Cuban Sun (11 page)

“Well, that’s where I met the Alchemist. He was a wonderful teacher and mentor. He earned that moniker from his unequalled skill with his hands. And that skill helped him work his way up through Harry Winston after he left the IRA which was around the same time I did.”

Sofia ventured a guess, “Bomb making?”

Helena shrugged, “That and other things. He designed most of my reconnaissance equipment. Still does come to that. He loved me, but I was much too young and angry to love anyone or anything, least of all myself.”

“So, why did you leave?”

“I was on a surveillance assignment, watching a young American agent who was working with British intelligence. He figured out what I was up to and called me out. Luckily, he just approached me. He was kind enough not to tell my superiors or his. I left him alone after that, I begged off the assignment but he kept popping up in the same places I was. Of course, I knew it was on purpose. After a while we talked and became fairly close, covertly of course. I couldn’t have anyone know I was talking to a known American agent, even if it was innocent. “

“Weren’t you worried about him trying to get information from you?”

“At first, but we never talked about our work or politics or cases. He never once asked me for a piece of information on our actions. Then, a few months after he and I had been…well, I wouldn’t call it dating exactly, but talking, he said that he wanted to tell me something about my family. He showed me a file with my dossier. I saw evidence that the explosion that killed my family was actually set by the IRA, my neighbor to be precise.”

Sofia was horrified. Whatever lay between her father, mother and her was nothing compared to what Helena had endured?

Sofia asked the question. “Why would they do that? Was he pro-treaty or pro-British rule?

Helena shook her head, “No, he was a leader in the IRA actually. I didn’t know that at the time, we hardly spoke. But, there was reliable intelligence that he was trying to get out and move us to County Cork where his family was from. I suppose he didn’t want us growing up in what was becoming increasing violence. The leadership couldn’t let that happen. They weren’t the forgiving type.”

“How did you know it was the IRA?”

“They used Semtex. It was one of the only explosives at the time that was so powerful. And, it was very much in vogue with the Organization in the late sixties and early seventies.”

“That’s awful, I’m so sorry. It must have been unbearable to know you were working for the people, the person who killed your family.” The comment didn’t begin to equal Sofia’s reaction to the unimaginable betrayal, but she didn’t know what else to say so she leaned over and hugged Helena. Helena patted her on the back.

And Sofia asked, “How did you leave the IRA? You couldn’t have told them you knew anything or that you wanted out.”

“No, I was young, but not naive. The American agent helped me. He got me a job, a passport and asylum.”

“Sounds like a good man to me. You should have held onto him.”

Helena smiled, her usual radiance returning “Well, in my packet of documents, he also gave me an engagement ring and the keys to a rusted old sailboat.”

Sofia felt like she’d been hit over the head. “Joe!”

Helena nodded. “Yes, we’ve been together ever since he saved my life. That is what he did; he saved me from the violent vortex that was carrying me under.”

“I guess Mr. Winston was none too pleased.”

Helena responded through suppressed laughter. “No, he wasn’t. He was convinced Joe was using me. He’s a very proper British gentleman and absolutely hated Joe’s brash, somewhat arrogant personality. He still doesn’t like Joe much, even after all these years. But, when I left the organization, so did he. At the time, I was convinced he knew about the IRA’s plot on my family but looking back, there was very little chance he knew anything. He rarely knew who the targets were. Being young and in love though, I was very angry with the Organization and at his friction with Joe. I’m so glad he was old enough to know how stupid the young can be.” She laughed again. They had arrived at the
Mariana
and Helena put a hand on Sofia’s arm to stop her opening the car door.

“Please don’t mention our conversation with Joe. He still gets wound up about it.”

“Of course. It’s between us.” As they made their way back onto the yacht, Sofia reflected on their conversation. Helena, for all her elegance and contentment had struggled through so much, had escaped so much. Sofia saw in her a kindred spirit. Finally, there was someone Sofia could rely on and trust with her own struggles.

TEN

Helena and Joe deemed it prudent to move slowly toward the arrival in Cuba. Sitting at the large dining table, all four discussed the best route to take. While ostensibly going to Cuba on business, they didn’t want to appear over eager. They knew that they were being watched. Though Joe still treated Sofia’s attack as a terrible coincidence, they still meant to be cautious.

So, the
Mariana
would take a direct but leisurely route stopping in Nassau, Bahamas for supplies and Humacao Puerto Rico to make final arrangements for the Caracciola and then finally making the last leg to Cuba. The trip would take about four days. A shiver ran through Sofia, how could she possibly be ready in four days? How could one ever be ready for something like this? Quint saw her slight movement at this pronouncement and put a light and brief hand on her leg while offering a quick sidelong glance. He misinterpreted the stiffening of her thigh beneath his hand and spoke reassuringly.

“Sofia, remember that your role is important but not overly dangerous. All you need to do is find out the extent of Castro’s condition. Or whether he has one at all.” She had resolved to banish her feelings for Quint. They were now co-workers, and he was her professor. Starting a relationship seemed wildly inappropriate. Though she believed that, she couldn’t control her body’s response when he was near her or, heaven forbid, if he touched her.

She responded more sharply than she intended in an attempt to cover her feelings. “Look, I’m not a doctor, how am I supposed to find out?” She immediately regretted the words. Joe’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline and Helena’s contracted into a deep furrow. Sofia sighed. “Sorry, can you go over the condition one more time? I’m sure I’ll think of something.” That was her job after all; any monkey could follow step by step instructions. They chose her because she could be resourceful and think on her feet. That thought at once gave her both an unexpected sense of pride and a wash of the now familiar sense of being overwhelmed. Very few of her recent successes had arisen from planning, but rather, from last minute inspiration. Being a habitual planner, continuing this new method of in the moment action did not appeal to her. She briefly remembered her vow to let go and allow the current to carry her and then refocused on Quint’s explanation.

“It’s been rumored that Castro has a condition called exercise anaphylaxis. People with this condition can go into anaphylaxis if their heart rate or perspiration rises above a certain point, or sometimes when experiencing a certain level of vibration. The trouble is the tolerance level is different for each person.”

Sofia shook her head. “So even if he has the condition, we may not be able to trigger it if he has a high tolerance. That has to be incredibly rare. Now that I think, how could he have survived the Cuban sun for this long with this condition?”

Helena shrugged and ran a hand through her long auburn hair. “We’re not entirely sure that he does have it. But, our professional community is a small one and we heard of a government operation a few years ago that led us to believe that he may.”

Joe cut in with a derisive laugh. “Another botched assassination attempt. This one was on his brother Fidel. Stupid really, the guy was on his last leg at that point anyway. In any case, the agent was the femme fatale type; you know seduce the guy into letting his guard down.” At this point he paused and looked pointedly at Sofia. “That absolutely does not work. Remember that. The girl almost always ends up dead, or worse.” Sofia nodded and unwillingly imagined all the scenarios that would be worse than death. They came far too readily to her mind. Joe continued, “The stupid girl ended up in bed with Raul instead of Fidel and noted during her debrief that during their, ah, activities, he had gone completely white and couldn’t breathe. The physician had to rush in and give him an injection of some kind.”

Helena shook her head sympathizing with the agent. “Poor girl, she was booted down to the hinterlands of the agency. But, it told us that this might be an avenue to pursue. It eliminates the more dangerous and infinitely messier options if we can eliminate him this way.”

“I see. Like I said, I’m sure I’ll be able to find that out if I can meet him personally. But why must he be assassinated? Surely, there are watchdog groups or multinational organizations that can bring him up on charges.”

Quint shook his head; a hard look sharpened his features. “It’s a forty billion dollar business Sofia. A lot of countries rely on this labor for production. And, as for sexual slavery, well, weakness doesn’t just affect those we consider to be evil.” Sofia wasn’t shocked, but still, the injustice of it sent heat flooding to her face.

Helena touched her arm to emphasize her point. “Basically Sofia, there are so many large, well-funded and powerful players that bringing the ring out into the open and taking it down that way would take much longer, hurt more people and, in the extreme, could start a war. Assassination is relatively bloodless and leaves an opening for others to put a better leader in place. That plan is already in place if we succeed. Of course, that’s an oversimplification, but you get the point.”

Sofia took a moment to organize her thoughts.  “OK, so then I will need to know the agenda in as much detail as possible and the layout of the residence.  You know, in case I have the opportunity to rifle though his medicine cabinet.”  The joke worked; the others chuckled appreciatively which lightened the mood.

ELEVEN

After two days of briefings on Castro's residences, his advisor, and his habits and on and on, Sofia was grateful to have something else to do. It seemed that Quint had been directed to teach her some basic self-defense techniques and behavior protocols that may be required.

“You never know.” Quint said when Sofia protested, “It’s better to have it than not. It’s a matter of a couple of seconds to react and you can’t waste it.”

So, the following day, she met Quint on the sundeck for instruction as it was the only area with an open space large enough for maneuvering. Sofia shivered despite the heavy humidity. She stood in front of Quint feeling like a clown getting into the ring with a boxer, and in this scenario she wasn’t the boxer. She didn’t consider herself a soft touch by any means, she was lean and well-muscled. But, she had never learned self-defense and, thank God, had never needed to. As Sofia pondered this, she and Quint took their positions opposite one another standing incredibly still as if rooted.

Finally, Quint spoke. “I’m just going to teach you some basic moves for escape and defense. It won’t be anything terribly complicated, but I want to emphasize how important it is.” Sofia wanted to laugh but suppressed it. The professorial tone was incongruous to the man that stood before her. I was more in line with the “khakis and blazer” Law professor version of Quint. Here, he was still unshaven and wearing only a fitted white t-shirt and loose, black martial arts pants. As he approached, she noted that although his look was vastly different than she was used to, the tone was appropriate. He was the instructor once again and she, the student. Quint took her arm and said, you probably won’t need these moves but I still think they’re important just in case.

She looked up and quirked an eyebrow, “I thought you and Joe would be there to protect me.”

Quint’s brows knitted but his tone remained light, “We will, but you never know what will happen. I’ve needed these on occasion myself.” Sofia was starting to feel uncomfortable. She didn’t want to have to use them. All the possible scenarios flitted through her brain in a matter of seconds leaving her feeling even more anxious than before. She laughed, hoping the movement would dispel the creeping sensation along her spine.

She put on her best southern belle accent for effect and said, “Why Quint, you’d think a girl couldn’t count on big strong men like you.” She felt her arm jerk so hard her shoulder popped. She gaped at Quint, wide-eyed.

His eyes sparked with anger. “This isn’t a joke Sofia! God knows I hope you don’t need this shit, but if you do, you have only seconds.” He gave her a little shake. “That means you have to know the moves well enough to act instantly, not to have to think about them.” She jerked her arm but he held fast. Furious at not being able to break free, she struck at him verbally.

“I know! I’ll do what I need to but there’s no call for you to yell at me. I won’t tolerate that.” Sofia was striving for calm.

Quint took a deep breath and loosened his grip but didn’t let go. “Fine, get out of this hold. It’s an easier one. I’m only holding one arm and my body isn’t in contact with yours.” She didn’t know quite what to do. It was incredibly awkward to be standing here with her Law professor who, up until a few weeks ago, she had to call “Dr. Quintis”. Now, instead of lecturing on Confidentiality, he was grabbing her arm on a yacht on the way to assassinate a dictator. The absurdity of the situation left her at a loss for what to do. She tentatively tugged her arm trying to break the grip. Quint’s brows drew down even further and he took a step closer. His step may as well have been a blow to her head for the impact it had. Fear coursed through her body as he menaced her and he squeezed tighter making her gasp.

She tried in earnest to escape this time using her body weight to pull back but the force caused his fingers to dig in further and the slight movement of her arm created an incredible amount friction. Now her arm burned and pulsed as the blood struggled to her fingers. Quint slowly, lazily stepped behind her deliberately bending her arm up at an impossible angle that forced her to her knees. She looked up at him, rage and betrayal blazing in her wet eyes. His eyes met hers, hard and implacable. He didn’t speak but increased the pressure on her arm forcing her head down nearly to the deck in order to avoid snapping her wrist.