“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I told her, oozing benignity. “Not if you cooperate.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Tell us what we want to know. Work for us instead of them.”
“You mean defect?” For the first time there was real fear in Ophelia’s eyes. “I can’t. They’ll kill me. No matter where I go, they’ll hunt me down and kill me.”
“Then don’t defect. Stay with them. Only, work for us.”
“You mean be a double-agent?”
“Yes. But remember whose side you’re really on.”
“But would you trust me if I did that? Would the CIA trust me?”
“No,” I told her honestly. “But you might be used to advantage. I think we’d take the chance if you cooperated.”
“All right. What do you want?”
“First of all, how did you know who I was? How did you know I was coming? How much do they know about what I’m after?”
“The word came from Tokyo by radio. A Chinese Commie agent there was on your tail from the time you got to Tokyo. It seems you’ve crossed swords with the Red Chinese before.”
I nodded. I had. It was an espionage battle between us that had brought me to Toyko in the first place. But that was a closed case. One the Chinese won, too. It had never occurred to me that they’d keep me under surveillance when it was over. Now it seemed that I should have figured it. “Go on,” I told Ophelia.
“They followed you from the embassy to the airport. When you got on the plane, they managed to slip a little device under one of the wings before you took off. This sent out a high frequency signal that made it a snap to follow the plane’s course by radar. We knew before you landed that you’d be coming to us.”
“Do they know why I’m here?”
“I’m not sure. But they know part of the reason, anyway. They know it has to do with the Cuban resistance leader who was murdered. And they know you’re looking for an English agent named Victoria Winters.”
“Why did they kill the Cuban?”
“I don’t know why. I only know that I was the bait. They told me to give him a big play and I did as I was told. Then one night they grabbed him coming out of my apartment and the next thing I knew he turned up dead. Oh, but I do know that there was hell to pay about that, incidentally. The trigger-men who got him were knocked off later for bungling the job. It seems his corpse wasn’t supposed to turn up at all. But the Miami cops spotted them in the act of trying to ditch it and they chickened out and ran before they could get rid of it.”
That made sense. It tied in with what Putnam had told me about the corpse being evidence that this new secret weapon—whatever the hell it was—figured in with the Cuban’s death. It confirmed the fact that the ex-Nazi inventor had been in Miami. And that meant that Victoria Winters must have been here, too.
“What about Vickie Winters?” I asked Ophelia.
“The English redhead with the basketball bosom?”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Sure. The same night they knocked off the Cuban, they picked her up. They had her in the back room of the Naked Grotto. The same room you were in.”
“What did they do to her?”
“Tried to make her talk—just like I did you. But she wouldn’t.”
“Just what was it that they wanted to know?”
“That’s what’s so peculiar about it,” Ophelia mused. “Nobody seems to know. They wanted information from her. And they wanted information from you. But the truth is I don’t really think they know what they’re looking for.”
That figured, too. Evidently they were in the same boat that I was. Unless Vickie had found out something and they’d managed to make her spill it. “What did they do with her?” I asked Ophelia.
“They smuggled her onto a small boat and took her to Cuba.”
“Is she still there?”
“As far as I know.”
“Did they grab anybody with her? Or at the same time?” I was thinking of the mysterious German.
“No. They seemed to be looking for somebody, but they didn’t know who it was. That was one of the things they kept trying to find out from the Winters chick.”
“Anything else you can tell me?”
“I can’t think of anyth—” Ophelia was interrupted by a low rap at the door.
Carrera answered it. A tanned man in a white Palm Beach suit entered. He had the lantern jaw of a business executive who’s worked his way up to the top, the shrewd blue eyes of an accountant behind rimless glasses, and the phony smile of an ad agency account executive. I didn’t much like him. I was going to like him a lot less. “Victor?” he greeted me. “I’m Dawes of the CIA. I’m in charge around here. I understand you have information for me.”
“You understand wrong,” I told him curtly.
“Weren’t you told to report to me?”
“Nope. And I’ve got nothing to report, anyway.”
“Then what are you doing here?” His voice was crisp; the smile was gone.
“Staying alive. Thanks to Pedro over there. Just staying alive.”
“You are one of our agents, aren’t you?”
“The CIA’s? Nope. I never got the call. Dulles7 must have been busy looking at fallen sparrows and overlooked me.”
“That’s not funny, Victor! I was told you’re on some mission for our government. And you’re in my area. That makes you responsible to me.”
“The hell it does. If I were you, I’d check Washington.”
“I’m going to do just that. And right now.” He marched into the other room and closed the door behind him.
“Pleasant fellow,” I observed.
“He doesn’t like his job,” Carrera told me. “He doesn’t like Cubans, no matter which side of the fight they’re on.”
“Then why don’t you complain? Hell, he’s the fellow you have to work with. Complain to Washington.”
“No.” Carrera shook his head. “You see, Senor Victor, he’s good at his job. I don’t care whether he likes me or my people or not. Just as long as he does what has to be done. And he does.”
Dawes emerged from the other room, subdued, but barely managing to conceal the anger inside him. “All right, Victor, you win. Damn gall bringing in an outside agent without consulting me. But my orders are to ask no questions and cooperate with you in any way you want. Okay, that’s it. Now what the hell do you want?”
“Transportation to Cuba. Immediately. Contacts there. I guess Mr. Carrera can provide me with those.”
“All right. Tonight. As soon as it gets dark. We’ll take you over by power launch and land you on the island.”
“Fine. Just so long as you don’t land me at the Bay of Pigs8 .” I couldn’t resist the dig.
The CIA man caught it and winced. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you ashore safely,” he told me icily.
“Senor Victor, I have a suggestion,” Carrera said. “Take Pedro here with you. He knows the terrain like the back of his hand. Also he knows our people. He will be able to simplify matters for you.”
“That’s fine with me if Pedro doesn’t mind missing a few jai alai games.”
“My public will not forget me,” Pedro assured me. “I will be glad to go with you.”
“Good.” I turned to Ophelia. “Just how close is the espionage tie between the Cubans and the Chinese Reds?” I asked her.
“Close. But there is also a certain amount of friction. Even Castro’s Cubans put Cuba first and world communism second. They know that both the Chinese and the Russians would be quick to sacrifice Cuba if it would serve some advantage. And they’ll double-cross the Chinese if they’ve got something to gain. It’s a game. They work together until they hit the point where they’re playing cloak and dagger behind each other’s backs. Right now, the Castro boys are convinced the Chinese know more about the Vickie Winters case than they do. So they go along with the Chinese -- but mostly because they’re trying to find out what they’re up to.”