The Apocalypse Virus Trilogy_Book 1_Big Smoke

by Blackstone, R. F.

  Christine looked up, the sky was growing darker and the clouds looked ominous. She thought about everything Station Master had said to her, the way he ran The Station. “I didn’t think so,” she heard Juan say.

  “But he said that Station Master was going to hire him.”

  “A ruse setup by myself, unfortunately. In this day and age, Cuba is still regarded as being untrustworthy in the eyes of the espionage world. I had to use trickery. The idiot should never have told you!” Juan sniffed the air. “It’s going to be a mighty impressive rapture… Why did Adriana come to you?”

  “I’m sorry for your man,” Christine apologized, “but why have him here anyway?”

  Juan looked sheepish as he spoke. “To keep tabs on you. But why, Christine? Why on Earth did you have to maim him?”

  “I had met him before. He was the one delivering the intel that brought The Station back to Cuba.”

  The old man nodded his head. “The Station never left,” he said softly.

  “What?”

  “Nada,” he said a little too quickly. “Tell me about Adriana.”

  Christine closed her eyes and tilted her head up as the wind came rushing in. It was cool and felt wonderful on her skin. The smells of Cuba mingled with that of rain and the sea was the perfect perfume that she would have gladly worn. “The old man said that CI would give me a contact to work with here. I should have gone straight to you. But she came to me, claiming to be back in your good graces. I didn’t want to believe her, yet she kept appearing and she helped. The day of Pinar del Rio? She said she went to the Bay.”

  “And she told you some story about how she got in and found or didn’t find anything of value?”

  Christine nodded. “We had been informed that there was WMDs there.” She glanced at Juan; his face was incredulous.

  “And you believed it?”

  “I had to follow up any leads that might get me closer to saving him.”

  “President Sanderson?”

  Again, she nodded. “Since there was no—”

  “Never has been.”

  “Says you.” Christine hated to be interrupted. She knew that if Juan continued like this, then he would have everything he needed, but for what, she could not tell. But she wasn’t going to let it happen. “When did CI get disbanded?” she said slowly and deliberately.

  “What? Who said…?” Juan trailed off, his face falling. “That is of no importance.”

  Christine scoffed as a flash of lightning struck the waves. “From the moment I got here, you have been leading me around like a dog! Why, Juan? What could have possessed you to lie to me?”

  Juan looked tiny now; he fiddled with his walking stick, trying not to look at her.

  “Answer me!”

  He sighed. “I am an old man who has made many many mistakes over the years. This,” he tapped the plaque, “being my worst. My noble presidente decided that Cuba didn’t need a secret police. He was worried we were going to become like the Tonton Macoute. I was fired, my network disbanded, and that was it. Since then, I’ve been waiting to die.”

  “What? This your last attempt to be relevant?” Christine would have felt sympathy for the man, but there was a part of her that needed to see him broken.

  “No.” Juan was shaking his head rapidly. “The moment poor Rafael called me, telling me you were back, I knew I had the chance; my last chance to get forgiveness.”

  Then it all made sense to her. “That’s why you brought me here.”

  “And to tell you the truth.”

  Christine wanted to know but spite rose to her mouth. “What? That Adriana works for Esposito? That this is all a setup and Jeremiah Banks is your best friend?”

  “Por favor!” the old man wailed over the thunder. “I am an old man, Christine, have mercy.”

  “Like you had mercy on my friends?” She laughed harshly. “I should never have trusted you. Like everyone else deceitful!”

  She stood and stared out at the tempest fast approaching them. For some reason, it calmed her, but only slightly. Juan started sobbing, and inherently Christine knew this was her moment to bring up the zombies. She sat down next to the old man and gently held his hand.

  “It’s been one hell of a day. Shit, the last couple of days have been up there.”

  “Up where,” the old man asked, looking at the sky.

  Christine laughed. “Not literally. Up there, like, in the top ten list of worst days ever.”

  Juan nodded. “I can count the number of them on my hand.” He rubbed his face. “You should never have come back.”

  “What?”

  “La muerte te sigue.”

  Christine laughed. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  Juan de Dios looked at her. “Exactly that. Make of it what you will. I’m too old and tired for this.”

  “Why would Death be following me?”

  “Ask the man you call Station Master.”

  Christine shook her head as a loud thunderclap sounded, followed by lightning strikes. The storm had officially hit Havana. “I’ve got a job to do,” she said more to herself than to the spy master. In a way, it was to remind herself the real reason she was here.

  “A job?”

  “Yeah, save the president and kill Jeremiah Banks.” Saying it out loud again made her feel in control, something she hadn’t felt since arriving.

  “Look around!” Juan had to scream to be heard. “¡Cuba, se dirige a la condenación!”

  Christine ignored the shouts as she fought against the howling winds, making her way down the Malecón.

  #

  Goddamn that old man, Christine thought as she sat at the bar in the Nacional. Her ashtray had the half-smoked remains of a Montecristo Doble Edmundo. Beside it was a mojito that she had barely touched. She looked around; since the storm had come in proper, the bar had slowly started to fill up. It was now almost at capacity and Christine’s foul mood had not improved.

  A couple of young Cubans and gringos tried to speak with her but after a few choice insults aimed at their manhoods, Christine was left alone.

  “Damn La Perpetua,” a businessman sitting beside her said to his partner. “Buying up every cigar factory and crumbling building. Do you know who owns it?”

  “Not a clue,” his friend said. “But did you hear it brought Guantanamo Bay from the USA?”

  Christine turned slightly at that. Her mind raced; if this was true, then chances were she could get to the base. “Excuse me,” she said in her most apologetic voice, “you just said that La Perpetua has been buying buildings and companies and now the base and I don’t mean to pry but…what is La Perpetua?”

  The two businessmen looked at the woman then to each other. The first gave a big smile before answering, “It’s new. Privately owned and has been slowly buying land here since Obama started to talk with Castro. Why would a dish like you want to know?” He leaned forward and his eyes lingered on Christine’s bosom.

  “Just curious. Lots of people are talking about them. I didn’t think that a US company could buy property and businesses in Cuba?”

  The second younger shook his head. “It’s not US. It used to be then apparently a while ago it relocated and was restructured. Now its base of operations is Mexico. Smart move really.”

  “Indeed. Especially if you take into account the Guantanamo purchase,” Big Smile said as he tried to stroke Christine’s hand.

  “Oh?” she asked, casually using that hand to take a sip from her drink.

  “Well, it makes sense,” Big Smile replied, trying to impress the woman. “The USA has been using the base for renditions and as a detention center for years. Ever since way back in the 1940s during Batista. Nowadays, with the way the global relations scene has been going, they can’t afford to anymore. Look at it from the UN’s point of view, if a superpower—”

  “They haven’t been that for ages,” Young One muttered.

  “A superpower,” Big Smile continued, “has bases in anothe
r country to run espionage operations, renditions, and have it as its own torture room, that is bad for business. On a global level. Yes yes yes, all countries do it. But if the country is trying to get a better reputation, then removing such a base from another land would be great for PR. Then if you take into account the fact that La Perpetua has been making releases about all the new equipment, housings, and jobs it will create… It’s obvious that whoever has a vested interest in Cuba and American talks, this is the perfect move.”

  Christine nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. Now she knew two things; the first was that she had been wrong all this time. Money. That was the name of the game. Secondly, she had to now get to Guantanamo Bay.

  “Disculpe, señora?” the bartender said, tapping her arm. “Señora? Telefono.” He laid the phone on the bar in front of her then went back to chatting up some floozies.

  Christine picked up the phone then with a smile she turned away from the two businessmen. “Bueno.”

  “Chris! Thank God, are you okay? Did he hurt you again?”

  “Adriana,” Christine said, “how quickly can you get here?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “See you out front…and bring a car!”

  “Si,” Adriana said, “Pero, ¿a dónde vamos?”

  Christine allowed herself a small smile. “Field trip.”

  #

  “Some field trip,” Adriana muttered as the Chevrolet careened along the highway. “Can you please get us away from the coast!”

  Christine was driving, hands glued to the wheel and eyes on the road. The storm buffeted the old car. “When I can.”

  The moment Adriana had pulled up in front of the Nacional, Christine dove in, pushed Adriana into the passenger seat then took off. Very little had been said between them.

  “You were right about Juan.”

  “Gracias!” Adriana bowed her head slightly. “Mira, I’m not just a pretty face.”

  She reached out and gently squeezed Christine’s thigh. The blonde grinned stupidly as she turned the wheel. The car was now driving along a small one-lane road. It had been asphalted, recently too. Good, Christine thought.

  “Chris, where are we going?” Adriana asked softly.

  “It’s a surprise,” Christine said. “A really good one.”

  Adriana said nothing as she looked around, her face screwed up slightly as she tried to figure out where they were headed. After a moment, she shook her head, “No sé.”

  Christine didn’t make any comment; instead, she pressed further down on the accelerator, propelling the old classic car faster and faster. Whoever had owned it before Adriana had done a bang-up job of keeping it in almost pristine condition. There was a slight rattle that had started to annoy her. Other than that, she quite enjoyed the experience of driving it.

  “So,” Adriana said, trying to sound causal, “how did you get the stalwart Juan de Dios to talk?”

  A humorless chuckle came from Christine. “Emotional blackmail.”

  The Cuban nodded. “Care to elaborate?”

  Christine shook her head. She had a plan and nothing was going to get in the way. It had become night and Christine had no idea what time it was. The pelting rain didn’t help the situation either.

  Even though the car was in good condition, the tires needed to be changed. Almost bald, they had trouble gripping the slick wet road. Christine felt these as she drove and had to make minor adjustments to compensate.

  “Chris,” Adriana said after a quick glance out the back, “I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve got a stalker.”

  Lights flashed behind them, reflecting in the rearview mirror. Christine had to squint. The driver of the car meant business.

  “Hold tight.”

  Christine slammed booth feet down on the break.

  The wheels jammed and the Chevrolet spun.

  Its front bumper caught the other car’s, a small Dodge, passenger side. As both vehicles continued their rollercoaster trip, Christine peered at the other driver. In the darkness, she couldn’t see much, just a panama hat and maybe a flash of gray.

  “Fuck me!” Adriana screamed as Christine fought with the vehicle to get it back under control. The old tires screeched and kicked out each time she turned the wheel.

  Christine kept one eye on the road and the other on the Dodge. It had stopped spinning and came to a stop. Waiting.

  “Straighten up!”

  “I will if you shut your mouth!”

  Christine had one foot on the brake and the other on the gas pedal. She tapped each one consecutively until the car stopped spinning.

  They were pointing backwards. Christine shifted the gears into reverse then put pedal to the metal.

  The driver of the Dodge didn’t know what to make of the view he got: A Chevrolet speeding in reverse past him, the driver giving him the finger and the passenger blowing kisses.

  Christine kept speeding until the other car’s lights had disappeared.

  “You think we are safe?” Adriana asked.

  “Yep, he won’t be following us anytime soon.”

  “How do you know?”

  Christine started laughing as she put the car in the right direction then they were off. “His back wheels are in a ditch.”

  Adriana allowed herself a chuckle. “Who do you think it was?”

  Christine shrugged as they turned onto a more used road. “You tell me.”

  “What does that mean?” Adriana sounded indignant.

  Christine didn’t answer. Her eyes were on the road. “Here we are.”

  #

  The rain had stopped, but the clouds were still dark and deep with the occasional rumble of thunder to remind them to hurry. Christine and Adriana got out of the car. Christine walked towards a gate and fumbled with something.

  “Where the hell are we?” Adriana asked again, getting exasperated with the lack of response.

  Christine turned around then walked over to the Cuban. She thrust what appeared to be a small metal sign at Adriana. “You should know. Liar.”

  Adriana looked down at the sign:

  GUANTANAMO BAY

  PRIVATE PROPERTY

  SOLD

  “This must be the other side,” Adriana said a little too quickly. “I always enter from the south.”

  “This is the fucking south,” Christine said as she started to climb the fence. “Come on,” she ordered.

  They didn’t take long to make it across the sandy patch that used to be a minefield. Christine had picked up a handful of pebbles and used them to check for any of the bombs. She flicked them left and right and as each one landed, both women held their breath. Not a single explosion.

  After getting in through the main door which had been left open, no need to worry about security now, Christine went to find a map. “You’ve been here before; the other day, in fact. Right?”

  Adriana stood there looking like a child caught with their hand in the candy jar. “Si, por que?”

  Christine grabbed two flashlights from a utility closet and handed one to Adriana. “You lead then.”

  The Cuban took a breath then started walking.

  Each room they came had been completely cleaned out. Not even a scrap of paper had been left. Adriana would scan a room quickly then move onto the next. Christine, on the other hand, made sure to inspect the rooms thoroughly. There was a layer of dust on all the exposed surfaces.

  “Did it look like they were cleaning out the place the other day?”

  Adriana shook her head. “No. It was business as always. I wonder what happened?”

  A snort from Christine. “Obviously, they got word we were coming and so they had to vacate the premises.”

  “En serio?”

  Christine stopped. “Don’t play dumb with me. La Perpetua brought the base. That’s why there was a ‘sold’ sticker on that sign… Or did you fail to notice it?”

  Before Adriana could answer, Christine stormed past her. “Why, Adriana? Why all the lies?”
>
  “What do you mean, cariña?”

  Christine found a small filing cabinet and started going through it. “You should have told me about CI, about your government job, fucking everything!”

  Adriana said nothing. She watched as Christine finished going through the files. Nothing. In frustration, Christine slammed the drawers shut then gave it a kick. “Well?”

  A long sigh escaped from Adriana “I was under orders. When Esposito got word about a Station agent coming back to Cuba, we had to make sure that whoever it was would be on the level. He ordered me not to break cover at all. I didn’t know it was going to be you, Chris…”

  “What a story! I believe every word of it.” Christine’s voice dripped with sarcasm and contempt. “Or maybe this is another cover and really you’re a double for the USA.” She stormed down a corridor then down some stairs. Adriana had to run to catch up with her.

  “You know how much I hate the gringos! Remember all the long talks we had?”

  Christine’s face was like stone. “How do I know anything is true?”

  “You don’t,” Adriana said, tears streaming down her face. “All you can do is go on a little faith.”

  Christine stopped. They had come to a dead end. A foreboding cement wall glared at them. Adriana was breathing hard and fast. Christine sensed they were close to something.

  “A little faith? Fine,” Christine said, turning to look at her former lover. She took Adriana’s face in her hands and held it tightly. “Answer me this one question truthfully and I’ll give you all my faith.”

  Adriana nodded the best she could, her eyes darting between Christine and the wall.

  “Why didn’t you come here?”

  Christine watched as the Cuban tried to look truthful. It did not suit her, and to Christine, it was obviously fake. “Never mind.” She turned and started down another passageway.

  “Espera.”

  Christine stopped but did not turn. “What is it?”

  Adriana was beside her. “Come with me.”

  #

  Christine followed Adriana. They hadn’t spoken much and the emptiness of the base was getting to Christine. “You going to tell me where we’re going?”