Gardens of the Queen

by Nicholas Harvey

  Carlos followed, figuring friend or foe didn’t matter, they had no choice. As he stepped onto the deck in the rolling seas he saw his girlfriend in a fervent embrace with a good-looking, dark-skinned young man. She finally released him and turned to Carlos.

  “Carlos, this is my brother Thomas!”

  They shook hands and exchanged an enthusiastic smile, Carlos relieved to be out of the water and in safe hands.

  Thomas turned to his side where a pretty, young, blonde lady in a rain jacket stood steadying herself in the swells.

  “Guys, meet my friend, and my boss, AJ Bailey.”

  Chapter 6

  Silvio knew a man that ran a bar in town that was open late. The bar owner’s wife knew the wife of the man who owned the smaller of the two markets in Jucaro. Jucaro was not a big town; in fact it was a pretty small fishing village with dirt roads. The store keeper was unimpressed to be woken late in the evening when he had to open at 6am the next morning and strongly suggested Silvio come by then. It took threats of Russians and G2 to persuade the man to meet him, but Silvio finally got what he needed and made it back to the boat, loaded with shopping bags and supplies.

  He’d rousted his first mate Julio, who reluctantly hurried to the boat and topped up the diesel from the storage tank on the dock while Silvio was gone. Julio had been progressing well on romantic plans with a young girl from a neighbouring village when he got the call. He was in a foul mood but Silvio was pleased he’d thought to start the motors idling so everything was warmed up. Carlos often helped crew on the boat and the three of them made a good team. With only two heading who knows where, it was going to be a challenge. The Russian wasn’t keen on getting his hands dirty so Silvio didn’t expect any help from him and figured his guests would be equally as reluctant.

  He stowed the supplies while Julio released all but two lines to the dock, readying for when the Russians arrived. They met in the wheelhouse and Silvio checked the weather. “Well, let’s hope they want to go anywhere but west, that storm looks really bad.”

  The sound of a helicopter grew louder and the two men peered outside to see a military chopper coming in to land in the car park up front. The rotors blew dust and rubbish around, forcing them to duck back inside.

  “Guess that’s our passengers showing up,” Silvio muttered as he slid the door closed to keep the wind out.

  “Bet they’ll get to sleep tonight,” Julio complained, slumping into the captain’s chair. “Doubt we’ll be so lucky”.

  Mikhail led the two men through the building and out the back door to the dock. Both were in their late twenties, dressed in dark grey business suits, hair short and trimmed, and each had a black gear bag slung over their shoulder. One of them also rolled two large hard cases. Silvio looked down from the wheelhouse at the three Russians about to board the boat. If they’re not operatives or agents or whatever the fuck they call themselves then I’m an American Hollywood star, he thought to himself. He smacked Julio on the arm. “Get down there and help our guests aboard or the boss will be mad before we’ve even started.” Julio reluctantly headed down to assist the new arrivals and show them their staterooms. He chuckled to himself at the term ‘stateroom’. Wait until these arseholes see the crappy little cots they get to enjoy, he thought. But then he remembered they would at least get to sleep even if it was a crappy little cot and stopped chuckling.

  Mikhail slid the door open to the wheelhouse and studied Silvio. In his usual detached monotone he gave him the destination, “Grand Cayman.”

  Silvio tried to hide his irritation but knew he had failed.

  “Problem, Silvio?”

  “Have you seen the storm that’s to the west sir? It’s over Grand Cayman – we’ll be heading straight for it.” Silvio nervously pointed to the radar screen showing a large expanse of angry red and yellow.

  Mikhail didn’t take his eyes off Silvio and let the silence linger uncomfortably for what seemed like forever. To Silvio’s relief he finally spoke, “Grand Cayman. As fast as possible. I’ll be back once we’ve cleared the inlet and you can give me your time estimate for the journey.” With that Mikhail left the wheelhouse and Silvio breathed again.

  He punched George Town harbour, Grand Cayman into the GPS and let it start plotting the route while he stepped out and looked for Julio. The younger man appeared on the deck and Silvio pointed at the remaining two lines and thumbed the air, signalling time to release them. Returning to the console he checked the GPS screen which displayed details of the route to Cayman along with a pop-up box showing ‘Warning! Dangerous conditions on this route.’

  “No shit,” Silvio muttered, shaking his head.

  Chapter 7

  The ride across the North Sound was rough to say the least and navigated solely from GPS as the storm raged on, keeping visibility at almost zero. AJ drove the boat while Thomas wrapped their wet guests in towels and tried to get them warmed up. The ‘Mermaid Divers’ RIB boat had a centre console so getting dry was impossible as the rain continued to douse everyone. Thomas passed around a thermos of tea they’d brought, which was eagerly consumed. It was hard to do much for their scrapes and wounds in the rough waters; they’d have to wait until they could attend to them properly back on shore.

  Thomas fussed around his sister as the two relayed the story of their harrowing flight from Cuba and their escape from the submerged plane. They reached the waterways leading to the marina and the waters settled considerably, making conversation possible.

  Sydney was shivering but relieved to be out of the water. “How on earth did you find us?!”

  Thomas smiled. “The storm hit shortly after you texted me that you were coming tonight, so we were ready at the boat. As the weather worsened, blowing from the north, AJ suggested we move the boat to Rum Point so at least we’d have the storm behind us to pick you up. Once we got out there it closed in really badly when the sun went down, far worse than predicted. Honestly it was pure luck we heard the plane go over and then shortly after come back over. We waited but didn’t hear it again so AJ said let’s do a quick sweep and see if radar picked up the plane, presuming you’d landed. We heard you yelling in the water.”

  Carlos couldn’t believe it. “That’s incredible you found us, thank you so much.”

  Sydney let out a long sigh, lost to the howling wind. “You’ve no idea how scary it is to be lost out there, alone in the open ocean!”

  AJ smiled and she and Thomas exchanged glances. Thomas started, “AJ knows a thing or two ab—” but AJ cut him off.

  “I’m sure it’s very unpleasant, it was good fortune we found you.”

  AJ winked at Thomas – she figured there’s no point comparing lost-at-sea stories. He got the hint and left it at that.

  Carlos looked puzzled. “How long did it take you to find us?”

  Thomas answered, “We only went a few hundred yards – you were really close to Rum Point.”

  Carlos spoke passionately, “That should make it easier to locate the plane, right? We have to find it and get the evidence I brought. There’s some cases inside the plane; we have to get one of them as soon as possible.”

  AJ glanced over at the bedraggled Cuban. “First thing tomorrow we can get you to the police, you can relay your story and we’ll work on getting you asylum. They’ll help us locate the wreck.”

  Carlos jumped up and joined AJ at the helm. “No! No police! The Russians will be after me for sure. As soon as they hear where the plane is they’ll come for it and for me.” He was beside himself, adamantly pleading, “I’m so sorry to involve all of you but none of us are safe now, these guys are very bad people, very serious, very serious believe me.”

  AJ tried to calm him. “If you’re held by the authorities here you’ll be safe – they’ll detain you while they look into asylum. Surely they won’t be able to reach you?”

  Carlos shook his head. “Believe me they can reach me, and besides, once they explain how I stole a Cuban government-owned plane and equipment th
ere’s no way I’m getting asylum, they’ll hand me over to the G2 and that’s the last you’ll see of me or the evidence I brought.”

  Thomas put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder, “Surely this can be explained to the Caymanian authorities? They’re reasonable people.”

  Sydney spoke up, “You guys don’t understand how powerful the Russians are. Anything they ask for in Cuba, they get. That’s not how things normally work in Cuba, everything takes forever and goes through ridiculous red tape, but not with Mikhail – Carlos says he gets whatever he wants as soon as he asks for it.”

  “It’s true,” Carlos interjected. “I’ve never seen anything like it. We were doing the geological studies from the boat last year and Mikhail says ‘we need a base’ and by midsummer we had a building with a dock and a lab!”

  AJ carefully manoeuvred through Governors Creek, still using nothing but GPS to find the yacht club where she had a slip. “Thomas told me you had information that would stop your government doing something they shouldn’t but he didn’t know much else. What are we talking about here?”

  Carlos looked at AJ carefully. He’d just met her but she’d risked a lot to pluck the two of them from the sea and had agreed to pick them up on nothing but Sydney’s word via Thomas. That’s a lot of trust on her part. At this stage he had little choice but to trust her and Thomas in return.

  He looked her straight in the eye. “It’s all about oil.”

  Chapter 8

  They left Jucaro and cleared the small scattered islands outside the bay, heading south west towards Grand Cayman. Their path would take them through the uninhabited archipelago of Jardines de la Reina into the deep water of the Caribbean Sea. They would pass north of Cayman’s sister islands, Cayman Brac and Little Cayman, before reaching Grand to complete the 190 nautical mile journey.

  Silvio had explained to Mikhail that this would take them around sixteen hours, to the Russian’s displeasure. Nothing new, Silvio had thought, he’s in a constant state of displeasure. The old boat had seen plenty of hours on the water and 11 knots was what she’d run at in wide open, favourable seas. Since they were heading straight for a storm front he’d also pointed out that sixteen hours was the best they could hope for as they’d be down as low as seven or eight knots in high swells. More displeasure.

  They had given the boat a fancy title of ‘survey vessel’ when it was presented to the Geology Institute eighteen months ago, but the moniker couldn’t hide that she was a 1960s trawler that had seen many a better day. They scrubbed off the old name ‘Consuela’ and painted on her new name ‘Explorador de la Reina’ as a further attempt at authenticity. She did fine running back and forth between Jucaro and Jardines de la Reina in the relatively calm waters the island chain protected, but runs across the open ocean were not the old girl’s forte these days. Still, she was Silvio’s old girl and he loved nothing more than being at her helm.

  Everyone generally left him alone in the wheelhouse. Carlos would hang out with him sometimes but he didn’t mind that. Although Carlos was ten years younger than Silvio they got along well. He was easy to chat with and they shared a love of the water, although Silvio preferred staying above it and Carlos was more interested in being under the surface. Carlos always asked after Silvio’s daughter and, unlike most young men, was happy to hear Silvio rattle on about his little girl. At seven years old she was becoming quite the young lady. Silvio saw her so infrequently he could tell how much she’d grown each time. It shouldn’t be that way for a father, he thought, she should grow such a small amount each day you see her that it happens unnoticed in front of you. But he lived in a crappy little apartment in Jucaro and his wife and daughter lived in another man’s house in Havana. Once a month he took the seven-hour bus ride to the city to spend a few precious hours with his baby, take more grief from his ex-wife, and make the seven-hour journey back.

  Chapter 9

  AJ stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She finally felt warmed up after a long evening of being doused by rain and sea water. It was still seventy-two degrees outside despite the storm but the wind and rain soon chilled the body down and made it seem much colder. Drying off she threw on a tee shirt and shorts and joined her guests in the living room of her small apartment. She’d let them clean up first and now they tended to each other’s scrapes and cuts wearing clothes they’d borrowed from her and Thomas, the meagre belongings they’d brought left in the sunken plane.

  Thomas had dropped a change of clothes off for Carlos and headed back to his house to clean himself up and get some sleep. They figured it was better to hide their two fugitives at AJ’s little apartment in the grounds of a nice house, tucked away and private on Seven Mile Beach. The best she could offer was a sofa bed but she assumed correctly it would be welcomed after the ordeal they’d been through.

  AJ grabbed some white wine from the fridge and three glasses from the cupboard before dropping into a chair and pouring a drink for each of them. She’d already handed out the thin food supplies on hand, which were reduced to crumbs in short order. She noticed Carlos curiously eyeing her full-sleeve tattooed arms. Her left had a colourful reef scene, the right a black and grey wreck with a deep-sea diver. She smiled to herself; she was used to people staring at her artwork.

  Sydney paused from cleaning up the abrasion on Carlos’s cheek. “We can’t thank you enough for all your help AJ, you’ve been too kind. Not many would do this for a couple of strangers.”

  AJ shrugged. “Well, you’re Thomas’s sister so although we’ve only met a couple of times, we’re like family by default. And Carlos is part of the package you came with, so here we are.” She sipped her wine and carried on thoughtfully, “We need a plan though. What exactly are you hoping to do in Cayman? If you’re seeking asylum we have to go the authorities and start that process.”

  Carlos urgently brushed Sydney’s hand away from his cheek. “I tell you we cannot go to the police or anyone else until we get this story to the press.” Sydney rested her hand on his shoulder to try and calm him back down but he carried on, still animated, “I don’t care what happens to me…” He stopped himself and looked at Sydney, apologies in his eyes. “I do care, I’m sorry, I care, but this is bigger than me, more important than me. Too much depends on this. I cannot be selfish about it – if I go to jail then so be it but this story must be told, the people must know.”

  AJ was surprised by the passion in his voice and even more curious now. “You said it’s about oil? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on and then, maybe, we can figure out what to do next?”

  Carlos settled back into the sofa and allowed himself a sip of wine before beginning his story.

  “Okay, I’ll give you the whole story so this will take a minute and please forgive my poor English.”

  AJ chuckled. “It’s a lot better than my Spanish believe me; you’re doing great.”

  He allowed a smile and began, “After university they sent me to work at the Instituto de Estudios Geológicos in Jucaro, which at the time was just an office in town and a boat. They built a proper building for it this summer. I had studied geology at school and they taught me to fly in my military service so they wanted me there as they were getting a seaplane to be able to take people and gear up and down the coast. I had no idea what they were up to when I got there and I was surprised to find the studies were being run by a Russian man named Mikhail Gurov.” Sydney cringed at the mention of the man’s name.

  Carlos continued, “All the offshore oil fields in Cuba are to the north where there’s a triangular area Cuba owns and three rigs that supply most of our oil. But the rights are owned by a mixture of other countries and in the past we’ve received subsidised supplies from Russia, which is one of the world’s largest oil producers. The biggest problem with the oil from the north is the quantity isn’t enough to supply the whole country, especially after they sold the rights away for too much of it. Now Cuba has been hunting for other reserves around the country.

&n
bsp; With Russia’s help they found a seam on the south side and from the surveys we did it appears to be a large reserve and is suspected to be higher quality. Most of our surveys showed it to be in deep water outside the island chain but two months ago we found a seam that runs towards the mainland right under Jardines de la Reina. They figured they can put rigs on the islands or in the shallow waters around them and tap the reserves through the seam that extends there without having the expense of deep-water rigs offshore.

  You have heard of Jardines de la Reina? It is Gardens of the Queen in English?” Carlos queried.

  AJ nodded. “Absolutely, seen it in the dive magazines, looks amazing. Dive it from live-aboard boats, right? Nobody lives on the islands?”

  “That is correct, so the number of divers is very limited and the reefs are in pristine condition. It is a marine sanctuary and has a reef system running most of its length. Beyond the reef system the bottom drops away to the deep ocean water, much like here in Cayman, so we get many sharks and deep-water fish; it is truly a special place.”

  “And that’s where they want to drill for oil?” AJ asked, amazed.

  “Unbelievable isn’t it?” Sydney replied.

  “So why are the Russians involved in this?” AJ was now on the edge of her seat, consumed by Carlos’s story.

  “Russia is a huge oil producer – there are massive reserves across Siberia, they rival the US and Saudi as the top producers in the world but it’s low-quality oil like our oil in the north. The Russians need high-quality oil and Cuba needs more oil so they’re both strongly motivated to find it anywhere they can. Russia holds the notes on all the major government loans Cuba has accumulated over the years, which adds up to large amount of debt. The Russians are using the loans as bargaining to get the Cuban oil; they forgive some or all of the loans in exchange for high quality oil. Compare that to the income from a few hundred divers visiting the islands and the government won’t think twice about ‘adjusting’ his marine sanctuary.”