Spy in a Little Black Dress

PART TWO

EL TEATRO DE CINEMA





VIII



Feeling like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, Jackie plummeted through the opening at the bottom of the funnel and fell, luckily, only a short distance. She landed with a thud on the muddy floor of the crocodile pit and had the wind momentarily knocked out of her. Trying to convince her lungs to breathe once again, she scanned her new environment and found to her horror that she was at the epicenter of about twenty hungry crocodiles, their scaly hides glistening wetly in the murky light of the pit. One of the beasts was practically face-to-face with her, his breath so foul that it caused Jackie to flinch and her eyes to water. Fortunately, the crocodiles had been totally shocked by her sudden arrival and were holding off from eating her until they had sized up how much of a danger she presented. So, even as they surrounded her, these lumbering beasts maintained a slight, cautious distance from Jackie.

Slowly rising to her unsteady feet, struggling at the same time to gather her wits, Jackie tried hard not to panic. Fear would have been a normal reaction for anyone in this predicament had it not also run counter to her newly honed survival skills as a CIA-trained espionage agent, which, admittedly, hadn’t prepared her for this eventuality. Steady, Jackie, she told herself, you can get out of this. All you have to do is apply your brain. And then, having said this, she felt something stirring in the back of her memory that she knew she must work quickly to retrieve.

It was a memory only several months old, so she didn’t have to work all that hard to recover it. Her family was gathered in the living room watching a show on the new cabinet-model DuMont television when she passed the set going upstairs to get ready for a date and stopped to see what they found so engrossing. But what show was it? And how could it be applicable to what she was facing now? As the crocodiles continued to circle menacingly, Jackie racked her brain to remember what her family had been watching that night. And then it came to her.

A dapper-looking man in a safari jacket. Marlin Perkins. Yes, Marlin Perkins, the famous zoologist and host of Zoo Parade, broadcast on NBC from Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo. And there he was standing next to a crocodile, the creature looking slightly more docile than the ones sizing her up here, and talking about the peculiarities of the species.

Jackie remembered him looking into the camera and saying, “Crocodiles are fast moving but slow-witted. They will eat almost anything but will back off from any creature that is larger than they are.”

Jackie had her answer. But how to put it into effect?

Slowly, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would alarm these improbably patient crocodiles, Jackie reached down with both hands and gathered up the material at the back of her raincoat until she was holding on to its hem. Then, just as slowly, Jackie raised her arms to their fullest extension, until she had the raincoat high over her head, like a cape that the wind had blown upward. Once again careful to make no abrupt moves, she slowly turned in place, facing the crocodiles while simultaneously letting out a growling sound that she hoped approximated the warning of a jungle predator and would, along with her enlarged silhouette, have the desired effect on these salivating creatures. Jackie figured that the extended cape added another two feet to her already five-foot, nine-inch frame.

For several moments, nothing happened. The crocodiles continued to assess her as their next entrée. Undeterred, Jackie continued to growl and revolve slowly in place, like an actor performing in the round. Her arms were beginning to tire, but she still held the raincoat, maintaining her outsized silhouette. Just when she thought that Marlin Perkins didn’t know what he was talking about, she was rewarded with the sight of one crocodile backing off slightly. To her relief, the others seemed to follow this crocodile’s lead, leaving her with some much-needed breathing room.

Jackie heaved a sigh of relief. Even though the pit was in near darkness, she thought that she could see the outline of a door at the opposite end. She began to move in that direction, keeping her arms up just to make sure that the threatening crocodiles would maintain their distance from her. As she moved at a stately pace, worthy of Queen Elizabeth, Jackie saw the beasts begin to turn with her as they followed her escape route to the door. Perhaps they were feeling emboldened and were revising their original opinion of her threat potential.

The closer she got to the door, the more the crocodiles once again began to close in on her. Jackie didn’t know if she could make it to the door in time to prevent herself from being torn to pieces. And when she did arrive at the door, then what? Suppose it was locked from the outside, a sure way to keep these crocodiles from getting loose. But she put that thought out of her head, deciding that the only proper course of action was just to put one foot in front of the other and literally take things one step at a time.

Her arms tiring, Jackie momentarily lost her grip on her raincoat, which fell once again to its original shape closer to her body. Deflated to normal size, Jackie watched as the crocodiles, with boldness renewed, began to close in for the kill. One snapped its mighty jaws at her and took a big bite out of the back of her raincoat. Following suit, another tried a taste of the garment but found it wanting and spat it out. A third was about to take a sample of her actual flesh when—

A beam of light stabbed into the room. Their prehistoric reptile eyes sensitive to the light, the crocodiles were momentarily distracted from their meal. A thankful Jackie looked up and saw that the beam of light was coming from the door, which was slowly opening. And the more it opened, the more daylight streamed into the pit, ceaselessly flooding it with illumination and causing the crocodiles to retreat to the dark recesses at the back, leaving Jackie alone, praise be to all the saints.

When the door opened all the way, Jackie saw the outline of a woman framed in the doorway and heard her say, “Señorita Bouvier?”

Jackie was surprised to hear herself addressed by this strange woman in this unusual place. So it took her a moment or two to collect herself and say, “Yes.”

In Cuban-accented English, the woman said, “Please come with me.”

She held out her hand to Jackie and motioned for her to move with all possible haste through the door.

Jackie didn’t need a second invitation. Outside the pit, she found herself in a fenced-in crocodile pen. Fortunately, it was empty, except for the woman. She helped Jackie out of the pen and led her toward an old, rattletrap pickup truck on the far side. The woman wore dungarees and a loose-fitting chambray shirt, but beneath them Jackie could detect a well-developed female form.

Before they could even arrive at the truck, the Three Stooges rounded the side of the building that housed the crocodile pit and were even now racing across the pen to get to Jackie. They must have waited for a few minutes before daring to find out what condition the crocodiles had left their hostage in. As they ran, Moe, Larry, and Curly all pulled out pistols and brandished them in the direction of the fleeing pair.

As Jackie watched, the woman reached into one pocket of her dungarees and withdrew a hard-looking ball. With a quick side-arm movement, she flung the ball in the direction of the Three Stooges. The well-aimed sphere hit Moe in the right shoulder, spinning him around like a top and knocking him to the ground as a large moan of pain passed through his lips. Forgetting all about the fleeing Jackie, Larry and Curly went to the aid of their fallen comrade.

The woman climbed over the fence, then held out her hand and helped Jackie clamber over it. Once on the far side of the pen, the woman made for the truck and got in on the driver’s side of the cab. Jackie jumped in on the passenger side. She looked through the window and saw that Moe was sitting up and rubbing his right arm, which hung loosely at his side. Larry and Curly rose and, pistols in hand, began firing at the truck before it could leave. Jackie cringed as one bullet spanged into the right front fender below her and another shattered the driving mirror next to her.

Unfortunately, the truck was slow to start, and the woman had to grind down on the gears a few times before the vehicle finally lurched forward and began to roll away. Its springs were gone, and the truck bounced up and down as the woman pressed on the accelerator. A few more shots came from the remaining Stooges, but they fell short of their mark. Jackie quickly looked out the rear window and saw Larry, Moe, and Curly as they receded into the distance. Moe was obviously in no condition to give chase.

The truck was now flying down a dirt road. The woman was careful to make sure that she drove over every dip, rut, and pothole in the road, or at least that’s the way it seemed to Jackie as she jounced up and down in her seat. After a while, the road leveled out and the ride became slightly smoother.

Jackie turned to the driver and said, “Thank you.”

The woman turned and said, “You’re welcome.” She stuck out her hand and said, “Rosario.”

Jackie took it and said her name.

“Yes, I already know who you are, Señorita Bouvier.”

“Call me Jackie. Anyone who saves my life is entitled to call me by my first name.”

“Sí, Jackie.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, the hot air wafting through the truck’s open windows. Jackie swiped a stray wisp of hair from in front of her eyes and said, “Is this what you do, Rosario, cruise around the countryside rescuing damsels in distress?”

“No, Señorita Jackie, I’ve been following you ever since you arrived.”

This brought Jackie up short. She had no idea that she had picked up a tail at the airport. She guessed that she should have paid more attention to the Farm’s course on field surveillance and countersurveillance techniques.

Rosario explained, “I work for Emiliano, and he wanted me to keep an eye on you until he could meet with you. To make sure you stayed out of trouble until your meeting. So I was nearby when those three men kidnapped you off the street. I was unable to get to you in time, but I followed you to the crocodile farm and waited for my chance to help you.”

Jackie looked at Rosario and said with gratitude, “I guess that makes you my guardian angel.”

Behind the wheel, Rosario blushed.

Jackie could smell the salt air. So her senses hadn’t deceived her before. She looked out the side window and, through the lushly growing mangrove plants bordering the country road, she could see the ocean in the near distance.

Jackie looked back at Rosario and asked, “What do you call this place?

“Bahía de Cochinos,” Rosario responded.

“And what does that mean in English?”

Rosario looked over at Jackie and said, “Bay of Pigs.”


Rosario drove her back to the city. On the way, she didn’t have much to say. She seemed to be a woman of few words—in English or Spanish. Nevertheless, Jackie found her presence extremely comforting. She seemed to give off a sense that all would be well and remain well as long as she was around.

Leaning her head against the doorframe as they drove past vast, shaded fields where tobacco was grown and harvested, Jackie tried to relax and couldn’t help thinking about everything that had happened since her arrival in Havana. It seemed to rival last year’s Paris assignment for the alacrity with which events had spun out of control. Hours after arriving in Paris, she was having dinner at Maxim’s with a handsome Russian spy planning to defect to the U.S., went to meet him the following night at his rented garret, found him dead, was chased by his killer, spent one danger-filled week on the run trying to find out why the Russian had been killed, and in the bargain, helped an exiled princess return to her homeland. Of course, it didn’t hurt that her partner for this mission was a dashing young French photographer with whom she had fallen foolishly in love.

And now, here she was, only hours after landing at the Havana airport and checking into her hotel, kidnapped off the street while taking a walk, and almost eaten by crocodiles before being rescued by this strange Cuban woman. If this was any indication of what lay in store for the rest of her assignment, then Jackie was not so sure that she wanted to go through with it.

“So, Rosario,” Jackie inquired in an attempt to get out of her own head, if only for the moment. “What was that thing you hit Moe with?”

Rosario looked uncomprehendingly at Jackie.

“Sorry, the man with the bowl haircut. I call him Moe because he reminds me of one of the Three Stooges. You know the Three Stooges?”

Rosario had a confused look on her face, then said, “Sí, sí, Los Tres Chiflados.”

“Yes, what did you hit him with?”

With one hand on the steering wheel, Rosario reached into her right dungaree pocket with the other, taking out another one of those black spheres and handing it to Jackie. It was small and hard and looked like it could be deadly in the right hands, such as Rosario’s.

“What is this?” she asked Rosario.

“A pelota,” she explained. “You use it in jai alai.”

“Ah, you play jai alai?” That explained her sidearm maneuver and the way she was able to strike Moe so expertly. Jackie hadn’t known there were any female jai alai players.

Rosario didn’t answer for a moment, then said, “A friend taught me. He used to play jai alai. But he had a little problem with gambling so he had to quit.”

Jackie had read, in a classified Justice Department report provided by Robert Maheu, that jai alai was under the thumb of the Italian American criminal organization known as La Cosa Nostra, which literally translated into “Our Thing.” Mobsters such as Meyer Lansky and Charles “Lucky” Luciano controlled the nightclubs, the gambling, and other sports activities in Havana too. So if Rosario said that her friend had a little gambling problem, and mobsters like those were involved, it was no wonder that he had taken himself out of the game.

“And you work for the revolution?”

With surprising vehemence, Rosario said, “Batista, no; Castro, sí.”

Jackie smiled at that.

“You think that this Castro will make a good leader?”

“Sí. He is muy smart, muy simpático. He has the welfare of the campesino and the working man at heart.”

Jackie nodded in appreciation. “And do you have any sense of his political leanings?”

Rosario thought before answering. “I know that he despises Batista and all the corruption he stands for. He wants to replace his despotic rule with a more democratic form of government. And that is good enough for me.”

Jackie was impressed. Despite her taciturn manner, Rosario appeared to be a well-spoken and dedicated revolutionary.

By this time, they were back in the city. Rosario was driving the truck through the old part of town, Habana Vieja, and stopped in front of a crumbling white, five-story structure. Jackie looked at her questioningly.

“Your hotel,” she said simply.

“This isn’t my hotel,” Jackie protested.

“It is now,” Rosario said.

Jackie waited patiently for her to explain.

“Those three men,” she went on, “back at the crocodile farm, they are sure to know where you are staying. So you must stay someplace else.”

Jackie looked up at the building. She imagined that the place was overrun by bedbugs and that the water in the taps must run brown from rust. She shuddered at the thought of staying there and tried to challenge Rosario’s choice by saying, “Here?”

“Sí.”

“But what about my bags? My clothes.”

“Don’t worry. I will go to your hotel. And once I see that the coast is clear, I will get your things and bring them here to you.”

Jackie shuddered once again at the thought of what was in store for her once she crossed the threshold of this hotel. Rosario must have detected her lack of enthusiasm for the choice of accommodations.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “it won’t be so bad. And it will probably only be for one night. I’m sure Emiliano will pick out another place for the rest of your stay that will be safe from prying eyes.

“He wants to meet with you tonight. I can’t reveal the location now. But I will come at eight and take you to him. In fact, I will be back earlier with your clothes so you have enough time to change.”

“And how shall I dress for this meeting with Emiliano?”

Rosario thought about it, then answered, “Have you ever danced the mambo?”

Jackie shook her head and said, “Not really.” She would have to go through her luggage and see if she had packed anything appropriate in which to dance the mambo. A dance that she didn’t know but that she would have to pick up on the fly, which seemed to be the way almost everything on one of these espionage assignments came to her.

With a sigh, Jackie got out of the truck and walked up the steps to the hotel entrance. All of a sudden, she felt tired from the events of the past few hours, and badly in need of a nap, and knew that nothing, not even bedbugs or a sagging mattress, was going to keep her from her much needed date with oblivion. She just hoped that if she dreamed, it wouldn’t be of crocodiles.