“Bullets kill civilians, too,” Minnie replied. “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”
Adán put the engine in gear and eased the throttle forward, nosing the boat out from the dock at an angle. He headed for the first green navigation light that marked the channel out to the open sea. “You should get the bucket out of the cabin and bring it up here.”
Minnie scowled again. “Why?” she demanded.
“The wind is coming from the south.”
“So?”
“Southern winds create chop. We’ll climb up waves sideways, then down them. You’re already dealing with morning sickness. The corkscrew motion won’t do you any favors.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s the Vistarian in me. Sorry.”
She smiled and lifted her chin to look at him. “I’m married to a Vistarian throwback. If I’m grumpy, it’s not because of you, it’s because of him. He’ll kill me when he finds out I’m doing this.”
Adán nodded as he steered the boat passed the first channel marker and into the open seas behind the marina. The boat tilted and yawed. He spread his feet, finding his balance. “Your Duardo will kill you and Nick will kick my ass. We’re helping, though, right?”
“Right,” Minnie said firmly.
* * * * *
It was an unremarkable crossing. Minnie didn’t react to the motion of the boat, even though the chop was greater than Adán had expected. Either she was holding back nausea with an iron jaw, or she was a born boat person who never got sea-sick. She stood beside him, or sat on the edge of a carton projecting from the stack behind them.
Adán was glad to have her company. Being alone on the yacht was different to being alone on a noisy, smelly boat running without lights, stealing into an island that was constantly under fire. She chatted sometimes about people and events in the big house which helped him fill in who was who and the roles they played. Sometimes, she let silence stretch.
Occasionally, she poured him coffee from the thermos they had put on the dash for him. Once, she had spelled him at the wheel, while he ate the sandwiches that had come with the coffee.
They spotted the first of the navigation buoys just after two in the morning. Adán was pleased. “The tide didn’t pull us off course as much as I thought it might.”
“You’re right on top of it,” Minnie said. “Last time I came over, we had to turn and follow the coast down until we reached the marker.” She glanced at him. “I guess you’re as good as you say you are with boats.”
“It’s been a while since I navigated around Vistaria, though,” he admitted. “Come over to the port side, hm?”
She considered him. “Out of sight of the mainland and the Insurrectos, you mean?”
“Humor me,” Adán told her.
Silently, she sidled behind him and tucked herself into the corner made where the bulkhead met the side of the boat. “Better?”
“Thank you.” He glanced over to the starboard where a black-hulled launch with no lights was heading toward them. The bow wave it made glowed ghostly in the dark. “We’ve been spotted.”
“This boat is known,” Minnie assured him. “Wave at them.”
He waved.
The launch turned and ran alongside them, with a hundred feet separating them. It escorted them all the way into the long dock. A reception committee waited on the dock. Adán spotted Nick’s red hair among the dark-haired soldiers. “We have company.”
Minnie stepped back so she could see through the windscreen. “Nick. Flores. Duardo. Damn, the patrol warned them.”
“Did you think they would be pleased to see you?”
“Us, Adán,” she corrected him. “They’ll yell at you, too.”
Adán laughed. “I’ve spent decades watching directors and actors having hissy fits. I can take it.”
Minnie grinned.
He nudged the boat up against the dock and a dozen hands grabbed the gunnels and secured the moorings. Adán killed the engine and felt his ears throb. It was quiet without the pulsing of the noisy motor.
The same hands tackled the mountain of boxes on the deck, stripping away the netting and carrying the cartons back up the jetty.
Nick jumped down onto the clear space on the deck, along with another tall Vistarian in a Colonel’s uniform—except the sleeves had makeshift stars. A general, then. From the man’s scowl as he looked at Minnie, Adán guessed this was her husband, Duardo.
“What the hell, Adán?” Nick said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Bringing food and water. It’s good to see you, too, cousin.”
Nick put his hands on his hips. “I left you in Los Angeles.”
“I decided it was time to go when someone tried to blow up the building I was standing in.”
Nick hesitated, his chest lifting. “They said it was a boiler.”
“They’re lying,” Adán replied.
Duardo let go of Minnie, his attention caught. “It has been confirmed? Is there a Vistarian connection?”
“There might be,” Adán admitted.
Duardo and Nick exchanged glances.
“I told Duardo what you told me, on the phone,” Nick said. “Oh, Duardo—Adán Caballero y Lord. Adán, General Eduardo Santiago Peña y Santos.”
Duardo nodded. Both his hands were around Minnie. “Adán.”
“Duardo,” Adán replied.
Behind them, the deck was clearing of boxes and crates. The team of soldiers moved with well-practiced rhythm.
Another team were trundling a tank on wheels down the jetty. The tank was taller than any of them. Two privates tapped the bow tanks. A third got the little pump going. A hose extended from the tank in the bow to the one on the trolley. The pump motor hummed, sucking water into the tank on the trolley.
No one spoke as they went about their business. The efficiency was impressive.
Nick rested his hand on Adán’s shoulder. “We can give you a hot meal and coffee before you head back.”
“A meal would be most welcome.” Adán climbed onto the dock after Nick and felt the odd solidness of the planks under his feet after the rocking of the deck. Nick waited for him to fall in alongside him as they walked up the length of the jetty toward the shore. “No one is ducking, here, so I’m guessing we’re out of sight of the Insurrectos.”
“They’re all concentrating on the narrows, on the north side of the island,” Nick said. “They know we will try to cross there.”
“Is that the plan? To cross over?”
“And to keep going, after that,” Nick said. “Once we have a toe-hold on the main island, we don’t stop until we reach the capital and take back the palace.”
He didn’t speak with any emphasis, yet invisible fingers walked up Adán’s spine.
“I know you want to help, Adán,” Nick said, “but you can’t get involved. You understand that, don’t you?”
“There are other ways I can help, besides picking up a rifle.”
“You were helping, in Los Angeles. No one else could have done what you did.”
“You know what I mean,” Adán said, annoyed.
“Such as driving a supply boat?” Nick asked. He sighed. “I know what you mean.” He glanced at Adán. “How many people with cameras saw you get on the boat?”
“None,” Adán said. “Captain Rey is a formidable officer.”
“Not formidable enough to keep Minnie off the damn boat,” Nick growled.
“She’s a grown woman, Nick.”
“And you’re old enough to make your own decisions, too,” Nick said, his tone one of agreement. “You’re wasting your talents, piloting a boat. With the USA shutting down on us and Olivia distracted…” He drew in a long slow breath. “Never mind,” he said. “Forget I spoke.”
“Calli said the White House was not talking to her,” Adán said. “I don’t think you should read anything into that, Nick. They’re preoccupied at the moment.”
T
hey were moving into the camp area now. Spotlights with their own generators bathed the area with light.
Adan shook his head. “Maybe I’m missing something, Nick…”
Nick glanced at Adán and this time, Adán saw the indigo blue of his eyes and the speculation in his stare. “What would that be?”
“Forgive me for second guessing. It is sheer effrontery, I know. Only, if the Insurrectos are expecting you to cross the straight at the narrowest part, why do you not land on the main island anywhere but there? You could come in behind them and cut them off…”
Nick shook his head.
Adán shrugged. “Perhaps I’m missing something?”
“It would be a good idea, except for a couple things,” Nick said. He held the flap of a tent aside for him.
“I’m listening,” Adán said, hiding his surprise that the great Nicolás Escobedo was speaking freely about his business. Nick always kept things to himself, even before the war.
“Coming in around behind them would be tactically brilliant,” Nick said. “It would corner them. I would give my…” He grinned. “I have nothing left to give, anymore. Yet to be able to squash them against a two hundred foot drop…my God, I would pay my last peso to do it. Only, that’s what the Insurrectos are expecting us to do.” He grinned. “Every now and again, we run one of the boats up around the coast on either side of the channel, to give their sentries something to panic about. Pretend we’re scouting.” He winked.
Adán laughed. “You want them distracted.”
“And thinned out. While they’re watching their backs, they’re not watching their front line as well as they should.” Nick gripped his arm and drew him into the tent.
Adán dropped into the folding chair Nick indicated.
“The hurricane didn’t just destroy every building on the Big Rock except the smelter,” Nick said. “It also totaled all but a dozen of the boats we used to get here. If we were going to try a beachhead landing, then it would take a dozen return trips to put everyone on the beach. While the boats were getting a new load, the troops on the beach would be sitting ducks. Even the Insurrectos couldn’t miss.”
“Oh,” Adán said.
Nick’s smile was grim as he picked up a silver hip flask from the camp table and held it out to Adán. “We have to go across the strait. Head-on, no flanking.”
“Damn,” Adán breathed. He gripped the flask and drank. Mescal. Spiced and good. He blew out his breath and wiped his mouth. “Isn’t that the hardest way to do it?”
Nick grimaced. “It’s the only way.”
* * * * *
When the little cabin emptied, Duardo drew Minnie down the steps. He settled her beside him on the long, cushioned bench lining either side of the cabin, beneath the tiny portholes. He picked up her hand.
“Before you get all mad at me,” Minnie said quickly, “you should know I won’t do this again. I wanted to help. One last time. I wanted to see the difference I can make.”
Duardo’s grip tightened. His dark eyes, in the dim cabin, were steady. “The risk, mi amor…” His gaze dropped to her belly.
“War is high risk for civilians anywhere,” she replied. “What’s stopping Serrano from landing a crack team on the beach below the big house and taking us all out while you’re sitting here on the Big Rock?”
He flinched. Then he drew in a steadying breath. “What is stopping Serrano from doing that is a complete lack of anything resembling a crack team. However, I see your point.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Very well. I will not be mad.”
“Thank you.” She kissed him, meaning only to brush his cheek. He caught her face in his hands and turned it into a real kiss, one that heated her and made her middle melt and her thoughts to leap ahead to images of hot, naked flesh and slick contact.
Then he groaned and let her go. “I can’t let down my guard, not even here,” he said, apologetically.
“That’s okay,” she said, hiding her disappointment. “I guess it would be cheating or something, to take advantage of both of us being in the same space for more than two seconds.” It came out more wistfully than she expected.
Duardo cupped her cheek. “The sacrifice of war.” A small smile pulled at his mouth.
“I want to help. I mean, really help, Duardo. How can I do that? And don’t tell me the quarter master shit is helping, because I know the big push is about to start. The last thing you guys will worry about is adequate spice for your coffee.”
His eyes widened. “Who told you that?” he demanded.
“About the big push?” She shook her head. “No one. You’re here on the Rock, and Vistaria is right there within spitting distance. You’d be crazy to pack up and come back to Acapulco now.”
Duardo didn’t relax. “You really want to help?”
“Yes. Direct and front line, Duardo.”
He nodded, his eyes narrowing. “You are right. We don’t need coffee now. What we need is the machinery of government at our backs. Quartermaster is part of it, although we need…God, everything. Someone must think about what happens afterwards and I don’t have time. Neither does Nick nor Flores. You and Calli, though, you have room and time to figure out how Vistaria will run, when we get it back.”
“You mean…invent a government?”
He nodded. “There was much that was good, that worked well. Only, there were flaws, too. This is a chance to correct the flaws and use the good. Rubén Rey can help—he’s a trained lawyer and knows the Vistarian constitution.”
Minnie’s heart beat harder. “You really do mean it…” she breathed.
Duardo looked at her quizzically. “Of course I mean it. Why do you look at me that way?”
Minnie turned on the bench to face him. “You’re not brushing me off with a make-work detail.”
“I would not do that. You asked to help.”
“You would have, when we first met,” Minnie said. “You did it a lot. You would keep me out because I was just a woman.”
Duardo studied her. “If I did, I was a fool and I am sorry for that. You are still a woman to me, only I have learned your worth. We could not have got this far in the war without you and many other women.”
Minnie kissed him, her heart light and filled with joy. She wormed her way onto his lap and fumbled at the buttons on his jacket.
“Minnie…” he said, his voice strained and his lips moving against hers. “No.”
“Stay alert if you want,” she breathed, dropped her hand to his belt. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
He groaned and leaned back, bringing her with him.
Chapter Nine
“Adán should be back at the house by noon,” Nick said, his grainy image on the screen shifting disjointedly, as he looked at his watch.
“I hope you were nice to him, Nick,” Calli replied.
Nick didn’t laugh or scowl. He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s hard for him. He’s honorable, he wants to help, yet being who he is…”
“There are ways he can help, back here,” Calli assured him.
“Let him keep piloting the boat,” Nick said, unexpectedly. “Adán is good with boats. He grew up around them. He spent more time in the sea than on land when we were kids. He knows all the local waters, too.”
“Is there a need for more supplies, still?” Calli asked. “How soon…?” She didn’t finish the question. Even though their connection was unhackable, she was reluctant to voice the question aloud.
“Two days. Maybe three,” Nick said.
Her heart gave an extra little beat.
“After that, we’ll use the helicopters to drop supplies. We’ll be inland,” Nick said. His tone was off-hand, although Calli understood what he was not saying. They would be inland, fighting the Insurrectos for every foot of ground, pushing toward Lozano Colinas.
Nick’s gaze was steady. He watched her absorb the implications.
Calli nodded. “The Blackhawks will be ready to go when you are.”
“Thank you
, my love,” he whispered.
Her heart fluttered.
Nick shifted on the folding chair he was sitting on.
Change of subject, Calli thought.
“Have you heard from the White House?” he asked.
Calli kept her face immobile. Nick was far too good at reading people, especially her. His image was grainy, while her camera was a high definition webcam. He could see every pore on her face. If she quivered, he would notice.
“Haven’t heard back from anyone there, yet,” she said lightly.
Nick frowned. “You’ve heard back from someone, somewhere else?”
Damn. She pressed her lips together. “It’s nothing you need worry about right now,” she assured him.
“Calli.” His voice was a growl.
Calli knew the tone. El Leopardo was prowling. She lifted her hand in warning. “Don’t read anything into this, okay?”
Nick waited, saying nothing.
Calli struggled to speak with a light tone, to minimize it. “I took a call from Miguel Aguirre last night. He’s…worried.”
“About…?” Nick coaxed with a deceptively patient tone.
“The United States hasn’t committed the way you told him they would, when you retook the mine.”
Nick scowled and leaned back. His gaze flickered away.
“Nick,” Calli said, her tone sharp.
At the bottom of the screen, she saw his hand curl into a fist. Did he not realize she could see it?
“Did he talk about withdrawing the Mexican units from the island?” Nick asked.
“No,” Calli lied, her tone flat.
Nick closed his eyes. “When are they leaving?” he asked tiredly. He had spotted her lie.
“They’re not. I talked him out of it. Nick, look at me,” Calli said. “Nick!”
He turned to the screen, moving slowly.
Calli leaned forward. “If I could, I would lean through this screen and shake you. You’re being Vistarian and melodramatic and if you step out of the tent with that expression on your face, every Loyalist will despair. Get your shit together, Nicolás Escobedo! You have a whole country looking to you for hope, right now. You can’t afford to lose it.”
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