Randy White - North of Havana

But I couldn't. I had to stay on the seaward side of the island. Had to run down the beach an approximate distance, anchor, then hike across the island to the bay. All because Geis had said Taino might have brought guards to patrol the place-the Abakua. Said if they saw us, they would kill us. Which he still hadn't explained.

I had asked, "Is it because you expect Castro to be there?" I'd been anticipating that. Would a paranoiac trust someone so like himself to deliver a thing of great value?

Geis's reply was not an answer: "The Abakua? Fidel's their main competition in the crime business. They hate the man; would love to take him apart one piece at a time. If they're there, it's not to protect Fidel."

Now, closing on the beach, I told Geis, "Dig through that mess in the bow and see if you can find a couple of anchors."

Geis had been watching the shoreline; watching me work our way through the shoals. On his feet now and moving, he said, "Ford-I'm impressed, I've got to tell you. The way you handle these waters, it's as if you'd been here before."

Cayo de Soto was a black thing elevated; a dinosaur shape afloat. No lights showing: beach… dark trees… wind. It might have been Sanibel at the time of the Spanish conquest. It might have been a thousand years before. Cut the electrical umbilical and the eyes are quick to readjust to primal light.

I said, "In a way, I have."

I was looking to the northwest at a blazing white star…

More likely, a planet. Venus…? Maybe Jupiter-a solitary ball that flamed above a moonless sea.

I was crouched on a sand dune among bushes wondering if the damn thing, all by itself, provided too much backlight to cross the beach unseen. It seemed out of place in terms of my amateur's knowledge of astronomy.

Or maybe a plane with its landing lights triggered, too far out to be heard.

Yes, it had to be a plane…

Geis was beside me. He had the black balaclava hood on; back in tactical uniform. Automatic rifle, his field satchel, webbed belt. Ready for business-although he had made it clear he thought we were wasting our time on Cayo de Soto. Now he had the thermal scope monocular to his eye, scanning the area. Looked to the east. Whispered, "Look what you found us-couple of raccoons… a dog, maybe. Nice work, Ford."

Probably out scavenging turtle eggs.

I waited while Geis scanned the casuarina forest ahead of us. Heard him say, "All clear there. Lots and lots of cold-blooded pine trees." Next the thread of beach that stretched westward. That took longer. He looked through the scope, looked with both eyes, then used the scope again. Finally, he said, "Well, well, well… we've got company. One man, I think. About a hundred meters out. Must have been in the woods because I didn't pick him up right away."

I raised my head enough to see down the beach: a lone figure on the pale sand. He seemed to be coming pretty fast.

"Is there a village on this island?"

"Probably. But… maybe not, too. One of these islands, maybe it was this one, it used to be a leper colony. Back when they needed them fifty, sixty years ago. I can't remember the name."

It was the first I'd heard of that.

Geis had put the monocular away, now was unslinging his rifle. "I think this guy saw our boat. Wants to check us out."

I put a warning hand on his arm. "You're not going to shoot him."

"Give me some credit. That would make too much noise." As if that were the only consideration. Ironically, on the boat trip to Cayo Parafso, he had told me, "The greatest thing about working in Cuba? It's a place that never requires a silencer. Honest work, just as I told you." Now maybe he was rethinking it. I didn't react for a mo: ment when he said, "Mind if I give a few orders now thai we're on land?"

Finally: "I'm open to suggestions."

"What I'm going to do is slide over to the other side of this dune and away a little bit. Spread us out some. If he gets too close to you, I'll take him. You do the same."

He was belly-crawling over the dune before I could answer.

I watched the man on the beach come closer. He was dressed in white-not a good sign. The Santeros, they seemed to favor white. When he was abreast of me, I also saw that he carried something in his hand. There was starlight on the water, and when he turned just right I saw that it was a long, curved cane knife. He was tapping the flat part of the blade on his leg as he stopped and stared at the fishing smack-a dim shape bucking on the slow rollers. I thought he might produce a flashlight and search the boat… but no, in Cuba flashlights were probably only slightly less rare than flashlight batteries. Then he turned and looked in my direction.

I pressed tight to the sand dune, my eyes on him. He stood there; seemed to be staring back at me. Was I visible in my khaki cargo pants and dark blue polo shirt? He took a few steps toward me… hesitated. Took a few more… then began to angle away to my right.

It was the direction in which Geis had gone.

I raised my head just enough to see what it was that had caught the man's attention: a gray shape on the next dune.

Was it Geis?

Saw something tiny and bright reflecting light. The lens of the thermal monocular, probably.

Damn it.

Yes… it was Geis.

The man with the cane knife was walking slowly toward him. I got my hands under me, ready to push up and move. I expected Geis to react, but he didn't. I hoped he would react; take care of it himself. But no, he lay motionless as he was approached.

Didn't he realize that he had been seen?

The man was closing-no doubt about it now-only twenty yards or so away, and I was up, crouched… I began to move toward the man, not really sure what I would do. The. 45 Browning was wedged into the back of my belt, and I drew it as I started toward him. Maybe tackle and club him. I thought: Tackle a guy carrying a machete?

The man was moving faster now… stopped abruptly- had he noticed me? No, more like he had confirmed something. I heard him give a loud yell-a war scream-as he raised the cane knife over his head and began to run toward Geis, who still had not reacted.

I hadn't expected the man to run. The surprise of it froze me for a moment; just long enough so that now there was no way I could intercept him. Even so, I was sprinting heavily over the sand, shortening the distance, the man with the knife so focused on Geis that he didn't hear me… so I shouted, "HOLD IT!" to get his attention… which caused the man to slow slightly, the machete still raised… and I had the Browning up, pointing it at him as he began to swing downward at Geis, who finally, finally was reacting.

My finger was on the trigger but wouldn't move, then I removed it from the trigger as I watched the bear shape of Geis collide with the man, knocking him backwards… then the two of them were on the ground, rolling, swinging their arms… now one was atop the other using only one hand… drew his arm back, hammered it into the man on the bottom; hammered again; hammered once… twice… and stopped. Then I watched one of them get slowly to his feet as the other man lay still.

I'd stopped running. Still had the Browning pointed. "Lenny?"

Heard a winded growl: "Who the fuck you expect?" Then heard, "What an idiot, huh? You timed that pretty good. Thought I was going to have to shoot him."

He was kneeling now, wiping something in the brush. Then he returned to the dune on which he'd been lying and found the automatic rifle. He had his hand over the halogen sight light when he switched it on so that only a muted beam came through. He said, "This son-of-a-bitch was going to cut me in half. I'm lying there thinking: Where's Ford? Turns out you're not stupid. Only shoot when you have to."