So we sat there and enjoyed the moment. I glanced at the Buick Roadmaster in the parking area. Almost as important as us getting out of Cuba alive was getting our cargo safely and secretly into the U.S. And that made me think ahead to the American Coast Guard cutters and the DEA intercept boats. But Jack and I and The Maine—now Fishy Business—were in the computer system and we were considered trusted boat owners and crew, and we knew some of the Coast Guard people by name and we’d chatted with them on the radio. Same with U.S. Customs in Key West. And that, I knew, was one of the many good reasons why Carlos and his amigos picked Jack and me for this interesting job.
Our lobster salads and fries came and we ate and drank in silence, dividing our attention between the sea and the parking area where the Buick wagon sat—and where the police would come if they were looking for us.
Well, we’d gotten to Cayo Guillermo, and we’d learned that the fleet was still here. That was the good news. The bad news was that Sara and I were by now the subject of a nationwide police hunt. But Cuba was a big island, and the police, as in most police states, were better at intimidation than police science. I was sure that most fugitives were found as a result of chivatos tipping off the police. So we were relatively safe here, in a chivato-free zone.
Unless, of course, the police had made the connection between me and Fishy Business, which could have happened an hour ago, or could happen an hour from now.
So that was my analysis of enemy strengths, weaknesses, and capabilities. Now for my friends.
First, there was Eduardo on the loose. I probably should have stuffed him in a car trunk in Chico’s garage, but Sara would have been upset.
Next, I still hadn’t gotten my surprise. It wasn’t my birthday, so it had to be something else. Maybe the plan called for leaving me and Jack in Cayo Guillermo. Surprise! But they needed us for the press conference—unless that was all bullshit. But they also needed Jack and me to get the boat past the Coast Guard, and to avoid U.S. Customs. Also, now that we didn’t have the sixty million dollars with us, the chances of Jack and I being double-crossed were greatly reduced. But not zero.
And finally, I couldn’t help but think—for the last time, until next time—about the three million dollars. Two for me, one for Jack. That would have been a life changer. But maybe the money was still there, and maybe I’d come back for it with Sara—if we didn’t have a life-changing experience here in the next few hours.
Meanwhile, our contact person at the Melia Hotel didn’t know what night we’d show up, but I hoped he—or she—showed up at the lobby bar every night as instructed. It’s good to see you here.
Sara asked, “Have you figured out your surprise?”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well . . . then maybe I should tell you now.”
“Now would be good.”
She hesitated, then said, “Our contact at the Melia bar is Felipe.”
That was a surprise. But not a big one. And it made sense from a security standpoint—fewer people involved, and someone with skin in the game. “That’s good.” But why did she think I wouldn’t be pleased? Well . . . if I’m so smart, I should know.
I looked at her, and we made eye contact. “Okay . . .” I think I got it. “Okay . . . and . . . ?”
“I’m sorry, Mac. You needed to know before we met him.”
Right. So I could act as though Sara and I were barely on a first-name basis after a week together. Well, these people really did keep it in the family.
She looked at me. “I . . . don’t know what to say.”
“Well . . . me neither. But what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that we wouldn’t get this far. So it didn’t matter. I wanted you . . . and I guess I should have thought ahead.”
Well, in truth, I myself don’t often think farther than my dick, but . . . I had to admit I was . . . angry? No, more like surprised at my feelings. When the boyfriend was abstract and in Miami, it didn’t bother me too much. But now that I could put a handsome face on the generic boyfriend, and a name, Felipe, it was starting to hit me—hard.
“Say something.”
I looked at her and saw she was upset. I assured her, “When we meet Felipe, I will act as though nothing has happened between us.” I saw Casablanca six times.
“He’s already half crazy with jealously.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
“He’s Cuban.”
And this was the guy I’d be on the boat with for ten hours. Well, I had a gun. But so did he. I thought back to when I’d asked her, “How well do you know Felipe?” And she’d replied, “I’ve met him.” Well, I guess so. And I also thought back to Sara in Floridita, asking if Jack had asked me if I was sleeping with her. I recalled, too, that Jack had told me that Felipe knew Sara. Was Jack trying to tell me something? Also, Eduardo knew what was going on, maybe from Jack, or maybe from looking into Sara’s eyes at Chico’s garage, and I remembered that Eduardo reminded her that she was committed to a man in Miami. And he’d stared at her when he confirmed what the contact—Felipe—would say. It’s good to see you here.
So, yes, I had all the clues I needed. Then why didn’t I put them together? Because love is blind.
In any case, Eduardo had no way of contacting his nephew about his suspicions. And he never would. So I assured her again, “I will be an officer and a gentleman.”
“Is that all you have to say.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say you want me.”
She may have watched too many Cuban soap operas, which was what this was starting to sound like.
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.” And I really did. So I had to ask, “Do you love him?”
“I did. Not anymore. I wouldn’t have had sex with you if I did.”
“Okay. Does he love you?”
“He confuses jealousy with love.”
I never had that problem, though I have confused sex with love. But not this time.
Well, I was feeling really crappy, and I’m not used to being one side of a triangle. “We’ll stick to our story tonight, and when we get home, we can sort it out.”
She nodded and took my hand. “When we get back, I’ll tell him.”
I thought she was going to do that in Havana. But Felipe was not reachable by phone because he was on the boat. She must have forgotten.
She forced a smile. “I love you even though you have no money.”
Thanks for reminding me. But that was nice to hear, and I smiled.
She looked around for the waitress. “Let’s have another drink.”
“Not for me. But you have one.” I stood and slung my backpack on my shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“For a walk on the beach.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. We should split up—for tactical security. If the police are looking for us, they won’t get both of us, and one of us will be able to get to the hotel bar and meet our contact . . . Felipe.”
She stood. “No—”
“I’m giving the orders now, as I will be when I’m captain of my ship tonight. So get used to taking orders.”
“Mac . . . no . . .”
“You need to stay with the cargo.” I threw the keys on the table. “I’ll meet you at the Melia Hotel, lobby bar, at let’s say six-thirty.”
She looked really upset, and we were starting to attract attention, so I gave her a kiss and said, “It’s okay. This is the way to do it. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
And off I went, down toward the beach with my backpack and Glock. I glanced back to see if she was following, but I didn’t see her.
In love and war, you need to make hard decisions.
Well, this should be an interesting night. And hopefully the last surprise.
CHAPTER 49