Cliff Ryder - The Powers That Be

The trip of about two hundred miles would take over three hours in the old vehicle, which Lopez was unwilling to push above about fifty-five miles per hour. They were going to be cutting it close as it was, and this wasn’t going to help matters. After Damason had been treated like a pack mule by that arrogant blond mercenary, he had been escorted back to his own boat with a minimum of conversation, save a warning to be sure to launch the flare once the assassination was completed. “And if you fail, you might as well turn that rifle on yourself,” Theodore had told him matter-of- factly. “As I understand it, it would probably be quicker than going through what you’d endure in your own prisons.”

“I will do my part. Just make sure that your men are ready on your end,” Damason had replied.

Once on his boat, they had sped back to the dock, and then through the quiet streets to Damason’s headquarters. There he had collected the carefully wrapped rifle and left instructions for the men who were to handle things in his stead while he was away. He also left an itinerary of his trip that would be completely void if the next seven hours went according to plan.

But as hard as he tried to focus on his approaching task, Damason couldn’t get the face of the European arms dealer out of his mind. It was like he knew me from somewhere, he mused. Which is impossible, of course. Still, I would have liked to know what was going through his mind at that moment.And yet, for some reason, he also looked familiar to me.

Sergeant Lopez, who had been very quiet all during the boat trip back, as well as the ride out of the city, cleared his throat. “Is there anything you’d like to go over regarding our mission while we have the chance?”

Damason turned to his subordinate, grateful for the interruption of his troubling thoughts. “Yes.” He unfolded a satellite map of the sugar mill and spread it out on his lap.

“Raul will be touring the sugar mill that has been converted to producing alcohol from cane juice. Of course, security will be posted around the building, as well as in the perimeter. I have placed Gonzago here.” He tapped a large cluster of trees that would give anyone in them an unobstructed view of the front of the large processing buildings. “I have manufactured evidence of his involvement with the CANF

exile group, and will denounce him as a traitor to the revolution, should the operation go wrong. I will maintain my story of having discovered the assassination plot and trying to stop him before he could attempt it. Either way, you will be backing me up, both as a rear guard and a witness, to confirm my story.”

“And afterward?”

“All I know is that outside forces are poised to land on the island once they’ve received confirmation that our target is truly dead. My contact has told me that there are other people in the armed forces who will join this revolution, but we have been kept out of communication with each other, so that if one cell was compromised, it wouldn’t lead to the capture of the others. They will block communications between loyalist units and also keep the local militias pacified so that they will not rise up and fight us. The paramilitary forces will strike near Havana and move to seize the capitol building. Once we have that, we can establish the military junta until a new government that is truly of the people can be created.”

At least, that is what is supposed to happen, Damason thought. He knew there were hundreds of things that could go wrong, and each one could have a snowball effect on the entire process. But regardless of the final result, he believed the one thing that must happen to bring any change was the removal of one of the men who claimed to have brought it to the people all those decades ago. Damason might not get his shot at the real head of the Communist snake, but assassinating his brother might accomplish the same result, by removing Castro’s successor.

Damason kept repeating that simple goal as he stared out into the darkness, coming ever closer to the dawn of a new era for his country.

“He’s where?”

Kate winced and adjusted the sound on her earpiece.

Using a thermal-tracking satellite, she had been ghosting along with Jonas as he had infiltrated Castilo’s beachfront home. Although outwardly the picture of calm, her heart was in her throat when she was forced to watch, helpless, as Jonas went down as a flurry of gunshots sprayed through the air from a man in the bedroom doorway. When he turned the tables on that same person seconds later, the three cyberjocks cheered and pumped their fists in the air. They all saw him take out the two other men and exit the house, only to be waylaid by the speedboat on the ocean, which forced him overboard and destroyed his raft. Kate had then called Karen and informed her of his current location.

“Beta is fifty yards from the stern of the boat, so please let the rest of your team know to stand down—the last thing we want is a friendly-fire casualty. You might also want to have a couple of people there to assist him.”

“Affirmative,” Karen replied.

Kate heard the message go out, and tried not to tap her foot as she waited. She picked up her cup of jasmine tea and brought it to her lips, only to find that it had gone cold during Jonas’s snoop.

The cell phone’s sensitive microphone picked up running feet, and the authoritative timbre of Jonas’s voice as he snapped out orders. “Head to Cuba at top speed.”

She heard a rustling, and then Jonas came online. “This is Beta. The Miami contact is terminated. Repeat, the Miami contact is terminated.”

“What happened?” Kate asked.

“He had more guts than brains. He tried to tackle me on the way out, and was shot by his own security personnel.

Theodore got away, unfortunately. I left the site, but was attacked by a speedboat. I evaded them in the water until they left the area, then swam back to our yacht.”

Kate heard Karen’s voice in the background. “We’re heading due south at twenty-three knots. Did you know you’re bleeding?”

“Yes, it’s a graze. Please get some peroxide and bandages. You’ll have to put a temporary dressing on it. If you can, seal it against water, too.”

“How about I just simply heal you completely while I’m at it?” Karen said.

Kate heard an indrawn hiss of breath. “Beta?”

“I’m here. The important thing is that the incursion into Paradise is supposed to happen later this morning—

apparently they’ve been waiting for an event that would bring one of the Castros out of the capital city, and it’s happening as we speak. Valdes is the catalyst—he’s going to try to kill Raul Castro later this morning. We’re heading down there at top speed, so if Alpha isn’t moving, he needs to get his ass in gear and meet me so we can stop this. Do you have a fix on Damason’s position?”

Kate relayed the question to the cyberjocks, who put a large map of Cuba up on the big screen. “Signal is weak but steady. Currently he’s traveling due east, on the A1 highway through the Matanzas province. Possible destinations include the airport at Santa Clara, or the city of Sancti Spiritus, both in the adjacent province of Villa Clara.”

“Both good guesses, but right now, that’s all they are.”

Jonas ticked off numbers on his hand. “It’s going to take us probably two and a half to three hours to get down there, and that’s assuming Alpha acquired a fast enough boat to get us back ashore in time. Put up a map of Villa Clara Province, particularly the north shore.”

Kate did so, zooming in on the coastline of the Cuban province, and as she did, it also appeared on a monitor on the yacht. Jonas grunted with satisfaction. “At least there’s plenty of small islands to hide in and around—that should cut down on the chances of the border patrol finding us.”