Randy White - North of Havana

The lieutenant was standing in the doorway of the office, still holding the telephone. He put his hand over the mouthpiece as he said, "My captain says that we can give you fifteen liters of gasoline, but only if you promise to have your department send us a letter of requisition."

"As soon as I get back to Havana," Geis said. He gave me a private wink as he added, "You have my word on that."

"But there may be a problem. The man with you-is he an American? My captain says that the police have been directed to find and detain a large American man who fits the description of your prisoner. It came in the bulletins this morning. Apparently he damaged his room at the Havana Libre and left without paying his bill."

Geis had crossed the floating dock and was now going up the steps toward the office. "Is your captain a complete idiot? Tell him not to worry about it. This man was with me last night, he didn't damage anything."

The lieutenant said something into the phone, then put his hand over the mouthpiece again. Thought about it a moment, his expression changing, before he said,"My captain asks how do you know the damage occurred last night?"

Geis was still walking toward him. The three guardsmen were moving, too; spreading out a little, sensing trouble. They kept moving as Geis said, "The man's already my prisoner. What the hell difference does it make when he damaged anything? Just get my goddamn gasoline so I can get out of here!" I noticed that Geis had changed his grip on the automatic rifle; had his hand on the trigger guard, the weapon still upside down and slung over his shoulder, but the barrel slightly higher now. A very subtle change. I thought: Jesus.

I watched the lieutenant say something into the phone, disappearing into the office as he did. Then he reappeared a few seconds later, his right hand pulling the. 45 from its holster, crouching, his dark eyes very bright… and Geis shot him with a three-round burst without seeming to move the rifle, the lieutenant's chest fluttering with black star-bursts that launched him backwards into the room. I was still looking at the empty doorway as Geis continued to fire-down on one knee now-pivoting toward the three guardsmen whose bodies appeared momentarily electrified, one by one, as the rifle's ambit swept across them, arms and legs flailing as if attempting flight, each man frozen for a microsecond in a wasted posture of defense, small clouds of red mist lingering in the air as they were thrown across the platform… then one of the men attempted to crawl toward the water until Geis shot him with another burst. The other two men lay contorted, still; appeared as if they were liquefying in the heat, melting into the crimson cement.

"Shit-forgot about one little detail." Geis was standing now, talking to himself. I watched him sprint into the office, worried about something… then came out much more relaxed, unwrapping a fresh cigar. Tilted it into his mouth. Looked pleased. "It's okay. No cause for alarm. He'd already hung up the phone." He lit the cigar, then calmly took a fresh magazine from his satchel and punched it into the automatic rifle.

I thought: For a hotel bill?

At some time during the shooting, or maybe in the silence that followed, I had stepped from the boat to the dock. Had also ripped my wrists free of the rope. Couldn't remember doing it. Looked at Geis standing among the bodies. He was smoking, looking at the sky, looking at the water; his little vacation time. "You're insane. You really are, Geis. You're nuts."

He puffed on the cigar, gave me a private look. "Yeah, well, that's what they said about Charles Manson."

A joke?

He gave me a smile-of course it was a joke.

I knelt by one of the guardsmen and touched my fingers to his jugular. Dead. Heard Geis say, "Take their money, their weapons, anything else valuable you can find," as I moved to the next man, then the third. Felt a frail pulse… then nothing. I was almost glad. Tell Geis that one was still alive, and he'd walk over and finish the job.

I said, "I think you've already robbed them of enough," as I stepped into the office. The lieutenant was dead, too. All dead.

"Fine. I'll do it; damn right I will. Can you believe that asshole? Said I couldn't even use the phone. All over Cuba-hell, it was the same in Canada-you wait in some government line and the person you're waiting to see always ends up being the same sort of jerk. The lieutenant, but with a different face." Listened to him say, "Every fucking country I've been in, that's the kind of asshole who screws up the works. Government paper-shufflers. Things would go a lot smoother, be a lot more profitable, if they just left it to people like you and me. People who can get things done."

I was standing, looking up the dirt road that wound into the rain forest. There was a donkey tied in the shade of a mango tree, a couple of bicycles, and a rusted Lada painted military green. No one else around. The harbor was quiet, no activity, but a couple of boats out on the Gulf Stream. A sportfisherman trolling-had to be out of Marina Hemingway-and an oil tanker several miles out.

I said, "How are you going to explain this?"

Geis was collecting the side arms and ammunition in a pile. Money and cigars, he put in his pocket. Turned to me and said, "You know how much they had between them? Three dollars U.S., plus some bullshit Cuban pesos that no one. even bothers using anymore."

"These men are going to be relieved in a few hours. Tomorrow morning at the latest. How are you going to lie your way out of this one?"

He had gone from man to man, very quick and meticulous; also collected his wasted shell casings. "What do you mean lie? That's the great thing about my job. It's the only honest work around. If I've got a reason to do something, I do it. What? I'm supposed to stand there and let that idiot arrest you? I told him I was under direct orders of the Maximum Leader and he still gave me a hard time."

"You explain it to Castro and he makes everything okay."

"That's about the size of it. He's done it more than once. I'm involved with national security. That covers a lot of ground."

"Then get him on the phone. Tell him. Tell him we don't want every boat and plane in the country hunting for us, because that's what's going to happen if we don't take care of it right now."

Geis had the pistol belts over his arm, was carrying them down to the Zodiac. "I'd like to do that, Ford. I really would. But the thing is, the old man and I, we sort of had a falling-out about this Santena business. And I just don't want him to know I'm on the job."

Yeah, I was his cover; brought along to take the blame. No doubt about it now.

He said, "But that'll change come tonight or tomorrow when he sees that I was right and he was wrong. After that, everything will be official again. The old man's number-one guy. Until then, it's just you and me. We're on our own."

Because there was nothing else I could do, I went and found a couple of jerry cans and filled them with gas. When I got back to the dock, Geis was standing at the front wall of the building. In blood, he'd written one large number, one large letter: 8A.

Said to me, "There? That make you feel any better? Let them think the revolutionaries did it."

I started down the steps toward the Avon. Noticed that

Geis was staring at the patrol boat. Told him, "If you take that, you're going without me."

"It'd be a lot faster. A lot more comfortable, too."

Was he serious? No… Letting his playful side show; a man happy in his work. He said, "But I guess I should trust your superior aquatic skills. Hey-want to blow it up just for old times' sake?"

I was in the skiff, transferring fuel. If I pulled away and left him, would he shoot? Of course he would shoot.

He said, "I suppose you want to drive, too."