“Not altogether true, Israel. What about the grocer and his gay friend?”
“Castro’s spies. There is no doubt.”
“They caused problems.”
“And they were dealt with. But these two-”
“These two are here, under our control, and we can now get rid of them.”
Only two voices speaking and one of them was Carlos.
“Maybe there is another alternative.”
It was Vic.
“Maybe we can keep them tied up here in the office. Jesus is staying here and he could keep an eye on them until our operation begins.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Finally, Carlos spoke. “Keep an eye on them? What the fuck are they, children to be watched? Listen, Victor, we talked about collateral damage. People will die. Some innocent, some not. It will happen. It’s a necessary part of war. Are you losing your courage?”
“I was born with more courage than you’ll have in a lifetime!” There was venom in Victor’s voice.
“Then show some. Here is my pistol. Shoot them both, and we’ll throw their bodies in the water. Casualties of war, Victor. Here, take it.”
It was time to open my eyes. I wanted to have some say in the matter.
“Vic.”
He looked down at me. The same good looks, dark skin and eyes, and big hands, one of them wrapped around a pistol. There seemed to be five healthy fingers on each one. “Hey, Skip.”
Carlos stood in the doorway, smirking. A third man watched with wide eyes and an unhealthy grin plastered on his face. He seemed to be eagerly awaiting my demise.
“Vic, I’m really glad to see you have all your fingers.” Vic’s fingers. One of the main reasons I was in this predicament.
He gave me a vague smile. “Yeah. That was never for your benefit.”
“Jackie?”
“Jackie. She was supposed to open the envelope, realize my father was being blackmailed, and stay out of the way for a while.”
“But she never opened the envelope. I did.”
“I’m truly sorry you got involved. Ironic isn’t it?”
I ignored the comment. “But, whose finger was it?”
He glanced at Carlos, who was leaning against the door frame, amused at the story Vic was telling.
“There was a Cuban grocer and his significant other who stumbled onto our little plan. We took them to the Cuban Social Club and-”
“We talked to them.” Carlos laughed. “And then we cut off the finger of one of the men when they refused to tell us what we wanted to know. He squealed like a baby.”
The third man spoke. “But they told us everything. They were reporting back to Cuba about our plans for invasion. It’s very simple really. You just remove body parts to get a full confession.”
I was trying to put it all together. “You decided to send the finger-”
“And Victor’s class ring.”
“The finger and the ring to Jackie?”
Vic nodded. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
James was wheezing, his chest almost jerking with every breath he took.
“Vic, James doesn’t sound good. He could use a doctor.”
I saw the indecision in his eyes. He glanced at Carlos, then to James, and back to me, and sighed.
“Saving someone’s life once in a lifetime should be enough. It should be more than enough.”
I didn’t mention that he’d saved my life again by stopping the guard from strangling me.
Vic pointed the pistol at James, held the pose for a moment, then swung the barrel so it was aimed directly at my head. He cocked the hammer and a chill went down my back and I shivered in the stifling heat of the office.
Then he turned and handed the pistol back to Carlos. “I am responsible for this man’s life. While I may not save it again, I cannot take it. It has nothing to do with courage, but everything to do with the laws of life.”
Carlos stared at the pistol in his hand, then shrugged, released the hammer and stuck the handgun in his belt. I breathed a sigh of relief and said a silent prayer. I’m not a religious person, but sometimes you just feel that someone upstairs is watching out for you.
Carlos put a hand on Victor’s shoulder. “You think what you did was admirable. You would like to think everything you do is noble and well thought out. You are no better than the rest of us. You do this not just for Los Historicos. You do it for your own greed.”
Vic shoved his hand away and glowered at him. “I do this for the people of Cuba who beg for freedom.”
“And people will die. Innocent people will suffer. It’s like your explosives expert who made one small mistake on the bomb that was meant for Castro. It brought down the Cuban Social Club-killed the two spies and your bomb maker. You have already been responsible for lives, Victor, and the war has yet to begin.” Carlos spun around and walked out into the warehouse.
The third man, I guessed his name to be Israel, just stood there, giggling. Vic looked down at me, a scowl on his face. “Maybe there’s a lesson here. The life you save may come back to haunt you. Don’t haunt me, Skip. The greater good is that I am successful in this mission. Don’t stand in my way.”
I remembered the last person who had asked me to get the hell out of the way. Ricardo Fuentes, Vic’s father. Only he was asking me to step aside so his son could live. I wondered what Rick Fuentes would think now.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
“Truck’s here,” someone shouted from out in the main room. Truthfully, I’d had about enough of trucks. I could hear the overhead door rattle as it raised up, and the sound of a diesel engine as the truck pulled inside. The door closed and the choking smell of diesel exhaust filled the area.
James coughed.
I tried stretching my arms to see if there was any play with the rope. There was no feeling at all in my hands. I stretched again and thought maybe there was a slight easing of the tightness. Not enough to make a difference.
“Skip.”
I jumped.
“Skip?” James’ eyes were almost closed, droopy at best.
“James. Man, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Man, what’s happening?” His head still hung low, his chin resting on his chest.
“You took a pretty good beating.”
“You think I don’t know?”
“James, I tried to get out. Took two of them out with my pitching arm and a couple of oil cans, but they stopped me.”
He was quiet for a moment, still drawing short, raspy breaths. “You’re gonna have to pay for that oil, pard.”
“Vic is here. Alive.”
“No shit. They’ve got him too?”
“No. He’s got us. He’s one of them, Vic and all of his ten fingers.” I filled him in on the rest of the story. Half way through my CliffsNotes version his eyes closed and I thought I’d lost him. “James?”
“Yeah. I’m listening. Trying to block out the pain.”
When I finished, he lifted his head, looking at me with one eye open. “They were going to kill us?”
“Oh, I think they intend to kill us even now. But they’re loading the truck at the moment, and we’re not high priority.”
