Ms. Anna

by Bill Lockwood

  “Right,” Max agreed. “That fortuneteller-type lady I met on the plane also said something about transporting a dead man’s bones. What have I gotten myself into?”

  “I’d be careful of Señor Cofresí, too, if I were you,” Anna warned. “When you go to the plant tomorrow, he might just try to put you into some kind of compromising position so he can have something to hang over your head so you’ll give a good report about him to your family. He would have loved it if you’d owed him money after the card game…anything like that. I wouldn’t put something like that past someone like him.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “I’d say us meeting with Cubans might be something to hold against you too, but that was set up with my father before you won our boat.”

  “Right.” Max thought a moment. Then he asked, “So we’re taking a dead man’s bones to Key West? That’s the job? Somehow there’s a lot I don’t like about this whole thing.”

  “I don’t like it either,” Anna said. “But when my father was captain, we jumped at the job because Señor Cofresí pays really well, and we need the money.”

  “Yes, I see…”

  “And,” Anna added, “I don’t think my saints and gods are going to like this trip very much either.”

  “Let’s hope they at least will be still with us.”

  “Yeah, I sure hope so.”

  “Key West,” Max said as if he were trying to remember what he knew about it. “Once known as a playground for the rich and famous. Now a lot of writers and gays hang out there, but it’s got great bars and great music. I’ve been there as a tourist.”

  “About nine hundred miles from Mayaguez,” Anna said. “Three nights and two days one way. We do the rendezvous in the dark on the middle night. It’s a big job, for sure.”

  “Key West has a monument that marks the southernmost point of the US. It’s a real tourist attraction. But that’s just at the end of a street. The real tourist place is Mallory Square. The tourists gather there to drink and watch the sunset over the Gulf. Named after Steven Mallory, Secretary of the Navy…for the Confederacy. He was a hero to South Florida, and a traitor to Yankees like me. A lot of Cubans ended up there after Castro took over in ’69, working in cigar factories near the piers. At some point they outlawed cock fighting and the confining of chickens. They run free all over town, and they hang out in Mallory Square, where the tourists feed them. We’ll feel right at home there.”

  Max suddenly realized that Anna was no longer giving him her full attention. She was focused on the radar screen in front of her. “Look at that,” she said, pointing to the screen.

  Max looked at some blips on an otherwise empty screen. There was a group of five, kind of together at the top, and a single one at the bottom.

  “That group together is the tuna boats,” Anna explained. “But that other one at the bottom is behind us. I’ve been watching it for a while. It’s been trailing us, trying to keep just out of sight, I think. I bet it’s the Coast Guard.”

  “Oh, shit,” Max said.

  “But what we can’t tell is whether they’re out here trailing the tuna fleet or us.”

  Max glanced around. He raised the binoculars and tried the best he could to spot a boat behind them. “Are you sure it’s the Coast Guard?” he asked. “How do we know it’s not just some boat out on a fishing trip? Maybe they think the tuna boats know where the fish are.”

  “Maybe,” Anna agreed. “But the blip is the right size for the Mayaguez Coast Guard boat. Not that we don’t sometimes hire ourselves out for charter fishing trips. I refer tourists who ask at the bar to my father. We do fishing excursions, too. Captain Jim cooks and serves them beer. My father always says a job is a job, and the turistas pay good money. It could be some other bigger boat. I’m reasonably sure it’s not pirates, but I don’t know.”

  “A mystery, then?” Max said. “What do your saints and gods say?” There was silence for a moment.

  “They’re not talking,” Anna said, and they both laughed.

  Then Max became serious again. “So if they’re following us Thursday night, what do we do?”

  Anna thought a moment. “We’ll be well into international waters before we pick up Señor Cofresí’s brother. We can tell Señor Cofresí, and we’ll see what he wants to do.”

  Max smiled. “Anna, you’re a smart gringo too.”

  “Thanks, Max.” Anna returned the smile.

  “Now you’ve got a degree, I don’t know why you don’t have a better job.”

  “Like we all keep saying, times are hard here.” Anna shrugged. “The job market is awful. I sent Señor Cofresí my resume. He’s been avoiding talking about it with me ever since.”

  “Interesting. You know, maybe you’re much more valuable to him as a pilot who can find Cuban boats in the dark.”

  “Could be. But Max, maybe you could mention it to him when you’re at the plant. You know, put in a good word for me.”

  “Perhaps.” Max was thoughtful. “But my family still pretty much does things like they did in the old whaling days. Hiring the crew is left solely to the captain.”

  “Can’t say as I don’t know how all that works,” Anna said. “But when your family bought the plant, did you really give him sole command?”

  “Maybe that’s part of what I’ll have to sort out,” Max said. “All these damn seafaring traditions.” Max shook his head. “When you’re the pilot, you can’t be the cook, and the captain can’t be the cook either. And everybody’s afraid of changing things lest it upset the gods or the old dead sailors’ bones or something. When you’re out tuna fishing with the nets and all, does Captain Jim do all the work?”

  “Oh, we most always hire a couple of young guys, just for the day, to help work the nets,” Anna said. “Captain Jim works with them and supervises.”

  “Young, eligible guys?” Max laughed.

  Anna laughed too. “Well, they might look good and all, but I’ve never met anyone of that kind of guy with enough brains to interest me.”

  “Ah, quite picky, then?” Max said. “I must say I appreciate your taste in men, being as I’m a sort of academic myself.”

  Anna looked around at him. “Are you attached?” she asked. “You could ask me out.”

  “Wow, and quite forward too.”

  “Circles I travel in, you don’t meet many good men.”

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Max said.

  Anna looked back at her instruments and the water in front of them. “What is your story?” she asked.

  Max shrugged. “I’ve had girlfriends off and on for a long time. I’m a free spirit. I’ve never met the one I thought was really the one.”

  “You’re not the only one I’ve heard that from.” Anna said it almost as a complaint.

  “So you think your saints and gods will approve of me?”

  Anna looked around at him again. “Yeah, I already feel they do.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Max said. “But I’ve got a serious job to do here for my family before I dabble in any serious fraternization with my crew. Something tells me I’ll need all your help, and the help of your saints and gods too, before this job here is finished.”

  “Then you’ll just go on back to where you came from?”

  “I suppose.” Max shrugged.

  “Damn, that doesn’t give me—or us—much time, then, does it?”

  “We’ll see.” Max laughed. “We’ll have to see.”

  Anna turned back and focused on the helm. “Okay, then, I’ve showed you the tuna boats your plant hires. I’ve told you what I know that seems not on the up-and-up with Señor Cofresí. I’m going to turn around and head back to our spot at the dock in Mayaguez and leave the rest to you for now.”

  Anna made a wide slow turn to the right and headed the Señorita Anna back the way they had come. She tapped her finger on the radar screen’s blip that indicated the boat behind them. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” she said. “We might j
ust pass by them and see who they are, or they might just follow our turn and stay behind us all the way.”

  “Right. If I didn’t know your story, I might say you once worked for the CIA too.”

  Anna asked, “How do you know I didn’t?” and they both laughed again. “But for right now,” she continued, “I’m going to teach you a few things a captain should know and be able to do.” She pointed to her instruments. “See that compass there? Think you can take the wheel and hold our course while I go and get another coffee, and pee?”

  “Of course,” Max said. “Thank God you’re human like the rest of us, after all.”

  “Right, and my saints and gods will help you keep us on course, I’m sure.”

  They traded places at the helm. Except that the boat was rocking a little up and down and side to side and there was no roadway to follow, it didn’t feel all that different from driving, to Max. “I’m fine,” he said.

  “Good.” Anna smiled. “I could call my father for this. We do need to figure out what the hell the first officer is going to do. One thing I’m sure of, we’ll need to do shifts at the helm for the trip to Key West. I don’t pilot twenty-four seven. Even without a union here, I do get to take breaks, sleep some, and even pee.”

  “Well, I certainly won’t change those rules.”

  “I’ll bring a coffee back for you too, if you want,” Anna offered.

  “Sure. I’m ready for another one now too.”

  Anna went out the wheelhouse door and left Max to his task. He glanced away from the compass to the radar screen. The group of blips that formed the tuna fleet were at the bottom, behind them now, and the solitary one that had been behind had turned away and was going to the side. It was as if they had radar too, and they wanted to be out of sight by the time the Señorita Anna passed by.

  Anna returned relatively quickly with two lidded travel mugs of fresh coffee. “I remembered you drink it black.”

  “That’s a good bartender,” Max complimented her.

  “And good news…”

  Max waited to hear.

  “Captain Jim caught two grouper and a mackerel. He’s cooking one of the grouper for lunch today, and he’s probably going to make mackerel salad for tomorrow. My father took over the fishing line. Maybe he’ll catch something too.”

  “So I won’t have to re-name one of the chickens Stew for our dinner?” Max asked. “A good chicken stew seems more normal than all the international cuisine names I gave them yesterday.”

  “No chicken dinners,” Anna said. “That’s a standing order on this boat, and you said you’ve figured out who’s really in charge.”

  “Yes…right. I mean, aye, aye,” Max said.

  “Besides, Captain Jim’s going to use a little sofrito. He’ll spice it up Puerto Rican style. And he’ll serve it with tostones and arroz con frijoles. Trust me, it’ll be really good.”

  Chapter 7

  It was full daylight when Max fumbled his way out of the cramped captain’s cabin into the galley the next morning. Anna was already up. She was seated at the little table, dressed in her La Salida Bar T-shirt and a different bikini bathing suit bottom than before. Max had put on his good shirt, tie, good shoes, and long pants for the trip to the tuna plant. Cofresí had appeared at the bar in a white suit. Max figured business was business even in Puerto Rico, and it was done on the executive level in business suits. He carried, but did not put on, his jacket.

  “Señor Cofresí’s driver has been waiting for you,” Anna said. “He is up on deck drinking coffee and eating some of our leftover tostones and arroz con frijoles. He is not unhappy at having to wait.”

  Max kind of nodded. His head was far from being clear. It was hot and humid in the cabin, and he felt it was probably even worse outside.

  “Have some arroz con frjoles, and I’ll scramble you some eggs. You should have some coffee, too. You should eat before you go.”

  “Yes, thanks,” Max agreed.

  “In port, I’m still the cook, it seems.”

  “Aye, aye,” Max agreed again.

  “I’m working at the bar today and tomorrow. I’m missing some shifts for the trip to Key West, so I’m trying to work as much as I can.”

  “Ah, I can tell you’re the kind who keeps all her bases covered.” He nodded.

  “That I am.”

  Max sat in silence for a moment while she fixed him scrambled eggs, leftovers, and a mug of steaming black Puerto Rican coffee. He tried to focus his mind on the task of the day that was ahead. “Thanks,” he said when she served him the food.

  Max ate quickly and in silence. He knew people in the Caribbean looked at time differently than mainlanders, but he still didn’t want to keep his driver waiting too long.

  When he was done, Max said, “Okay, thanks again.”

  “So you’re off to the plant to have a look for yourself. Be careful, and I wish you luck.”

  “Thanks, I remember your warning from yesterday, and I hope that wish means your saints and gods will be with me.”

  “Oh, they will be,” Anna assured him.

  Max set down his mug. “Okay then, I’m off. Where is that driver who’s been waiting for me?”

  The driver appeared to understand and speak English very well, but he was basically silent during the ride. Max remained silent as well. He did his best to enjoy the air conditioning and the comfortable back seat of the expensive car. The sky was bright blue again, but the traffic was as crazy as always. The warehouse building they stopped at appeared to be in definite need of repair. They were next to what had to be the main office door. The driver got out, walked around, and opened the car door. The smell of dead fish and hot, muggy air rushed into the car.

  “Señor,” the driver said.

  “Thanks.” Max smiled. He got out and went in the office door. Inside, the smell of dead fish was stronger, and the air felt worse.

  A young woman looked up at him from a seat behind a reception desk. “Señor Max,” she said. “Welcome to the plant.”

  “Thank you…I mean, gracias,” Max said.

  Señor Cofresí appeared from an inner door. He was dressed again in an impeccable white suit with a white shirt open at the neck. “Ah, Max, I am honored that you have come,” he said. He extended his hand and turned a quick handshake into a brief hug. “Come,” he added. “Let me take you through the plant.”

  “Sure.” Max didn’t know what else he was going to do, but that seemed like a very sensible way to get started.

  Cofresí led the way through a door and up a number of steep metal stairs. They were soon on an elevated catwalk that led down the center of a giant room full of loud canning machinery and workers below. The stench was much worse than before.

  As Cofresí moved along, he pointed out various pieces of processing machinery and explained how the fish entered from the pier and progressed to the finished canned tuna product that was loaded onto trucks or cargo boats from the other end of the building. It all seemed very efficient to Max.

  They stopped over some giant vats of what appeared to be chopped light brownish tuna meat.

  “Kind of changes the image of tuna for me,” Max shouted over the noise from the machinery. “It’s not the same feeling as when you’re hungry and pop open a can in the kitchen and whip up a good tuna salad sandwich.”

  Señor Cofresí laughed as he had the night before in the bar. “Welcome to our world, Señor Max.” He pointed. “In the old days, when men we didn’t like from mainland management came down, we would toss them over from just about here.”

  Max looked over the metal rail. There was a big vat of chopped tuna below. Thankfully, he thought, Cofresí must be kidding. He surely knew that the uncles and cousins would come looking for him if he suddenly just disappeared. Even in the heat, though, the thought of ending up in little cans of tuna was chilling.

  Señor Cofresí studied Max’s face for a moment, and he laughed loudly again. “I have frightened you. Come, I will take you to Ms. Par
ker, who will brief you.”

  “Sure, fine,” Max managed to say.

  Cofresí led the way back along the catwalk and down an upstairs hallway. He stopped and knocked on a door.

  “Si?” a young woman’s voice said from the other side.

  Cofresí pushed the door open and gestured for Max to enter.

  The far side of the room he stepped into had big glass windows that looked out over the harbor. The view was of other rundown plants, warehouses, and work boats. Despite the windows, the room was not bright. Ms. Parker stood by one wall where there was a well-stocked bar. Salsa music was playing on a CD player at the end of the bar. The woman was a mainlander, about Anna’s age. She was dressed in a sleeveless flowered dress that had a very short skirt. Like Anna, she was barefoot and had a full tan as if she were frequently outside. The only other furniture in the room was a large overstuffed sofa along the wall opposite the bar.

  Señor Cofresí smiled and gestured to the woman at the bar. “Ms. Parker is my assistant. You like her, no?”

  “What?” Max frowned.

  “I keep telling her she should try out for one of our local beauty pageants,” Cofresí said. “I tell her she could easily be our next Señorita Parque de Bambas.”

  “Señorita Parque de Bambas?” Max repeated.

  “Si, she will brief you on the workings of our plant.” Cofresí gave Max a knowing smile. Then he quickly left the room and shut the door behind him as he left.

  “Ah, Max,” Ms. Parker said. “Let me make you a drink. Señor Cofresí told me to make sure you were completely comfortable before I start giving you the details of our operation.”

  “Comfortable?” Max frowned. “In what way?”

  “Well, in any way I possibly can. Unfortunately, it’s really hot in here. You can take off that suit coat…”