The Cuban Incident Page 4

  “I’ll go get help,” said Maceo.

  “No, wait.”

  He turned back. “What?”

  She pointed up at the flag fluttering in the intense winds. “He’s American.”

  Both their jaws dropped.

  “We need to get out of here now,” said Javiero. “If they catch us here, we could be in real trouble.”

  “We can’t leave him here.” She noticed a stretcher latched to the side of the bulkhead below the bridge. “Grab that. We’ll bring him back to the farm. Dad will know what to do.”

  The sixteen-year-old Javiero stared at her for a moment, clearly reluctant. The injured man moaned in pain, reminding them all that a human life was involved. Maceo stepped forward and undid the straps holding the stretcher in place while Javiero continued to stare. Maceo glanced over his shoulder at his brother.

  “Come on, you idiot. The sooner we get out of here, the less likely we’ll get caught.”

  Javiero frowned but joined his brother, and they soon had the stretcher positioned beside the wounded American.

  “Be careful of his arm,” said Maricela as her brothers lifted the unconscious man. She positioned the stretcher under him then they lowered him down, the man crying out, gripping at his chest with his good hand. She leaned in and heard his wheezing breaths. “I think he’s having trouble breathing.”

  Javiero stared down at him. “Maybe he broke some ribs. Well, we’ll know soon enough.” He grabbed the straps lying on either side of the stretcher, then attached them across the man’s chest, yanking hard to tighten them.

  He groaned in agony.

  “Easy!” admonished Maricela. “If his ribs are broken, you could puncture a lung.”

  “If we have any hope of getting him off this boat, we need him strapped tightly. Once he’s on the ground we can loosen it.”

  She frowned at him, but he was right. Javiero had always been a little heartless. He could have tightened the straps more gently, though there was no point arguing now—her youngest sibling had a habit of throwing tantrums and could storm off when they needed him most.

  Maceo tightened the straps at the man’s waist and feet. “We should take him down on this side, it’s closer to the ground.”

  Maricela agreed. “We’re going to need some rope.”

  They all turned, searching the immediate area. Maceo pointed. “There.” A small portion of rope was visible through a partially open storage bin, the lid likely dislodged during the storm. He scrambled over and lifted the lid, triumphantly pulling out a long length of rope. He tossed it over to Javiero who went to work feeding it through the holes lining the hard-plastic stretcher. Finished at his end, he handed the remaining length to his brother, who completed the task.

  “Maricela, you get down below and guide us,” said Maceo.

  She nodded and rose to her feet. As she rounded the rear of the boat and made her way to the ladder, she gasped at the sight her improved vantage point revealed. There was a boat farther up the coast, approaching their position. “Somebody’s coming!”

  “Maybe they can help.”

  “But what if they’re government?”

  Javiero made his expected position clear. “Then we should get the hell out of here.”

  Maricela shook her head as she positioned herself at the top of the ladder. “He’s American. They’ll torture him. If we help him, maybe the Americans will help us.” She scrambled down the ladder and back onto the beach, quickly rounding the vessel. She stared up at her brothers. “Hurry up! Let’s get him out of here. If we hurry, we can get him home and Dad will tell us what to do. If he says to hand him over, then we hand him over.”

  Maceo leaned over the rail. “Dad’s going to kill us.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll take the blame.”

  “Yeah, like he’d blame you. You’re his favorite.”

  She flashed a grin. “Only because you two are rascals.”

  Maceo chuckled and Javiero cursed at them both. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do this!” He picked his end up and Maceo did the same. They grabbed the ropes and lifted the dead weight over the railing, both of them grunting from the effort, their faces red. She reached up, preparing to help, but the stretcher was still several feet above her outstretched hands. They eased him down the side, and he caught momentarily on the railing before he sprang loose after a violent tug from Javiero. They quickly lowered him and she took some of the load until he was finally on the beach, his feet in the water.

  She cocked an ear, the engine of the boat now audible. “Get down here quickly, they’re getting close!”

  Her brothers swung over the railing and dropped to the ground, each grabbing an end of the stretcher. She headed inland but Maceo shook his head.

  “No, they’ll just follow our footprints. Stay in the water.” He gestured with his chin toward an outcropping along the shoreline. “Let’s just get past there.”

  She ran toward where the shoreline curved inland. If they could get past that, then no one should find their tracks. They pushed through the shallow water, the going tough. The engine grew louder and she glanced over her shoulder but still couldn’t see the approaching boat, the wreck providing them with cover. As her eyes drifted, she spotted their footprints in the sand from when they arrived and cursed. She debated saying something but decided against it—Javiero was liable to drop the stretcher and run.

  She reached the outcropping first and made her way around it, her brothers on her heels. Out of sight, they all stopped, gasping for breath, and she scrambled up the embankment, staring out over the top to see a Coast Guard vessel pulling up beside the wreck, the Cuban flag flapping proudly in the wind.

  “It’s the Coast Guard,” she hissed as she retreated back down the embankment. “What do we do now? Do we wait until they leave, or do we get him home?”

  “We get him home,” said Maceo firmly. “This place is going to be swarming with the authorities.”

  “I say we leave him,” said Javiero. “We walk over there right now and tell them we found a survivor and were trying to help him, and that we were going to contact the authorities.”

  Maceo shook his head. “No, if we do that, they might not believe us. We could end up being arrested.”

  “Then just leave him here.”

  “But they might not find him in time!” protested Maricela.

  Javiero growled in frustration. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  She frowned at him. “Only if we keep standing here debating what to do.”

  Maceo ended the debate. “Maricela, you take his feet. Javiero, you can go do whatever the hell you want.”

  Javiero glared at him. “Fine. Maricela, you keep an eye out, but if we’re caught, remember our story. Maricela spotted the boat. We went on board, found the survivor, and were bringing him home to help him. We were going to notify the authorities as soon as we arrived. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” said Maricela, Maceo nodding.

  “Then let’s go.”

  8 |

  Kamarinos Residence, San Julián Air Base Pinar del Rio, Cuba

  Colonel Geraldo Kamarinos leaned back from the table, resting both hands on his full stomach, a smile on his face as his day was off to a perfect start.

  “Can I take that away, Colonel?”

  He waved a hand. “Yes, please.”

  Their housekeeper cleaned away the dishes and he smiled his thanks at her as she left the room, his wife, who sat opposite him, saying and doing nothing to acknowledge the woman’s hard work. His new position as Base Commander of the San Julián Air Base in Pinar del Rio province, afforded him luxuries they weren’t accustomed to. He had grown up the son of poor farmers in this very region. She had been the daughter of mid-level bureaucrats in Havana. Two different worlds, two different lifestyles, two different upbringings, but as he had heard said before, sometimes opposites attract, and they were definitely opposites.

  They had met at a mixer years before, his crisp
officer’s uniform attracting her, her phenomenal figure gripped by a tight red dress attracting him. They had begun dating immediately after that, and things became truly serious when he gained the disapproval of her parents. He then became not only the man she loved, but the man who would allow her to rebel against her parents.

  That was 12 years and two children ago. He still loved her, and she loved him, though he hadn’t yet given her the life he had promised. She wanted to be part of the glitz and glamour of the elite in Havana, and didn’t yet grasp that this new posting could be the first step toward it. If he did well here, he was only one step away from general, and that’s when things truly changed in Cuba.

  But he’d have to put in his dues out here in the province, surrounded by farms and the poor.

  “Don’t forget, Mom and Dad are coming tonight.”

  He tensed. “Of course, how could I forget?”

  She eyed him. “Please be on your best behavior.”

  “I always am. It’s your mother that’s the problem.”

  “Because you’re always pushing her buttons. You keep provoking her.”

  “Only after she provokes me. Is the life I provided her daughter really so bad?”

  His wife reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “It’s a wonderful life.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course I do. I have a husband I love and who adores me, two beautiful children, a fine home.”

  “It isn’t Havana.”

  She frowned. “No, it isn’t, but Havana isn’t everything. Better to be the wife of the king in the countryside, than the wife of the plumber in the palace.”

  “I was a little more than a plumber.”

  She held up her thumb and forefinger, nearly touching. “A little more.”

  He laughed. “What time do they arrive?”

  “Depending on the drive, they should be here around five or six. I’m planning dinner for seven.”

  “And they’re bringing the children?”

  She beamed. “I can’t wait to see them! I’m beginning to wish we had brought them with us.”

  He shook his head. “It’s better for them to finish the school year where they are with their grandparents, then they can come here, spend the summer getting to know the kids in the area, then start school fresh with everyone at the same time. Trust me, around here, anybody starting late in the year stands out and gets picked on.”

  “They wouldn’t dare pick on our children. Not with your position.”

  “Their parents wouldn’t because they know better, but kids can be stupid as well as cruel.”

  “Knowing the boys, they’ll tell them their daddy will have their parents put in front of a firing squad if they lay a hand on them.”

  He grunted, smiling slightly. “I have no doubt. In fact, I think I’ll have to have a word with them, because if that gets around, no one will risk becoming their friend.”

  The phone rang and footfalls rushing to the receiver were followed by words mumbled in the next room by the housekeeper. She stepped inside. “Forgive me for interrupting, sir, but there’s an urgent call for you.”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin then stepped into the next room and picked up the phone. “This is Colonel Kamarinos.”

  “Sir, this is Captain Alvarez. The Coast Guard has found something. They say you need to see it.”

  “What is it?”

  And when he heard what the crew thought they might have found, he stared through the wall at where his wife still sat and smiled.

  Your dreams of the high life in Havana may yet come true, my dear.

  “Prep my chopper.”

  9 |

  Approaching Romero Farm Outside Dimas, Pinar del Rio, Cuba

  Maricela led the way along the edge of the embankment then broke inland across the rocks where they wouldn’t leave footprints. It was hard going for her brothers, but they eventually cleared the beach, the rest of the way home on level ground if they took the roundabout way, sticking to the cleared path rather than through the fields.

  The going was slow as everyone crouched, not wanting to be seen from shore, or by the prying eyes of neighboring farms. Every time one of them thought they heard something, the warning would be sounded and they would take to the grasses on either side of the path, hiding the bright orange stretcher as best they could, turning what would normally have been a five-minute brisk walk through the fields into a half-hour ordeal.

  The farmhouse was finally in sight when Javiero brought them yet again to a halt. “Do you hear that?”

  Maricela was about to dismiss him once again when she cocked an ear. And gulped. “I think it’s a helicopter.”

  Javiero dropped his end of the stretcher, the American groaning in agony before passing out again. “I’m out of here.” Javiero sprinted toward the farmhouse, leaving Maceo and Maricela to stare after him in disbelief.

  “Grab the other end of the stretcher!” ordered Maceo. Maricela positioned herself then knelt down, lifting the end that Javiero had been carrying.

  “Where are we going to go? We can’t make it to the farmhouse in time.”

  “Just move!”

  She pushed forward, struggling to maintain her grip, unused to carrying something behind her back.

  “Just a little farther.”

  She peered ahead, searching for their destination, then spotted the culvert that ran under the path. She aimed for it then put on a burst of speed as the thumping of the helicopter rotors grew louder. She led them into the ditch then lowered her end of the stretcher directly in front of the opening. Maceo angled the stretcher then with a grunt, shoved it inside and out of sight. He scrambled away from the opening and lay on his back, against the side of the ditch, staring up at the sky.

  “Get beside me.”

  Maricela mimicked him as the roar of the helicopter approached.

  “Okay, stand up. It’ll look more natural.”

  They both scrambled to their feet and stared up at the helicopter. Maceo pointed at it and waved as it blasted past them toward the shipwreck. One of the soldiers, dressed in the uniform of an officer, gave them a salute and a smile, then was out of sight.

  Maricela sighed with relief as they watched it land in the distance. “That was close!”

  “Too close.” Maceo rushed for the culvert. “Let’s finish this before more come.” He hauled the stretcher out and Maricela grabbed the other end, no longer so convinced they would get away with her good deed.

  10 |

  Outside Dimas, Pinar del Rio, Cuba

  Colonel Kamarinos stepped from the helicopter, a smile still on his face from the sight of the waving beauty they had passed, leaving him to wonder if the young man she was with was a lover or a relation, though it didn’t matter. He was happily married, despite fighting with his wife more than usual lately, though it was nothing that threatened their marriage. When the chance to command opened in the countryside where he had been born and raised, he had taken it with her blessing, yet despite what she had said at breakfast, she wanted him to request a transfer back to Havana, but it was out of the question.

  Unfortunately, the adjustment was proving too much. Country life wasn’t for her, yet every day he woke up and headed into his office, he felt invigorated. This was where he was supposed to be. In the wide-open spaces, not in the bustling cities. But he loved his wife and he wanted to make her happy, though requesting a transfer back so soon would damage his career, and he did have ambitions. What she couldn’t understand was that out here, in command, could further his career far more quickly than a regular posting like his previous position. Here, he’d have a chance to shine, to distinguish himself, to improve his personnel report with command experience. Then, when something else came up more senior, he’d have a better shot of convincing the powers that be that he was right for the job. But other than time, it would take a minor miracle to bring him to the attention of the government.

  And
at this very moment, he might be staring at that miracle.

  When he had received word of the shipwreck discovered by the routine patrol, he hadn’t thought much of it. They had been grazed by the edge of a hurricane, so a few wrecked vessels that had broken their moorings were expected, but as Captain Alvarez continued to speak, his pulse had quickened as he realized something more might be going on here. It was an American flagged vessel, so it hadn’t broken loose from any Cuban dock, and it was manned, so it had been at sea. They must have been close to the coast, as much farther north would have the hurricane hammering them.

  But why had they shipwrecked?

  As he stared at the vessel, it appeared in good shape. It didn’t make sense for it to have washed up on shore with people aboard. If they were in trouble, there should have been a mayday call, and he had checked. None had been heard in this area. Even without what Alvarez had already told him, his gut said this wasn’t some innocent vessel piloted by an idiot who had ignored the hurricane warnings. They would have been close to the coastline, likely just outside Cuba’s territorial waters when they got in trouble, and the fact they didn’t signal a mayday suggested to him they didn’t want to be rescued by his government.

  Alvarez rushed up and saluted.

  Kamarinos returned it. “Report.”

  “Sir, we found two survivors and one body.”

  “Any identification?”

  “Civilians out of Miami, if we’re to believe what we found in their wallets.”

  Kamarinos regarded the man. “Lies, I’m sure.”

  “If what we found is what I think it is, then yes, sir, I believe so.”

  “Show me.”

  Kamarinos followed Alvarez up a ladder and onto the deck. They stepped through a hatch and walked down a short corridor. A heavy door sat ajar with an electronic keypad flickering on the bulkhead. Alvarez handed him a flashlight.