She gave him another long, searching look and then, keeping her pistol trained in their general direction, backed out of the kitchen and disappeared down the front hall and out the door.
“Aren’t you going after her?” Otto demanded.
McGarvey shook his head, and it seemed to him that he hadn’t slept in days, maybe not in years, maybe not since his first kill in Santiago when he was nothing more than a very young husband with a baby daughter at home. Now they were all dead and buried, just as so many others who’d become close to him were.
“We’re just going to let her go?”
“She has nowhere to run,” McGarvey said.
And maybe he’d finally had his fill of it all. Maybe if he thought hard enough about it, his life had been pretty much a waste.
Otto and Louise were watching him. And after a beat, Louise reached across the table and put her hands on his.
“Think about Audie,” she said.
“I do all the time.”
“Then it should be enough.”
“I’m not following you.”
“You’re feeling sorry for yourself — I can see it in your eyes from a mile away.”
Coming from Louise just now it stung. “You’re probably right. And it’s why I let her go. I’m tired of the blood. Up to my neck in it, and it’s time for me to back off.”
“Go back to your Greek island to lick your wounds?”
“Something like that.”
“And then what?”
McGarvey wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“There’ll be something else for you,” Louise said. “You do know that much at least.”
“I’m getting out.”
“No,” Louise blurted.
“It’s over.”
“What about the rest of us, what are we supposed to do? Me and Otto?”
McGarvey held his silence.
“You have a gift, Kirk. Rare and terrible as it is, we need you.”
“All the killing.”
“All the lives you’ve saved. What about them, or don’t they count?”
“My wife and daughter were murdered because of my gift, as you call it,” McGarvey shot back. His anger was rising. “I’m done.”
“What about your grandchild? Are you going to just walk away from whatever comes her way?”
“That’s not fair, goddamnit.”
“No it’s not,” Louise said. “But it’s the hand you were dealt.”
She was right, of course. He knew it in his heart of hearts, just as he knew that he would have to go back to Serifos at least for a little while. A month or two, before he could work up the courage to come back to Casey Key, reopen the house he’d shared with Katy, and pick up the threads of his life. If he had the courage.
But Louise was smiling gently now, sadly. “Anyway, Happy Birthday, kemo sabe,” she said.
McGarvey looked at her. “What?”
“It’s your birthday today, Kirk. Otto and I were hoping that this business would be done soon enough, because I planned a party. With Audie. Turns out she likes chocolate cake, with chocolate frosting, chocolate ice cream, and chocolate milk.”
EPILOGUE
It was five of a bright, sunny afternoon in Havana, when María, dressed in starched and crisply pressed olive drab fatigues and bloused highly polished boots, entered Raúl Castro’s office. She marched across the room, came to attention in front of his desk, and saluted.
“Señor Presidente, Colonel León reporting as ordered, sir.”
Castro returned her salute, then picked up the telephone to his secretary. “I am not to be disturbed for the next hour.”
Exciting new things were happening in Cuba because of her uncle. Private businesses were beginning to thrive, the formerly government-controlled private property market had been newly opened — apartments and houses could be legally bought and sold, which meant a lot of money was starting to flow into the country and the strict restriction on tourism from the States that had been in place for fifty years was finally beginning to relax with the promise of even more foreign capital.
But in María’s estimation, it was not nearly enough. They — the island — needed much more.
Castro motioned for her to have a seat. “Your mission was not a success,” he said, but his tone was not harsh.
“But not a failure, either,” María said.
“Tell me.”
“I spoke with my friend in Seville, Dr. Adriana Vergílio, who has come up with fresh evidence. Something new. On the second Spanish expedition to New Mexico, one of the enlisted men who survived was actually a spy for the Vatican. His name was Jacob Parella, and he kept a diary.”
“Your friend has this diary?”
“No, but she thinks she knows where it might be found. Parella made it back to Rome, but he never reached safety in the Vatican. Instead he was murdered and robbed, supposedly by a street gang. But Dr. Vergílio thinks it was the Voltaire Society.”
“What’s next?”Castro asked.
“I’m going to find it, of course,” María said. “Jacob’s diary is the key to the treasure.”
“You’ll need help.”
“Yes. Kirk McGarvey.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DAVID HAGBERG is a former U.S. Air Force cryptographer who has traveled extensively in Europe, the Arctic, and the Caribbean and has spoken at CIA functions. He has published more than seventy novels of suspense, including the bestselling Allah’s Scorpion, Dance with the Dragon, and The Expediter. He makes his home in Sarasota, Florida.
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Castro's Daughter km-16 Page 37
