Spy in a Little Black Dress

XXII



Colonel Sanchez and the sisters Death and Night planted themselves between Jackie and Emiliano and the gate, making any escape impossible. Then a straining of gears sounded as a canvas-covered, two-and-a-half-ton army truck roared through the entrance and came to a screeching halt in the middle of the parade ground. Instead of a tailgate, the back of the truck bed was covered by a metal grill, through which Jackie could just make out some cowering figures.

She turned from the truck to the colonel and said, “Very clever.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sanchez, playing dumb, a role infinitely aided by his brutish looks.

“You figured out the location of the treasure from the movie reel we left behind at the Mitchells’, then leaked the information to the East Germans and the mobsters. That way, you could lure them here and take care of them all at the same time, far from any prying eyes back in Havana.”

Jackie envisioned the killing ground outside the fort, littered now with six dead bodies. The mobsters had gone unknowingly to their deaths, but the Three Stooges, like their namesakes, had failed to use good sense and had fallen into the colonel’s trap.

Colonel Sanchez looked at Jackie with new awareness. “You are a very smart woman, Miss Bouvier. Perhaps I underestimated you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” said Jackie under her breath.

Emiliano smiled at Jackie’s comment. Without a moment’s hesitation, Colonel Sanchez reversed his submachine gun and slammed its butt end into Emiliano’s stomach, driving the lawyer down to his knees. Emiliano clutched his stomach and looked up at the colonel, waiting for an explanation.

“You think I don’t know who decoupled my train car. Left me stranded in the middle of nowhere. You think that was a funny joke?”

“Not especially,” said Emiliano, grimacing in pain and rising to his full height again. The colonel reversed his submachine gun once again so that its muzzle was now pointing at Emiliano and Jackie. No one could mistake the fact that he was deadly with either end of the weapon.

The colonel spat out orders to the driver of the truck. The man quickly got out of the cab and unlocked the grill. He made a motion to the figures inside the back of the truck, and twelve bedraggled prisoners clambered out, their arms and legs obviously stiff from being in such close confinement for so long. Among them, Jackie could make out a dark-haired beauty who looked familiar. Even shorn of her blond wig, she was obviously Rosario, whose real name Emiliano had told Jackie was Gabriela. Jackie looked at her and felt an immediate pang, identifying with the young woman and all she had gone through.

“So let me get this straight,” the colonel said to Jackie and Emiliano. “There is no treasure. No gold bars. No antique coins. No jewels. No agreements making Cuba a sovereign nation. Nothing.”

“Nada,” responded Emiliano.

“That is too bad, because you heard what I said would happen if the treasure was not turned over to me. I said that these twelve prisoners would be executed.”

Jackie tried hard not to look over at the truck but couldn’t resist a peek at the prisoners, who all had justifiably terrified looks in their eyes.

Sanchez shouted out more orders to the driver. The man had the prisoners line up with their backs against one wall of the fortress. They stood facing the sisters Death and Night, who walked over to them with their machine guns drawn.

Jackie felt her knees go weak and her heart begin to hammer as she realized that she was about to witness a mass execution. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

“You can’t do this,” Emiliano stated firmly.

“Why not?” asked the colonel. “I can do anything I like.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Emiliano said, speaking to the colonel as though he were arguing a brief against execution before a hanging judge.

“Right doesn’t have anything to do with this. I made you an offer. You reneged on it. It was a simple contract. As an abogado, you should understand this.”

“As a human being, you should understand that some things are beyond a person’s control.”

“Then that is your second mistake—mistaking me for a human being.”

The sisters Death and Night moved several steps to the side and took up positions to the right and left of the line of prisoners, who faced their executioners with a variety of looks on their faces—sadness, anger, terror, despair. Jackie was glad to see that Gabriela looked defiant. Jackie suddenly flashed on Gabriela coming to her aid at the crocodile farm and knew that she couldn’t let her die. Couldn’t let any of them die. There had to be something she could do. And in fact, there was…

Colonel Sanchez addressed the prisoners. “You have one minute to say your prayers and make your peace with God.” The colonel took out a pocket watch and looked at its sweep-second hand.

For Jackie, that minute seemed to last an eternity, but she was grateful that it gave her more time to work out her plan. When it was over, the colonel looked up from his watch and said, “On the count of three, my agents will fire. Uno…”

Jackie looked at the prisoners. Some of them began to cry. Still others begged for their lives. She knew that the time had come to do something.

“…dos…”

Before Sanchez could say tres, Jackie shouted out, “Colonel Sanchez.”

The colonel looked at Jackie, annoyed to be stopped in midcount.

“Yes, señorita, what is it?” he asked with false patience.

“Take me.”

“What?” he asked, not fully understanding what she was saying.

But Emiliano did understand what Jackie meant and cried out, “Jackie, no!” He grabbed her by the arms, as though ready to shake sense into her if he had to. “I can’t let you do it.”

“You have to.”

More insistently, he said, “You can’t do this.”

“I have to,” Jackie said with equal insistence.

Jackie broke free of his embrace and put her hands on Emiliano’s arms as though to communicate the strength of her words to him. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”

Turning back to the colonel, she said, “Take me instead of the hostages. Let them go and I will be your prisoner. You can ransom me to my government and claim a prize as large as the one you expected to find here. Maybe even more if you deliver me in one piece.”

Colonel Sanchez turned to Jackie to digest the meaning of her words. As they began to sink in, a big smile spread across his ugly face, making him seem—if it were possible—even more evil than he already looked.

“Well, that is very noble of you, señorita. Very noble. And you think one gringa equals twelve of my people?”

“No, not at all. But there aren’t twelve of my people here. Only me. And to my government, I am more than worth my weight in gold. The price may be inflated, but you shouldn’t complain since you are going to receive full value. If you let Emiliano go too, he will make sure to carry your message back to the American embassy.”

The colonel stood there, thinking over Jackie’s proposition. Jackie and Emiliano waited anxiously for Sanchez to make up his mind. In the meantime, whether it was from the heat or the stress, one of the prisoners passed out where he was standing and fell to the ground. The prisoner to his right went to his aid but was waved away by the sister nearest him, who threatened to stitch him full of bullet holes if he didn’t get back against the wall.

Finally, the colonel took out a pad and a piece of paper and wrote something on it. When he was finished, he ripped off the sheet of paper and handed it to Emiliano. “I want five hundred thousand American dollars. This is the number for my Swiss bank account. Once I have word that the money has been wired to that account, I will release your friend here.”

Jackie and Emiliano exchanged relieved glances. If the colonel was true to his word, the prisoners would be released, and so would Jackie once the money was transferred. There was something else that Jackie and Emiliano had always suspected—that this treasure hunt had been Sanchez’s private operation right from the start. He had had no plans to hand over the treasure to Batista. It was going right into his pocket. As in so many of these dictatorships, corruption, like a severed hydra’s head, seemed to multiply itself.

The colonel turned to Emiliano. “What are you waiting for? Take your people and get out of here.”

Emiliano looked at Jackie. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is the only right thing to do. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. The colonel will treat me with kid gloves. He knows the U.S. government won’t like it if I’m returned in less than mint condition.”

Emiliano went to hug Jackie, but the colonel was there to stop him. He jammed the muzzle of his machine gun into the lawyer’s stomach. “Thin ice may be in short supply on this island, but that is exactly what you are treading on here. So take your people and go, before I change my mind. Andele!”

Emiliano walked over to the prisoners and spoke to them in a soft voice. From the relieved looks on their faces, Jackie could see how glad they were to hear news of their reprieve. Together, all the prisoners lined up behind Emiliano and followed him as he led them out of the fortress that had almost become their mass grave.

The colonel called out to Emiliano. “I will see you again, señor abogado.”

Emiliano turned to the colonel and said, “I look forward to it.”

Jackie looked at Emiliano, and her heart soared. He was full of a confidence that seemed so much in keeping with his quiet strength. She knew that he would make sure that the American authorities at the embassy saw to her release.

As he left the fort, Emiliano gave Jackie a searching look, which she tried to return with a brave one of her own. Last out of the fortress was Gabriela, who looked back at Jackie with an expression of eternal gratitude on her face. All Jackie could do in return was give her a small but determined nod. The last words of noble Sydney Carton facing the guillotine came immediately to mind: “It is a far, far better thing that I do…” although Jackie was careful to mentally edit out his final thought: “It is a far, far better rest that I go to…”

Now that Jackie was left alone, the ramifications of her deal fully dawned on her. She was now at the mercy of these three sadistic individuals, who had already proven their readiness to spill blood. She began to quake inwardly at the thought that they could do anything that they wanted. Maybe, in the end, bloodlust would win out over a love of money. Jackie just had to hope that she was worth more to Sanchez alive than she was dead. She would be counting the minutes until Emiliano got in touch with the American embassy and made plans for her repatriation.

In the meantime, she was alone. There was no Emiliano to come to her immediate rescue should the need arise. She had never felt so bereft in all her life. But as she usually did in moments like this, Jackie called on her religion and drew great strength from it. “But yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For thou art with me.” If ever the words of the Twenty-Third Psalm had meaning for her, it was here and now, in this place.

Jackie’s prayer was interrupted by the sound of the driver speaking into the field telephone in the truck cab. After a brief conversation, he returned to Colonel Sanchez. Jackie heard him tell his superior that the armored train car could not reach the spur line near this fortress until morning. Colonel Sanchez looked at his watch and said, “We will spend the night here.” Addressing the driver only, he said, “Check inside and see what kind of accommodations there are.” To the sisters Death and Night he ordered, “And see if there is a cell where we can keep our friend here until morning.” With that, he dismissed Jackie from his sight and began climbing the stone stairs leading to the parapet, from which he would look out and survey his temporary new command.


Jackie was awakened by the sound of an explosion. She bolted upright from the rickety cot on which she had fallen asleep. The cot was located in a cell in one wall of the fortress. The walls were rough, and there were only narrow slits for windows and illumination. With little light and nothing to do, Jackie lay on the cot and fell promptly asleep, hoping that she would not have to endure the claustrophobic confines of this cell for too long.

The first explosion was followed by a second, then a third. Then came the sound of multiple machine guns being fired. More explosions. More machine-gun fire. It sounded like the fortress was under siege, and the colonel and his agents were defending their position. Abruptly, the machine-gun fire cut off, but the explosions continued at a rate of, Jackie reckoned, one every minute or so.

Jackie went over to the door. There was a small barred opening set in it. She had to stand on tiptoes so her mouth was even close to the bars. She called out, “Is anybody there? Is anybody there? Help! Help me! I’m being held prisoner here.”

Soon after, the explosions stopped too, and Jackie sank to the floor, fearful that she would be forgotten and left to die here. She got her second wind and was all set to commence her shouting again when a familiar voice called to her.

“Jackie?”

Jackie looked up. It was Emiliano. She couldn’t believe it. She felt a wave of gratefulness wash over her like a balm. She stood up and called out to him. “Emiliano, I’m here.”

Looking up through the bars, Jackie was relieved to see Emiliano’s face. With a half sob, she cried out, “Emiliano, I’m—”

But he cut her off. “Jackie, listen carefully. We haven’t much time. Is there a mattress in your cell?”

“Yes,” Jackie said, wondering why he was asking.

“Good. Now, I want you to take the mattress, go over to the corner farthest from the door, then crouch down with the mattress entirely covering you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Do that and you’ll be free momentarily.”

“All right.”

Dutifully, Jackie lifted the mattress off the cot and remembered thinking that it was dark when she fell asleep, so she couldn’t see how stained it might be. Now she was grateful to have it. She dragged it to the corner that she judged to be farthest from the door, knelt down with her back in the corner, and placed the mattress in front of her to fully protect her body. Then, heart pounding loudly in her chest, she held her breath and waited for whatever was to happen next.

There was a semiloud explosive sound, followed by a concussive burst of air and a grating noise as something was propelled across the cell. There was also the sudden eye-watering tang of cordite in the air. Jackie had noted that smell before, after the demolition of the rock shelf above the roadway in the Escambray Mountains. Smoke began to fill the room, and all of a sudden someone was there moving the mattress aside—Emiliano. Jackie had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. She was instantly reminded of Jacques rescuing her from the top of Notre Dame. She was lucky that when danger threatened, there always seemed to be a heroic and resourceful man waiting in the wings to come to her rescue.

“Jacqueline, are you all right?”

Jackie was so overcome with emotion that all she could do was nod.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Shoving away the mattress, Emiliano helped Jackie to her feet. An explosive charge had blown the heavy cell door off its hinges, and it now lay twisted on the opposite side of the cell.

Emiliano led Jackie out and said, “Good thing I still had some of those dynamite sticks you took from El Teatro de Cinema. I used the last one on the cell door.”

Jackie was happy that she had had the foresight to purchase a camera bag capacious enough to hold such nonphotographic items as a reel of film and a bundle of dynamite sticks.

As they rushed outside, Jackie said, “So that’s what caused those explosive sounds I heard?”

“Yes, we lobbed the other ones over the walls one at a time. Made Sanchez think that he was under attack by overwhelming forces. Must have thought it was an artillery barrage. Coward that he is, he hightailed it out of here, along with the sisters Death and Night.” Jackie smiled to hear Emiliano use the same term of reference as she did for the colonel’s henchwomen.

Now they were back on the parade ground. Sanchez and his agents were gone, along with their truck. But there was Gabriela, a big smile on her face, and her fellow former prisoners. They looked like an impromptu vagabond army. Jackie saw that the prisoners were all armed with cestas, the wicker baskets jai alai players used to hurl the pelota around the court. Of course, what better way to loft those dynamite sticks over the twelve-foot walls of this fortification. She once again admired Emiliano’s ability to improvise a solution to a seemingly impenetrable problem.

“What did you do,” Jackie asked, “hold up a jai alai fronton?”

Emiliano smiled. “Gabriela and I took off in the jeep to get help and found a closed one not too far from here. So we broke in, took the cestas, and I called your embassy and asked for help.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to play jai alai. Wait, let me guess. You played it semiprofessionally during college?”

Emiliano looked like a little boy caught with his proverbial hand in the cookie jar, but it was Gabriela who stepped in and said, “Who do you think it was taught me to throw the pelota?”

Jackie went over to Gabriela and took one hand in both of hers, “Thank you for saving my life again.”

“For what you did, for the sacrifice you made, I will be forever grateful.”

Jackie seemed suddenly confused, “But what…? How…?”

Emiliano stepped in with an explanation. “We didn’t get very far when Gabriela and I decided that we couldn’t leave you with the colonel. So we made plans to rescue you. I remembered we still had that dynamite back in the jeep. We were lucky that the colonel never noticed the jeep parked on the far side of the cemetery. Otherwise, none of this would have worked. Now we better hurry. I have arranged your escort back to the U.S.”

“When?”

“Now.”

Jackie looked incredulous. “Now?”

“Yes. And we better get started or you’re going to miss the boat—literally.”

While the other former prisoners remained behind in the fort, Emiliano and Gabriela walked Jackie past the cemetery and down to the pirate inlet, stopping off at the jeep first so Jackie could retrieve her camera bag. They walked down to the beach, now bathed bright by the rising Caribbean moon, and waited for whoever was supposed to come take Jackie home.

As they stood there, Jackie noticed something reflecting in the moonlight around Gabriela’s neck—a silver locket; no, a half of a silver locket. She couldn’t believe it. That jagged shape was unmistakable. With an excitement she could barely contain, Jackie reached into her pocket and withdrew the other half of the silver locket from the envelope. She presented it to Gabriela and said, “This is the only piece of jewelry we found in Walker’s sea chest. Does it look familiar to you?”

She held it up to Gabriela, whose mouth and eyes opened wide in amazement. “My locket,” she said. She removed the half locket from around her neck and tried to mate it with the other half Jackie had given her. They made a perfect fit. The locket was now whole again.

Gabriela looked up at Jackie. “But what does this mean?” she asked with the wondering voice of a child.

Jackie worked it out in her head. “It means that you are the great-great-great-granddaughter of William Walker and Maria Consuela. This locket was a gift from William Walker to his mistress, Maria Consuela Garcia, a former convent novitiate. She and a solder named Metzger escaped to Cuba in 1857. She was pregnant at the time and gave birth here, in Oriente Province, to your great-great-grandmother. This locket was obviously handed down from generation to generation until your mother gave it to you. But she died before she could explain the significance of it. Here’s the birth certificate we found along with the half locket.”

Jackie handed the document over to Gabriela, who looked it over with tears in her eyes.

“Yes,” agreed Emiliano, equally dumbfounded by Jackie’s discovery. “The blood of liberators flows in your veins. Being a part of this revolution is a role you were destined to play.”

Jackie said, “I have a diary left behind by Metzger. It will explain everything. When I return home, I will figure out a way to get it to you.”

All this information was too much for Gabriela. She collapsed in the sand, as though the weight of her heritage was suddenly too much for her to bear. She looked up at Jackie and Emiliano and said, “But all I ever wanted to be was a dancer.”

Emiliano looked down at her and said, “It looks like history has other plans for you.”

He helped Gabriela to her feet. She still looked shaken by this unexpected revelation. She held the two halves of the locket in her hands, anxious not to let go of them. The three of them stood there in silence, none of them knowing what to say. Their tableau was suddenly illuminated by a beam of light aimed at them from the water. Instinctively, the trio hit the sand, trying to make themselves invisible on the beach.

There was the sound of twin motors as a boat entered the pirate inlet. Jackie and the others could not see if it was a Cuban patrol boat or perhaps a fishing boat that had gone astray. Finally, a familiar-sounding voice called out to them. “Emiliano, are you there?”

“It’s him,” Emiliano said, jumping up. To the boat, he called out, “Yes, we’re here.”

The boat dropped anchor in the inlet. There was a splashing sound as someone from the vessel jumped into the shallow water and waded through the surf to the shore. In the moonlight, Jackie could make out the outline of a beefy, bearded man in a long-billed fishing cap.

“Your water taxi awaits, señorita,” Ernest Hemingway said.