John Matthews - Ascension Day

Quickly realizing that he was out of his depth, he handed over to his Captain, Sebastian Moragues, who’d started looking over inquisitively as he’d repeated segments for clarification.

New Orleans. Suspected false identity. Cubana flight from Nassau . Moragues’ inquisitive frown deepened as the request was repeated.

‘So, let me get this clear. This Mr Ayliss arriving soon — you suspect that it might be someone else posing as him? False identity?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And do you have an official arrest warrant your end for that?’

Brief pause, conferring the other end. ‘No… no we don’t. It’s just a suspicion at this stage. Though a very strong one.’

‘And based just on this suspicion … you want us to stop and detain him?’ Moragues was old school Castro, and for them the unwritten rule book was clear: no favours for Americans, because they’ve done none for us the past forty years. So unless it posed a threat to Cuban national security or involved drug-trafficking, which Cuba was keen to keep itself free of, Moragues was going to take a lot of convincing. And with not even the right paperwork in place their end? Madre de Putas !

Heavier conferring at the other end, Moragues shaking his head with a wry smile towards Ruiz. Americanos !

In New Orleans, Derminget had become increasingly frustrated with the three-way conversation. A young sergeant, Tony Salva, had stepped up to the plate for the call. His family had left Puerto Rico when he was fifteen, and his Spanish, he’d explained to Derminget, was still ‘seventy per cent there .’

‘You tell that stiff-head in Cuba,’ Derminget barked at Salva, one hand stabbing for emphasis, ‘that the guy we believe is posing as Ayliss is actually wanted for murder. And that, we do have a fucking warrant for!’

‘I see. Murder. That is more serious,’ Moragues commented as the translation came over, his smile still there from hearing Derminget’s agitation in the background. ‘But this suspected connection between these two men. Have you taken that before a judge with some sort of proof to get an arrest warrant?’

Heavier background shouting from the other end, almost screaming at one point. Moragues held the receiver a few inches away from his ear, shrugging towards Ruiz before he brought it back again for the translation.

‘No… we haven’t got that particular warrant yet.’

‘Then I would kindly suggest that when you do have that… that would be the time to be troubling us here in Havana. Otherwise we could both find ourselves in an unfortunate mess if it turns out to be a false detention.’ Not good for tourism: complaints about foreign nationals being unnecessarily detained at Havana airport!

The background commotion hit fever pitch this time, with a fair few expletives — the only words in fact that Moragues understood. His smile widened. He couldn’t wait for the translation.

‘My… my boss hears what you say. But he’s still insistent that you stop Mr Ayliss when he arrives at Havana airport in half an hour’s time. In fact — as one recognized police authority to another — he demands it.’

‘He does now, does he?’ Moragues gently licked his top lip. ‘Well, you tell your Jefe from me that he can take his demand and, along with the trade embargoes of the past forty years and the exploding cigar the CIA sent to our dear Fidel — stick it in his culo !’

At the other end, Derminget’s nerves had all but snapped; and as he saw Salva’s face redden as he listened to something more lengthy, he started screaming, ‘What’s he saying! What’s he fucking saying?’

Salva looked up finally as he reached to put the phone down. ‘He says he doesn’t think he can help.’

Last shower… last time he’d feel water against his body . It felt strange, unreal; the same as it did accepting that seeing Fran and Josh earlier that day had been for the last time. And tomorrow, last meal, last time food would touch his lips, then …

Even though he’d had eleven long years to get used to it happening, now the time was finally here, it felt odd, surreal; and so now the only way he could accept it was to numb himself to it, switch off a part of himself. Like one of those machines or computers on sleep-mode. Brain half-switched off, body… soul .

But as part of him switched off, another suddenly became more attuned. He could hear things in the prison he hadn’t heard before: beyond the steady background thrum of its boilers, a faint clicking as pipes contracted; distant voices through the ceiling grill, echoing along the ventilation shaft from guards or prisoners talking; and earlier that night, a steady breeze rustling through the trees outside, and, as it drifted a certain way, some music carrying on it. He’d been told that the protestors beyond the gates were playing music, but hadn’t heard it until that moment.

And now as he felt the water running down his skin, memories that he thought had long ago faded: bathing Joshua as a baby, feeling the water slide like velvet against his soft skin, Josh’s eyes bright and dancing as he looked back up at him, giggling… Fran and himself on the beach one day when they’d gone along the coast to Gulfport, the year before Josh was born, Fran splashing him as she ran in the shallows, and he splashing her back, her looking so bright-eyed and beautiful … so beautiful…

The images now so real that he fancied he could still taste the salt in the water as some of it splashed on his face… before realizing that it was his own tears as they’d touched his lips.

I was only dreaming …

He’d faded out the foreground, there was just the background left; maybe what he should have done all along in Libreville. Faded out the heavy clump of the guards’ boots along the walkways, their shouts and taunts, the night-time weeping of other prisoners, the cacophony of voices now in the showers… faded it all out until there was nothing left but him and Fran and Josh together again, smiling and hugging each other as if the eleven years in between hadn’t really happened… just a dream …

Larry jolted sharply, as if he had suddenly awoken. Cacophony of voices ! They had faded, it wasn’t just in his head. It was suddenly quieter in the showers. Roddy !

Larry leapt out and looked towards Roddy. Since the attack three weeks back, he’d made sure to shower at the same time as Roddy every night. He’d said his last goodbyes to Sal, Roddy, BC and Theo just before, then had headed to the showers with Roddy. Last night of protection, BC saying he’d cover Roddy’s back as best he could after Larry was gone.

And so Larry was slightly confused as he saw Tally Shavell emerge through the steam, with Jay-T moving in a few paces behind himself, and Silass to one side. Why didn’t they just wait a day when Roddy would be more vulnerable?

Then, as he saw the focus and intent in their eyes and their angle of movement, he realized that they were moving in on himself! Though it didn’t compute quickly enough given the odd timing, Jay-T taking the last two steps to grip him from behind as the shiv appeared in Tally’s hand and he lunged for Larry.

Larry swung back in reflex with an elbow at Jay-T, twisting his body away at the same time. He managed to shift his abdomen eight inches, but still the shiv caught him on one side, slicing through the soft flesh just above his hip-bone.

Tally pulled back and thrust swiftly again for mid-stomach, but Larry’s second elbow swing caught Jay-T directly in the wind-pipe, and he managed to jerk free and completely side-step Tally’s second lunge as Jay-T fell away, choking. Tally went then for a scything sweep, Larry jumping back clear of it and shifting round so that Silass couldn’t get to him easily, would have had to move through Tally’s path. Roddy had sidled around the back of them, and now, seeing that Larry was more in control, darted off to alert the guards.