by Riley Morgan
He parked and walked down to the little village, standing out in his filthy suit.
An old man fishing off of the village’s lone pier greeted him with a smile and a beer. Ramon politely declined the beer, but returned the smile. He asked the man if he’d seen the pontoon boats. Sure, the man said in Cuban Spanish. He’d seen them go by a few times a day for the last week. Ramon asked him how long it took for them to go and come back. The man stared off into the distance for a few seconds before looking back up at Ramon. Forty minutes going this way, he said pointing to the west. Two hours going this way, he said, pointing to the east. Ramon thanked the man warmly and returned to his truck. He didn’t know if the boats were going to another point on the coast or if they were meeting up with the yacht, but at least he had an idea of where it was.
He drove fifteen minutes down the road. The zodiacs could do nearly thirty knots, not not without giving everybody aboard a bad day. They probably cruised along closer to twenty, which meant that their destination was about five nautical miles from the fishing village where Ramon had stopped. There was a sandy cove that jutted out into the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and Ramon pulled his truck off to the side and walked out onto it. The scene was so beautiful that he hardly noticed the spirited conversation going on just on the other side of the spit.
“Is everything ready?” Zeus asked.
“We go as soon as you say. You have the money?”
“Go to Santa Aura. There’s a little cabana on the beach. Ask Miguel for the red suitcase. There’s a little extra, on account of you being so forgetful about where you got all of that money, or who gave it to you, or why. Understood.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I spent all week fishing and taking siesta. I’ve never met you before in my life.”
Zeus laughed.
“Just make sure that you’re there. Tomorrow, two o’clock sharp. Five knots due north of Arabana.”
As soon as Ramon heard the destination, he ran back across the sand to his truck. He climbed in and pulled the folding map out of the glove box. Santa Aura was between Havana and the village where Ramon had taken the cigarette boat. He’d have to move fast if he was going to beat the bandits. All that he really needed was the location of the yacht.
If he could steal a suitcase full of Zeus’s money, well that was just gravy.
Lena
Lena slept well.
Her door locked, the bed was comfortable, and a wonderful breeze blew through her window all night. She slept in as long as she could in the morning until there was a knock on the door. It was Marie. She was holding a wedding dress. “Ready for your big day? she asked.
Lena swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to smile.
“It will be ok sweetheart. I promise.”
Lena didn’t believe her, but she was grateful for the well intentioned lie.
Marie helped her into the dress. It looked wonderful. For a split second, Lena was happy. The reality of the situation creeped back in quickly after.
“You look beautiful,” Marie said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m amazed that it fits you. I don’t even remember being that small.”
“This was your dress?” Lena said.
It had been, a long time ago. Marie told Lena about how she had come to Havana almost forty years ago as a teenager. Her father was a scientists. He died when she was sixteen among revolutionary fighting.Swept up by grief, Marie fell in love with a young soldier named Ivan. He had come from Russia to support the new communist state just a stone's throw from the great United States. They married just eight months after they met.
War had not been a profitable endeavor for Ivan. He’d been shot three times and nearly died. He was unable to work for almost a year. In that time, he kept busy by organizing meetings between cigar makers in Cuba with buyers in Miami. He was among the first to profit from that most profitable trade. Business got even better with the trade embargo. Ivan had to bring on help. There were lots of unemployed young men with big ambitions and lots of bravado then. Soon, they outgrew their market and began to diversify. Damien and his brothers came along once Ivan was no longer involved in day to day affairs of running a drug empire.
Their relationship had soured even before the boys were born, but Ivan had an image to maintain. Marie couldn't leave him. It would be the end of his business. The end of him. That was fine by Marie, but he wouldn’t allow it. He knew every smuggler that could get her off of the island. None of them were dumb enough to cross him. THe island wasn’t big enough for her to hide for long. So she learned to make it work. Taking after some of the nuns at the local monastery, she learned just how helpful it could be to be a religious zealot. Nobody listens to what you say as a woman. But claim with all your heart to be doing God’s work, and you can get a little bit of power.
Ivan knocked on the door and told them it was time to go. Damien had already left with his brothers. Lena sat in the back of the car while Ivan drove up to the beach and nearly an hour to the west. He parked the car on a gravel strip by the side of the road where half a dozen other cars were barked, and they walked out onto the beach. Garlands hand been strung along the path, and the beach was decorated with big stones of bright colors. The stones made a trail to one lone dock. A motorboat, covered in flowers, awaited them. They climbed aboard and sped away from the island, due north. As the island began to fade behind them, Lena saw a big white ship glinting on the horizon. It seemed to grow larger without getting any closer. Then, as if by magic, they were there. Boats always look book in port, but out on the open water with no frame of reference, the yacht was enormous. It was like a floating city all to itself.
They pulled up alongside it, and the pilot of the boat tied it off to a rope net that hung from the side of the boat and dangled down just above the water. Ivan looked back at Lena and Marie and began to climb it.
“Watch your step,” Marie said as she held her hand out to the net.
Lena began to climb.
Up until now, the whole day had seemed so beautiful and surreal that she had almost forgotten what was happening. Halfway up the side of the ship, it hit her. She was going to get to the top only to be given over to a man who was high on her list of least favorite people in the entire world. It was only an overwhelming abundance of shitty people around her that made the title a competitive one.
Lena made it to the top and was whisked away from the crowd below deck. A man with a lisp introduced himself and began to walk Lena through the ceremony. At one o’clock sharp, music would begin to play and she would walk up the stairs in front of her and down the aisle. Once she got to the altar, she would kneel next to Damien. From there, it was as simple as following the priest’s instructions.
“Any questions?” the man asked.
“What time is it?”
“12:55.”
Ramon
Ramon had not slept well.
Cuba was not a big place, and he was sleeping less than five miles away from the place where he’d stolen nearly half a million dollars. The men who would be looking for it would be looking for Zeus’s people - he’d made sure of that when he’d left one of Zeus’s business cards with Miguel. Ramon couldn’t begin to imagine how they would respond to the insult, but his guess was that it wouldn’t be with kindness towards Zeus, and the enemy of his enemy was, well, probably still his enemy as long as he had their money, but at this point, who wasn’t out for his blood?
He’d returned to the village where he had landed in Cuba the previous afternoon. In the morning, he’d take the cigarette boat out in a big loop to the north. When it was time to crash the wedding, he’d come in fast from the ocean side. He figured if there was any chance of catching them off guard, that was the way to do it. His plan wasn’t exactly solid yet, but he was working on it.
As the sun came up the next morning, he went to the boat and checked on provisions. Gabe had given him a lot of firepower. It was a shame that he wouldn’
t be able to use all of it.
One of the biggest obstacles that Ramon was facing was how to get onto the boat. He couldn’t really climb up the gangway, even if he’d managed to cause a little chaos, that would probably just earn him a bullet in the head before he managed to get his feet on the deck.
He dug through the cargo compartment of the boat and saw that Gabe had been really, really thoughtful. Just what he needed, a grappling hook. So that was good. He had two rifles, four handguns, a fucking grenade launcher, and enough ammunition to arm a small uprising.
The grenade launcher made him sad. He’d have loved to use it, but he was hesitant to fire at all on the ship until he knew where Lena would be. Still, maybe things would go well and he’d be able to take it home with him. With the boat all loaded up. Ramon went back to the village and had some breakfast. As he ate, it occurred to him that it might be his final meal. The thought didn’t bother him. He’d remembered when he landed in Afghanistan for the first time. Just a few days before his sortie flew in, an Osprey had gone down with twenty Marines on board. Enemy small arms fire.
It was worse once he was in country. It was the late days of the war. Most of the fighting was dying down but the resistance that was left was scattered and tenacious. There were no fair fights. Mortars landed in the middle of mess halls. Snipers opened fire while soldiers took piss breaks.
Everything had potential to be the last something.
Accepting that had marked a turning point in Ramon’s life. It informed everything that he did. When he had lunch with Gabe, he ate knowing that he might never laugh at a friend’s joke, or drink a mojito, or taster al pastor again.
Everything after that was rich and vibrant and colorful. But it had worn him out. It was too much to handle. He never fit back into the world, not that he had after his sister’s death.
How else do you find yourself in Cuba preparing to attack two international crime syndicates all by yourself, armed with a grappling hook?
Ramon took the boat out twenty clicks north. He circled around due west until the yacht was just south of him. He didn’t dare move closer. He’d just have to take it on faith that it would be there.
Lena
At one o’clock, Lena heard music. She closed her eyes and opened them again, thinking maybe she’d been dreaming. No such luck.
She walked up the stairs, hoping that when she got to the top, all the guests would be on the deck with their hands over their head, and Ramon would be standing there with a machine gun in each hand and he’d whisk her away and rescue her from this nightmare. The sun blinded her for a moment when she came out into the afternoon air. Her vision returned and revealed a crowd of expectant eyes. None of them looked to be under even the slightest bit of duress. Ramon was nowhere to be seen.
She turned and looked down the aisle. Maybe, she thought, she would get there and kneel and turn and instead of Damien, it would be Ramon. This had all been a big misunderstanding and somehow it had been sorted out and she’d be able to marry the man that she loved, and not the man that she hated. It was still technically possible as she walked down the aisle. Tears clouded her vision and it wasn’t until she knelt at the altar that she confirmed that it was indeed Damien, not Ramon, who was waiting for her.
He gave her that non-smile that always made her want to strangle him. She resisted, at least for now. She even managed a smile of her own because she realized that Ramon was just waiting for the minister to get to the part of the ceremony where he asks if anyone knows of a reason why she and Damien should not be lead. Then he could burst onto the scene and proclaim his love for her. He could tell all the people here what Damien had done to her. Then every reasonable person would know that she belonged with him, not the spoiled brat who knelt beside her now. It had never occurred to Lena that they only do that in movies.
She realized it when the minister asked her and Damien to rise and say their vows. They were presented with rings. They kissed the most awful kiss of her life.
Still, there was no sign of Ramon.
Ramon
Ramon looked down at his watch. 10am. Time to move.
He pulled the wetsuit out of the cargo hold and put it on. He hated wetsuits, they made him feel like he was drowning whether he was in the water or not. But even the warm waters of the Gulf would freeze his body and sap his strength if he didn’t wear it.
Gabe had “borrowed” a dolphin from God knows where. The dolphin was a submersible, impeller driven personal watercraft. Basically, an underwater motorcycle. He’d trained on it, way back in the day, but never thought he’d actually use one. It wasn’t much faster than a good swimmer with fins, but it was a hell of a lot less work, and the GPS system would make sure that he arrived on time and on target.
The damn thing weighed a ton. It had an inflatable swim bladder that would keep it afloat, but Ramon didn’t understand how it didn’t sink like a stone. He heaved it overboard, dropped anchor, and jumped into the cool waters of the Gulf of Mexico. On his back was a wet bag with a carbine and a handgun, and one spare magazine for both. He did not intend to turn this expedition into a shootout, but he was prepared should the situation arise.
He took the controls of the dolphin and submerged into the bright blue water. He’d stay near the surface until he was within half a kilometer of the boat. Then he’d have to descend to fifteen feet or so, just to be safe. Ramon did his best not to look down into the impenetrable depths of the ocean beneath him. He knew well enough what lurked down there, and as long as they stayed where they were, he’d be happy.
The trip took a little more than an hour. It was an uneventful ride. Apart from a small school of fish that came to investigate their strange visitor, it was just empty blue ocean the whole way. When his GPS said he was getting close, he dove down into the midnight blue expanse of water beneath him and continued the rest of the way in that murky zone between light and darkness. Looking up, he could still see fairly clearly. The yacht was huge. Ramon was used to big boats, but some how he’d never gotten used to them.
Ramon was hoping that all of the security on the boat was tending to the guests. They’d be looking for intruders, sure, but their search would hopefully not include underwater attackers. He surfaced next to the boat and suction cupped the dolphin to the underbelly of the yacht. He didn’t have a lot of faith in the big plastic disc to keep his escape plan in place, but it was better than nothing.
He was still invisible from the top decks of the boat. The curvature of the hull blocked him from vision, just the way he wanted. Climbing aboard the dolphin, he pushed off a little from the boat and looked above him. There was a lower deck above him, used for loading and unloading at port. There shouldn’t be anybody there now, since port was so very far away. He opened his wet bag and pulled out the grappling hook. It went over the railing and caught on the first toss. Ramon tugged it, saw that it was in place, and began to climb the knotted rope up to the ship.
Lena
Lena was in tears when she was whisked below deck for pictures. The guests would mingle above her while the crew prepared the ballroom for the reception. She knew that Ramon was still in the dungeon in Florida. She’d heard Zeus order two goons to kill him before they left. But she’d still hoped.
Those dreams were dead now, and she tried to make herself focus on the challenge at hand. She had a new life with new struggles. She’d taken what Marie had said to heart. She couldn’t change that now. She needed to survive until she could.
She put on her best fake smile for the pictures and pretended to be in love with her terrible husband. The pictures seemed to go on forever. They walked past the presidential suite and Damien pointed it out to her.
“Guess what’s going to happen in there as soon as we go to bed?” He stretched his arms out and yawned. “I’m already feeling sleepy. Maybe we should skip the reception.”
His mother reached up behind him and flicked the back of his ears with such tenacity that everybody in the wedding party turned aro
und to see Damien clutching his ear and pouting. He looked back at her with a scowl, but she paid no attention to his childlike response. Lena didn’t understand why everyone was always so hard on their mother-in-laws.
A man in a poorly fitted black suit came up to Ivan and whispered in his ear. He looked around and whispered something back to the man who put his hand on his holster and ran off.
“What’s wrong?” Lena asked.
“Nothing sweet flower. Just maybe we have some trouble. All taken care of, no worry.”
Even Ivan was doing his best to play the doting in-law. It was terrifying.
Lena’s heart skipped. Over the last few days, she’d gotten used to “trouble” being a thinly veiled euphemism for Ramon. She knew better than to let herself get her hopes up, but the smile she wore for the rest of the shoot was a little more genuine.
Her hopes crashed when the man came back fifteen minutes later and told Ivan that everything had been taken care of.
Lena learned at the reception that a pontoon boat full of men had tried to take over the boat but that the combined security forces on the boat had handled them without incident. A few of the guests had been spooked, and one guard stationed at the loading deck had been knocked out and was still unconscious, but otherwise, no harm had been done.
