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.”
We could hear the sound of the forklift sliding under the boxes, then loading them into the truck.
“So if everyone is busy with the truck, now would be a good time to escape.” James even managed a weak smile.
“I agree. Let’s get out while we can.”
No plans, no chance of any escape.
“I think they may have cracked some ribs. My right side aches and when I breath it feels like something’s sticking me.”
“Man, I wish there was something I could have done.”
“You tried, amigo.”
I hadn’t heard them approach, but someone was turning the door handle. They shoved open the door and stepped inside and I got a glimpse of a shoe before I raised my head to see the rest. Heavy wax coating on a black shoe. I looked up. Buzz cut and open-collar shirt. Krueger from the CIA.
“Jesus, am I glad to see you.”
He smiled. “Told you boys to mind your own business. Remember I said it might come to this?”
I smiled back. “I should have listened. Mr. Krueger, I can’t tell you how glad I am. I believe James and I are on a list to be shot in the not too distant future.”
He laughed out loud. “Yes, I believe you are.” Someone walked in behind him wearing a shoulder holster with a wooden handled revolver inside. “Mr. Moore, Mr. Lessor, let me introduce you to Mark Spense. Mark’s with the Agency as well.”
“Thank God. Listen. James is in pretty bad shape. They beat him up and he thinks he may have some internal injuries. Can we get these ropes off and get some medical attention?”
Krueger laughed again. A jovial guy. “Mr. Moore, I’m afraid you’re mistaken about my reason for being here. Actually, there are several reasons, but right now my primary business is to attend to your death. And you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
I wondered if my old man would ever find out that I’d been killed. Collateral damage. My mom and sister would be busted up, but my dad? He might shrug his shoulders, but you can’t miss something you don’t claim as yours. And James’s dad? Now, like his father, James was never going to amount to much in the world of business, and he certainly wasn’t going to be driving that new Cadillac.
“Mark, get ’em on their feet, and bring in their friend.”
My heart jumped into my mouth. Jesus, they couldn’t have Em. Oh, Jesus Christ, please, not Em.
Jackie Fuentes walked into the sweltering office, a quirky smile on her face. “Hi, boys.”
James raised his head gingerly. I watched Jackie flinch when she saw the damage done to his face. James wasn’t so cute anymore.
“So you’re in on this too?”
“Not so you’d notice.” Mark Spense followed, the gun out of his holster and pointed at Jackie’s back. He pulled me up with his free hand, then eyed James. There was no way James could stand on his own. “You two,” he motioned to Jackie and me, “pick him up. We’re taking a little stroll across the street to the water.” Agent Spense untied my hands and I worked the circulation back into them. Then he untied James’s hands.
For the first time I saw panic register on Jackie’s pretty face. “They’re really going to kill us, aren’t they?”
“We are, little lady. We are.”
I gently took James under one arm and Jackie lifted the other.
“I don’t care if you have to drag him, we’re going outside.”
I stared hard at Krueger. “Before we go, tell me one thing.”
“Oh, Jesus. This is just like the fucking movies. ‘Please, tell me how all this happened before you kill me.’”
“This isn’t the movies. It’s my last request. I just want to know. Is Victor in charge of this little band of malcontents?”
“No. Now shut the fuck up and move.”
“One more question?”
“Move.”
“Are you and your partner really with the CIA?”
Krueger had pulled out his gun and was waving it at me.
“Yes? No?”
“Yes. Get moving.”
James grunted as we helped him stand, but he was able to put one foot in front of the other.
We entered the main area and I could see the large box truck being loaded with the crates of guns and ammunition. The yellow forklift was working off one of the pallets about half way down the wall. Carlos was driving the lift and Vic and Israel were inside the truck helping load the boxes. Juan, his arm in a cast, stood off to the side. All things considered, I figured he would rather be helping. A handful of workers were busy with other projects, two of them carrying the metal canisters that I’d hid behind the other night.
We were herded to the side door and into the parking lot.
“Chains and blocks are across the street. May as well put them on over there.” Mark Spense nodded to Krueger.
“Keep moving.”
“James, if it comes down to it, know that I loved you like a brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
James grunted. We were pretty much dragging him now. He couldn’t move on his own.
“Skip, James, I’m sorry about all of this. I never meant to get anyone else involved. Really.” Jackie’s voice quivered.
Krueger pushed the barrel of his gun into my back. We crossed the street and stood by a crumbling three-foot high cement barrier that ran along the water as far as I could see in the murky shadows.