size-twelve shoe pressed against his throat.
Adrianna came into Devlin’s arms and hugged him. Her entire body was trembling.
“Abakua?” Devlin asked, over her shoulder.
Martinez’s men raced in from the parking lot. Martinez turned away from the fallen attacker and holstered his automatic.
“Yes, they are Abakua,” he said. His face filled with rage as he stared at the fallen CDR man. Blood poured from a wound only inches from the small man’s throat.
Martinez snapped out a command, and one of his men raced back toward the parking lot. Then he knelt next to the fallen man and spoke soothing words in Spanish.
“He’s telling him that his man is going for a medical kit and to radio for an ambulance,” Adrianna said. She watched as Martinez took a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the wound. “I think he’s worried the knife may have hit an artery.”
Devlin pulled away and knelt down next to Caputo. The little man’s color had faded badly, and he seemed about to go into shock. Devlin turned back to Adrianna and asked for the shawl she was wearing, then covered Caputo’s body as best he could.
“How’s he doing?” Devlin asked.
Martinez’s head snapped up. “Who, this unimportant little pineapple farmer? This … snitch?”
“He’s a brave man.”
Martinez looked down again, and ran a hand along Caputo’s forehead. “When he was just a small boy, he fought in these mountains with Fidel. He was twice wounded. When the revolution ended, the Comandante personally awarded him a medal for his courage.” He looked up again.
Devlin chewed his lip. “I owe him,” he said.
The major’s eyes did not soften. “Yes, senor, you do.”
They hit the house half an hour later. Martinez’s men moved in quickly and professionally. Doors were smashed open, and the house was searched room to room. It was empty.
Caputo’s wife arrived and told them that a car had left with six men and headed for the shrine. She said she followed it to the foot of the drive that led to the parking area and saw it leave quickly. That was almost a half hour ago, she said. And, when it left, the car held only four men.
Martinez told her what had happened and ordered one of his men to take her to her husband. Adrianna and three of Martinez’s officers had remained with the fallen CDR man to await the ambulance that had been summoned from Santiago.
Devlin glanced at his watch. “The four who took off could be at the airport by now,” he said.
“I will radio ahead,” Martinez said. He gave Devlin a steady look. “Whoever they are, they were waiting to see you dead.”
12
I give to you several choices,” Martinez said. “I have available to me a very fast boat that can get you to Key West in a matter of hours. I believe a telephone call can also have American police waiting there when you arrive.
“Next is our own court system, a choice that will undoubtedly lead to one of the many prisons that are even less pleasant man the Villa Marista.
“Finally, you may choose to help the police in their duties, and when all is finished, you may find yourself sitting on one of the lovely beaches of Brazil.”
Robert Cipriani stared at his shoes and said nothing. He was seated in the same room where Baba Briyumbe had been questioned. Cabrera’s man, Major Cepedes, was under guard in an adjoining room. The two Abakua, who had accompanied them to the airport, were now sharing a cell with the pair arrested in Cobre after the attempt on Devlin’s life. Much to Martinez’s displeasure, the four men who had fled the shrine by car were still at large.
Cipriani looked up at the major. His eyes were devoid of any hope. “I’ve already answered your questions. I want to be returned to the Villa Marista.”
Martinez turned to Devlin and Pitts. “This is the first time in my experience that anyone has volunteered for a cell in the Villa Marista. State Security must have greatly improved the accommodations.” He spun around and brought his face within inches of Cipriani’s. “This is your last chance. If you continue to tell me you were released, under guard, so you could visit an anonymous friend, you will be held incommunicado for ten days, as our law allows. Then you will be placed on trial for conspiracy to commit murder. I suspect Colonel Cabrera will also charge you with escape, and Major Cepedes will be given a medal for achieving your capture. If you are found innocent of these charges, you will be placed on the fast boat I spoke of, and returned to the United States, where a long prison term awaits you. Now speak, or prepare yourself for everything I have told you.”
Cipriani closed his eyes. “What is it you want to know?”
Martinez rubbed his hands over his face. “The same thing I have asked you for the past hour. The names of the persons you visited in Cobre, the purpose of your visit, and whether or not you were sent there by Colonel Cabrera, as the presence of Major Cepedes would seem to indicate.”
“You’re not offering me anything but a prison cell or a death warrant,” Cipriani said.
“I am offering you a beach in a country that does not have an extradition treaty with the United States. If my information is correct, you were preparing to go to that country when you were arrested by Colonel Cabrera.”
Cipriani shook his head. “I understand they’ve also got nice cemeteries in Rio.”
“If you are afraid of Colonel Cabrera, I assure you he will present no problem for you.”
Cipriani gave him a mirthless laugh. “I’m not worried about Cabrera. If you get what you want, he’ll be too busy trying to avoid a firing squad.”
“Who are you afraid of?” It was Devlin this time. “Are we talking narcotics? Like maybe your visitor flew in from Medellin, and our poking around is screwing up some drug deal Cabrera has working?”
Cipriani shook his head. “I’ll take my chances with Cabrera. When Cepedes and I don’t show up, he’s going to start looking.” He let his eyes fall hard on Martinez. “You ready to take on State Security, Major?”
Martinez gave him a cold smile. “It would appear I already have, senor.”
They sat at a large table on the Casa Grande’s rooftop terrace. It was after midnight and a rumba band provided the rhythm for several dozen swaying hips. Devlin, Adrianna, and Pitts showed no interest in the music. Neither did the three men at the next table. They were Martinez’s men, sent to play bodyguard while the major put the finishing touches on the arrests he had made.
Adrianna stared out over the waist-high terrace wall. There, appearing almost close enough to touch, the twin spires of the cathedral hovered in the darkness, the large granite angel set between them like some avenging specter. Beyond the cathedral, even the lights of the harbor seemed ominous, as if their normally romantic glow were hiding some new and yet-to-be-revealed threat.
Adrianna turned away from the view. “I don’t like this city. It looks so small and peaceful, but it’s not.”
Pitts grinned at her. “Hey, it’s hard to like a place where witch doctors put curses on you and a bunch of ‘yoms try to slice you up with shivs.”
“Watch the racist crap,” Devlin warned.
Pitts raised his hands. “Okay, okay. A bunch of Abakua. The same group of loonies who tried to do us in with a truck in Havana.” He glanced at Adrianna and grinned again. “So how do you feel about Havana?”
Adrianna ignored him. She turned to Devlin. “Maybe we should forget everything and go home. My aunt’s dead. Let the Cubans find her and bury her. She wouldn’t want this. Not if it meant having you killed, too.”
Devlin reached out and covered her hand. “Your aunt didn’t even know me.”
“No, she didn’t. But I wrote to her, and told her how much I love you.”
Pitts raised his chin. “I hate to break up this moment we got going here, but I think I see our little major headed this way.”
They turned and watched Martinez weave his way through the dancers. As he reached the table, he placed a
