. But she couldn’t. Her legs pressed down on the slatted wooden floor and she found herself in an upright seated position.
The boat was lovely. Expensively exquisite; not exactly a super yacht but close enough. The wood surfaces were the best money could buy. Every surface had been polished until it was clear and showed an almost perfect reflection. This was the vessel of a person with more money than sense.
“About time you woke up,” Adriana said. She too was bound but not with straps. Her hands were tied with cable ties. There was a bruise on her face that covered her left eye. Her lip had a cut and there was a slight trail of blood running down her ear.
“What the fuck happened?” Christine asked, her eyes scanning for signs of anyone.
Adriana tilted her head upwards in a short gesture. Christine followed the gaze then wished she hadn’t.
The sun was right behind the figure. There was something familiar about him. In one hand, there was the distinct shape of an old Colt handgun and the other was resting atop the walking stick.
“Juan,” Christine cursed.
The old man nodded then started to walk down the stairs leading from the canopy controls to the deck. He moved slowly. Each step he took had to be steady so that he wouldn’t fall down the stairs or trip over his walking stick.
Both Christine and Adriana glared at the traitor. Juan smiled pleasantly as he leaned against the railing. He kept the pistol aimed at the women. “Buenas dias.”
Adriana spat venom. “¡Tienes dos cara mentirosas mierda! ¿Te llamas hombre? ¡Un perro rabioso es más digno de confianza que usted! ¡Has traicionado todo lo que creías! ¡Traidor!”
“Por favor,” Juan said lazily as he walked over to the Cuban and with no thought pistol-whipped her.
Adriana toppled over from the force. Her cheek cut opened, blood splattered the wood paneling. She grunted then tried to get herself right side up. Christine got to her knees. “Coward!”
Juan turned to her with a chuckle. “Coward? Is it cowardly to realize that your country will never give you the respect you deserve or the treatment? Is it cowardly to want a better life? Is it cowardly to become a capitalist?”
“Not at all,” Christine replied casually, “but it is to beat a woman.”
Juan’s smile faded. “I am sorry for that. My Mama raised me better than this. She would say ‘Juanito…’ that’s what she would call me… ‘Juanito, in this life you can be happy or smart.’ For many many years, I was happy. Now I am smart.” He looked down at Christine’s chest. “Does it hurt?”
Adriana struggled to get back upright. “Yeah, come over here and let me show you how much, puto!”
Juan turned to her then raised his weapon. “I didn’t have to bring you with us,” he said. “My orders were to bring the pariah.” He placed the gun and the walking stick on the deck then pulled Adriana to a sitting position. “Now behave.”
She smashed her head into his, her forehead connecting with his nose. There was a sickening crack followed by a crunch. Blood spurted up and out. In a beautiful arch, it landed on the railing and into the crystal clear blue water.
Juan fell backwards with a cry of pain, one hand holding his broken nose, the other frantically grasping for the pistol. “Pendeja!”
The pistol flashed up and came to a stop inches away from Adriana’s face. She smiled and Christine giggled.
Juan’s face was flushed with anger and he growled. “Listen to me, jintera! One more stunt like that and the fishes will feast.” He cocked the weapon. “¿Entiendo?”
Adriana yawned. “You won’t kill me, niñito.”
Juan laughed and looked between the two women. “Pray tell why?”
Christine caught the look in Adriana’s eye. “Because,” she q
uickly said, “then you wouldn’t be able to lord it over us.”
“Si!” Adriana joined in. “Kill me and your audience becomes one. That’s boring, right? You love having an audience. A performer like you!” She turned to Christine. “Did you know what he did before joining CI?”
Christine shook her head. Adriana pulled a shocked face. “You don’t? He never told… Juan! Why didn’t you ever tell Chris?”
Juan de Dios looked embarrassed. “It never came up in conversation.”
“I have all the time in the world now,” Christine said, trying to look nonchalant.
“Our Juanito here,” Adriana said, using the name Juan’s mother called him, “used to be one of Cuba’s greatest actors!”
“En serio!”
Juan nodded. “Acting, singing, and a little bit of dancing. I was going to be the greatest. The stage was my family and soon there was going to be movies! But…then, CI came and recruited me, wanted me to infiltrate Castro’s little band of killers. Then, after the Revolution, they kept me on.”
“Why not continue? Surely the people remember you?” Christine asked, partly out of interest and partly to continue distracting him.
The old man sighed. “The only people who remember the good old days of Juan de Dios are long gone. The only people who remember me are puto cinefiles and hipsters.”
Adriana and Christine sighed. “Poor, poor thing,” Christine cried. “You must miss it. Performing.”
“Si, but in a way, this is the greatest performance of my life. You, Christine, were the audience and you ate up my performance completely. There is no other feeling greater than this. It is better than sex!” Juan was practically taking a bow.
“And that is why you can’t kill me.” Adriana brought the distraction full circle. “Imagine, before you reveal the master plan, a monologue of such exquisite words, you kill me. Then your oration would be before one, which is fine if you prefer that. But two? Imagine both of our reactions.”
Juan laughed. “Your training in the whorehouse really was superb.” He looked her up and down. “I’m glad I tried you out before recruiting you… What?” The old man looked from Adriana to Christine and a cruel smile spread across his face. “You didn’t know?”
He started to laugh, and if Christine had the ability to break her bonds, then she would have done so gladly, then after breaking Juan’s arms, she would remove his genitals and making sure he was bleeding sufficiently enough, Christine would throw him overboard. Instead, she said, “It doesn’t matter. You’re just trying to get under both our skins.” She shook her head. “Pathetic.”
Juan thought while staring at the two ladies. His eyes kept lingering on Adriana who had gone silent. Since the revelation, her head hung low, tears streaming down her beaten face; there were small sobs coming from her and she was slumped, completely broken. The ex-spy master looked at Christine. “You had her. I know you have. Could you taste men?”
“That’s enough, Juan,” a velvety voice said from behind the old man. Juan straightened, his hand clenched the grip of the handgun, and he started sweating instantly. Slowly, he turned to face the owner of the voice.
#
Jeremiah Banks looked like a disappointed father. He wore linen pants with flip-flops and a light blue, long-sleeve shirt. His hair was graying at the temples and even though he wore a friendly smile on the perfectly manicured bearded face, which was also tinged with gray, his eyes were cold and hard; ice blue like steel. “Why don’t you get a drink?” he suggested to Juan. His voice was velvet and deep with a gruffness that betrayed his low-upbringing.
Juan de Dios nodded and as he walked past Banks, he muttered something. Christine couldn’t hear what he said, but the way Jeremiah Banks looked at her made her think that she was going to die here. Banks watched as Juan disappeared into the cabin.
“Please forgive me for the poor reception,” he said as he undid Adriana’s bonds. Slowly, he helped her up and to a seat. The Cuban was still silent but now the sobbing had stopped. Banks tilted her head up and proceeded to inspect her wounds. His face clouded over. “I told him not to hurt you.”
Christine watched the man who had caused all her misery and her mind screamed for her to tear out his jugular. She growled and strained against her restraints. Banks continued to tenderly check on Adriana and that made her angrier; not what he had done, but that now he was taking care of her. The man must be made to suffer.
“Don’t worry, Miss Moore. I’ll get to you soon.” He sighed as Adriana brushed his hands away then he turned to the captive. “At last we meet!” Banks sounded genuinely happy to meet her, like a fan. “I would shake your hand, but I don’t think that would be beneficial to me.” He chuckled then sat next to Adriana.
“What do you want with me?”
“Straight to the point. Good. Everyone said that’s how you are.” Banks gestured around them. “Look around you, Miss Moore. Tell me, what do you see?”
Christine strained to see around her. She hadn’t before and silently cursed herself for a rookie mistake. The boat was in Havana Bay and Christine could see La Cabaña on the left and the towers of the Nacional. In the distance, music could be heard, a band practicing. There were other boats in the bay but no one was on deck.
“Miss Moore?” Banks’ voice got her attention.
“Cuba,” she said. “I see the heart of Cuba. Her soul… And I see the cancer that has been slowly killing her.”
Banks was nodding. “The Americans. Yes! You don’t disappoint! The Americans ARE a cancer that has spread across the globe. Luckily, they haven’t infected Cuba like the rest of the Caribbean.” Banks scratched his bearded chin. “Were it possible to wipe them from the planet, I would. But, Cuba is just as good.”
Christine didn’t know what to make of Banks. Was he crazy or just acting like it? “I was talking about you.”
Banks stopped, blinked, then started to laugh. “They said you had a sense of humor… But seriously, Miss Moore, can I call you Christine?”
“No.”
“Well, Christine, you have not disappointed me. Just so you know that. From the files and reports about you, your reputation has been well earned. My partner was right about you.”
Partner? That was curious. Why would a criminal syndicate leader have a partner? Security maybe, someone in a position of legal power perhaps. She smiled as she said, “La Perpetua, how long have you been setting this up?”
“Would you believe me if I said, not that long at all.” Banks glanced at Juan who had returned. “Your gun please.”
“What if they try something?” Juan’s face was a little panicky and he held onto the gun like it was a security blanket.
“I think we can assume they aren’t going to… Juan, your gun.”
Slowly, the old man let the gun slip from his fingers and into the open palm of his boss. “Thank you,” Banks said. “Now why don’t you get on the radio and find out where Sanderson is? That’s a good fellow.”
Again, Juan went back into the cabin. Banks hefted the weapon thoughtfully. “What do you know about La Perpetua?”
“In English, it means ‘Perpetual.’ It’s a good name,” Christine admitted, “but why all this? Our intel said that you had gone, disappeared. Why come back?”
Banks got off the chair and bent before Christine. “I never left.”
“You are a pendejo,” Adriana said softly. Banks and Christine turned to see her. Adriana was sitting slightly more upright and her face was like stone.
“Excuse me?” Banks looked confused and Christine hoped her partner had a play.
“Tu eres un pendejo,” she said again. “What gives you the right to play Lord of Cuba?”
“The right?” he repeated. “What gives any man the right to lord over a country? A people? Democracy? No. Tradition? No. Birth? No. What gives a man the right to do anything is Strength of Will.”
“Puto,” Adriana spat. “That’s what a bully thinks.”
“And the bigg
est bully is across that water,” Banks said, pointing to the city. There was something about this that felt familiar to Christine. A distant memory was trying to get her attention.
“He’s seeing El Presidente today and tomorrow,” Juan reported sullenly. “Tomorrow night, he will be at PabExpo for the closing dinner. She can do it there.”
“Very good, Juan. Please go and wait in your cabin. When I’m finished with our guests, you will get your payment.”
“Do what?”
The men ignored Christine’s question. There was tension in the air between them and it felt like they were having a silent battle.
“No,” Juan said. “I want it now.”
“Come again?”
Juan stood next to Adriana and there was a flash of silver and a small stiletto blade was at her neck. “You have made me into something abhorrent,” the old man said. “I have betrayed my country. My familia, my historia, and myself. For what? For more money than a man can spend in five lifetimes. I want it all. Now. Or the girl dies.” He pressed the tip of the blade into the supple skin and droplets of blood started to seep down the fine neck.
“Forgive me,” Banks said, “I thought I was dealing with a caballero, not some Haitian thug… Very well. You may have it all. What you have earned.” He nodded.
Adriana’s hands were faster than a snake. They wrapped around the old man. His eyes went wide and for the briefest of moments, it seemed like he was going to scream.
He gurgled and foamy blood erupted from his mouth. The stiletto blade was buried deep into his chest. There were four other tiny pinpricks that were deep and seeping blood.
Adriana kept hold of the dying man and then she moved to the side and pushed.
Juan de Dios sank to the bottom of Havana Bay, leaving nothing but a trail of inky blood and a second-rate bar.
Christine’s eyes were wide as Banks went over to Adriana, handed her a handkerchief then after she had cleaned herself, he kissed her on the lips. “Go clean up.”
Adriana smiled at him and as she went inside, her eyes caught the look of betrayal on Christine’s face. Adriana Prado blew a kiss.
The Apocalypse Virus Trilogy_Book 1_Big Smoke Page 15
