"Who'd you report to in the Information outfit?"
"Prufro. He was the only one at the number they'd left. I asked to speak with Dick or Bev, but he said they wouldn't be available for the rest of the night."
"Then we've solved the leak problem, haven't we?" I looked back at the car behind us. "He must have passed it on to the CP as soon as you hung up."
We turned off the highway onto an asphalt road. It ran inland a few hundred yards, then began to twist up the side of some steep hills, part of the Santa Monica Mountains. The canyon road ran along about halfway up the hills, thick woods above and below us. The edge of the road was guarded by a metal barricade set on posts, and beyond it was a drop of at least a hundred feet, sometimes more.
"I've been thinking about that. Prufro's the likely one, but he might have talked to someone else," Janie said. "We're coming to the place. Hang on." Fifty yards farther on she turned off the road onto a dirt track that wound up into the woods. It took a couple of curves and we were out of sight of the road. Behind us the car that had been following purred on past our turnoff. Janie backed up to the blacktop, headed us back to the beach area a couple of miles away.
"Hope you didn't lose them," I said. "Can't see anything back there. If they're with us, they're driving without lights."
"If that loses them, we couldn't have worked this anyway. We can't make it too easy."
"Right. Besides, they're supposed to know where we're going, aren't they? Wonder if they sent some people out ahead?" A quarter of a mile back toward the beach there was another dirt track, and we pulled off onto it, followed it steeply up the side of the hills, winding through the trees. "This must be hell in the rainy season," I said. "How would you get groceries up here?"
Janie didn't answer, being too busy trying to keep the car moving in the deep ruts. We rounded another turn, and the headlights showed a small white frame house painted over with mystic symbols and grotesque figures, a typical artist's hideaway. We pulled alongside a collapsing garage, and got out of the car quickly and walked around behind the house to wait.
You could just hear traffic noises from the canyon road below us, and a couple of cars wound their way along it slowly, headed away from the beach. A stupid bird who didn't know it was dark trilled out a song. "Quiet as hell," I whispered to Janie.
"Shh." She took my hand and we stood there, wondering what would happen next. We waited another couple of minutes, then the silence was shattered by a single shot. A couple of others rattled off, then a burst that was hard to count. Everything was quiet again.
"Well, something happened," I whispered. I took the Luger out of my belt and cocked it, thinking that it hadn't done me much real good in L.A., but it was comforting to have. Nothing happened below for a long time, and I got nervous, wondering what had gone wrong with Shearing's ambush. We might have trouble getting back out of there.
The back door of the frame house rattled slightly, and I pointed the gun in that general direction, although it didn't figure that anybody trying to sneak up on me would make that much noise. I kept listening behind me, too, just in case he was making noise for a distraction. I may not be too well trained at the counterspy bit, but I can get around in the woods, and I hear pretty good.
"Señor Crane?" a voice called. I didn't answer, and the door opened. Sam de la Torres shined a light on his face, snapped it off and walked away from the house. "All is well," he said softly.
"Good." I moved slightly so that he could see where I was. If he was as nervous as I was he might shoot first and worry later. I know I was in a mood like that. "How many did you bag?"
"Six." He strode easily over to us, his caution gone now. "Three down on the road just now, and three more who came here earlier looking for Dr. Hoorne. They thought they were very clever, these city men." He gave a wicked laugh. "Commandante Rubiro has experienced jungle warfare experts in his command. It was hardly an equal contest."
"That is correct, mi amigos," a voice said behind us. I hadn't heard a thing, and from the way de la Torres jumped he hadn't either. A short little guy, much smaller than Janie, came out of the shadows behind us chuckling softly. "Who are your friends, Samuel?"
"Permit me to introduce you. Major Rubiro, I have the honor to present Señor Paul Crane and Señorita Youngs. Señor Crane, el commandante Jesus Maria Emmanuel Rubiro y Castro."
"At your service," Rubiro said. "Shall we go inside? It is not comfortable out here." When Sam protested, Rubiro added. "It is safe. If anyone comes you will be warned. Besides, for the moment the road is blocked, it will be clear soon." He led us into the house, which was quite comfortably furnished in contrast to the decaying exterior. The rugs were worn but good quality, and everything was hospital clean. We went through the kitchen to a large room in the front of the house. The walls were paneled in oiled mahogany, with built-in cases. The joiner work on the cabinets along the other wall was perfect, but everything seemed to have been built in, handmade, not bought in a furniture store.
"Please be seated," Rubiro said pleasantly. "Brandy? Some sherry, perhaps, señorita? We are well stocked here. It is a pity we will have to abandon these quarters now, but it has been well worth it."
Outside it had been difficult to see his features, but when I looked at Rubiro in the light he had already put on a pair of dark glasses that covered the upper half of his face. "You are Major Rubiro?" I asked. "In what army?"
"My rank was given to me in the armed forces of the Republic of Cuba," he answered sadly. "But that was long ago. Please, what may I bring you?" Sam and I settled on brandy and Janie had sherry. Rubiro got them from a well-stocked bar built in to one corner of the room, then came to sit with us near the fireplace. It was a very pleasant room.
"You'll have to leave this now?" I asked.
"I am afraid so. It was an excellent place for our work tonight, I could be sure of nowhere else on such short notice, but there is a chance that the communists will have made a report of this location. I assure you it has been worth it." His smile was as deadly as a coral snake. "I thank you, Samuel de la Torres. You have given us enjoyable work tonight."
"Gracias. But we had nothing to do with it, of course. I could wish that you had not taken that so literally, I would have liked to see the men who came earlier. How long can you keep them missing before they are found?"
Rubiro shrugged. "Forever, if that suits your purpose. The channel is deep, and we have boats. Would you prefer it that way?"
"Yes." De la Torres sipped his brandy for a second, leaned back in enjoyment. Then a sour look came to his face. "We did not intend that you meet our friends here."
Rubiro nodded, flashed white teeth in his olive features. "But I had a strong desire to see the young people who were so important that your office finally gives us permission to do what should have been done long ago. I will not risk being insulted by asking what their mission is."
"You put that well," Sam laughed. "I can tell you this, do not entertain the idea of trying to follow up this night's work. You could get in the way of something important. You will not meet these people again."
"That is unfortunate. They have said little, but of course they would be charming company . . . ." He examined us again with blank eyes hidden by the dark glasses. He was definitely a little man, no more than five and a half feet, quite slender, but when we'd shaken hands he'd almost taken off a finger without trying. He was wearing a dapper little military mustache, and his smile showed clean bright teeth, but these weren't the things you noticed about him. There wasn't anything really physical to notice, but the man gave off an air of danger that was more deadly than anything I'd ever experienced with Shearing's people. When he mentioned communists the smile was still there, but with it came a curl to the lips that made me think of medieval torture chambers.
"Sam tells me you took three of them down by the road and three up here. Are they all dead?" I asked.
Rubiro shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. Certainly they will not survive
the experience." I saw Janie shudder slightly, then take out a cigarette and concentrate on lighting it. "You would not really care for the details, Señor Crane. To your way of thinking I am a barbarian. A useful barbarian, however."
I didn't know what to say. He'd about read my thoughts. "You were in Batista's army?" I asked.
Rubiro's smile got broader. "Yes. That, of course answers all questions about me and my men, does it not? You have learned your history of Cuba from the American news magazines, and it would never occur to you that some of those accounts might be mistaken, or even deliberate lies. All officers of Batista's army were without honor, torturers of women and children, devoid of courage and interested in nothing but power. As you are sure of that, I see no point in continuing the conversation."
"Well—OK, so I learned everything I know about Cuba before Castro from the U.S. press. What was it really like? The torture chambers were there, we saw pictures of them . . . ."
"Yes. You ask what was it like? What is it like anywhere that the communists wish to take over? Assassinations, murders, torture of prisoners, kidnapping of the wives of soldiers . . . but all your papers could find was the corruption of the government. I give you the corruptions, Señor Crane. There was much of it, although how much was ours and how much imported by your gangsters who owned the casinos in Havana would be worth discussing. But with all our corruption, which seems to fascinate the American journalists, do you seriously believe that my people would not willingly trade Fidel and his murderers for a return of the casinos and prostitutes?" He looked at his watch. "But we have no more time. My people have taken the prisoners and the dead away from here, and it is safe for you to leave. My best regards to your superiors, Samuel. Tell them that I wait in future to do their work for them, when they find nerve to do what must be done. Hasta la vista, mi amigos. And go with God. For those as soft as you, He is your only protection."
We left him standing in the paneled room, his brandy held carefully between his hands. On the wall behind him was a big Cuban flag and some pictures of his graduation from military school.
Chapter Twelve
De la Torres stayed to confer with Rubiro's troops, and we drove on since we weren't supposed to be seen by them. After meeting Rubiro, I wasn't worried about anyone he trusted giving us away, but there was no point in spreading our identities around all the same.
The drive was clear, and we turned off the canyon road, headed for the beach. "Simple enough," I muttered. "I keep telling myself it's war."
"It is war," Janie said. "You'd better change rule-books, Paul. At least you can meet people now without having to worry about getting killed afterwards. I'd think you'd be glad."
"I am." I was thinking about Jordan. He'd seemed to be such a harmless little guy with his stories of government harassment which I'd thought paranoid. I got out my pipe and began to worry the gunk out of the bottom. Up ahead of us a car was coming, and I watched it warily. Then I looked back and saw another car behind pulling up on us. It reminded me of the road outside Carnation, and I watched it closely. The oncoming car went past, throwing light into the one behind us, illuminating the passenger's face for a second.
"Get off this road!" I shouted. "That's Sobel back there!"
I don't know what training they put Janie through, but it must have been good as anything the army does to drill its troops. She didn't say a word, just slammed on the accelerator to get around the next corner. "There's no turnoff here," she said after we'd made it. "Are you sure enough to risk going over the side?"
On one side of us was the steep hill they'd carved the road from. On the other was a drop of maybe thirty feet with trees and rocks in the part we could see, not very inviting, but it was a cinch we couldn't outrun whatever Sobel was in, not in a VW.
"We've got to get away before he catches up to us," I told her. "You figure out what to do, you're driving." I got the Luger out and checked it, wishing Janie was in my seat and I was driving. Maybe she could shoot as well as Steen. I knew I couldn't.
"There's a dirt patch ahead," Janie said. "Hold on, I'm turning off, it's kind of sharp." She braked hard and aimed the VW off to the right, up the hill. There was a wide dirt stretch that might have been the beginning of a driveway and might have been shoulder. The VW skidded on loose gravel and I saw a mailbox, so it was a road. She threw the shift down, gunning it to drift the turn, handling it almost as well as I could have, and we were bouncing up a rutted trail that made the drive to the Cuban stronghold look like a freeway. The VW lurched, fighting her for control, while we lost speed. The car behind slowed nicely, took the curve gingerly and came on after us. There wasn't any question now; before it might have been my imagination, but that guy was chasing us. We took another corner, this time under control.
"Stop this thing and get out fast!" I told her. I'd forgotten about that training of hers and she almost put me through the windshield. We were both out and running into the thick scrub brush and trees before the other car came in sight.
"Get down and don't move," I whispered. "Just stay right there."
She nodded and lifted her skirt, showing a lot of leg as well as the holster strapped to the inside of her thigh. The view of her leg was good, but I was more interested in the little chief's special she brought up. She held it like she knew how to use it.
Something jingled in my pocket, and I took out everything in it, coins, lighter, pocket knife, the works, and dropped it on the ground, moved quickly off the path we'd beaten into the bushes, moving carefully so as not to make noise. I might not be any jungle warfare expert, and I might have missed Rubiro moving up behind me after the fight, but I do get out in the woods to stalk deer. I wondered if comrade Sobel and whoever had been driving him did. I also wondered just how good his eyes were after his experience earlier. He could obviously see well enough to be out hunting for me tonight.
There wasn't a sound, but I had time. I just hoped Janie could keep still long enough to make something happen. Out of the canyons there had been a little moon, about a quarter full with some low clouds, but in here everything was shadowed. After a minute or two I could see dimly, bushes and trees and chaparral, with high weeds in between everything bigger. It wasn't easy country to move in quietly, and from the silence Sobel's people were standing still, hoping to hear us crashing around running from them.
I waited a couple of minutes longer, carefully choosing a route. They couldn't be close to me or I'd have heard them, and shooting in that light was likely to be pretty haphazard. It was time to stir something up, and I did by making a dash off to the right, angling back a bit toward the road but still going uphill. That located me for them, and when I was quiet again I heard them moving, one of them staying on the road, the other trying to be quiet as he punched through the chaparral. If the one on the road wasn't trusted in the weeds, he had to be very bad, because his partner was making enough noise to cover a regiment.
I waited until the guy on the road had got up ahead of me and moved off on his own. Actually, he was the better of the two, it was hard to hear him coming. Before they had me boxed I was going to have to do something. By now I had time to think about it, this wasn't just a night exercise from basic training or a deer stalk. That didn't seem to be too encouraging a thing to think about. I concentrated on the problem, ignoring the danger and planning what to do. I was plenty scared, but if I let it get the better of me that would be the end.
What advantages did I have? Sobel probably didn't have too high an opinion of me. He'd seen me plenty scared when he'd caught me before, and there wasn't any reason for him to believe I was going to be very difficult. He'd been careless with the hairspray bit, but I hadn't shot him or anything like that. I could hope he'd take me for a lightweight and that he'd be mad enough to make a mistake. From the noise, they were no match for me in the woods.
I moved carefully toward the guy crashing around in the bushes, letting his movements cover any sound I was making. That lost track of the other one, but he was
farther away, and I could only deal with one at a time. When I got close enough to the noisy one, I stamped on a pile of weeds and ran across his path, shouting "Help!" and anything else I could think of to make me sound hysterical.
He took the bait, started running after me. I took a long dive into the weeds, rolled over and lay still, waiting for him, but hoping he wouldn't get there.
My trail led him past where Janie was hiding, that was one reason I had shouted, so she'd know it was me. The guy ran right by her. He couldn't have been more than five feet from her when she shot him.
That little .38 made all the noise in the world. You could hear echoes of it all over the canyon, and somewhere up above us on the dirt road a dog started to bark. I angled down toward the road, taking plenty of time to make as little noise as I could, and got to where I could see the cars there, took a comfortable position close to them and waited some more. There was only one man out there now, and although he'd have Janie located from the shot, if she stayed still she could hear him coming from a long way off. He really wasn't very good in those weeds, and neither one of them had any business going in there after us.
Red Dragon Page 12