Big Smoke

by R. F. Blackstone

  Before Adriana could reply, she had been grabbed by the hair and forcefully dragged back into the main room. Christine flung her into a chair.

  Adriana was back on her feet with her fists up.

  “What the fuck was that, you stupid cunt?”

  Christine took a moment and breathed in. Slowly, she turned to face Adriana. “That body in there was CI. You should know that.”

  “You attack me because I don’t know some low-level lackey? Grow the fuck up, Chris.” Adriana laughed. “You should know by now that not everyone in an agency knows someone else. It’s the way of the fucking world.”

  “Then tell me something,” Christine said as she started to look around the restaurant.

  “Hang on,” Adriana said, cutting her off. “What are you doing?”

  Christine stopped turned and stared daggers at the Cuban. “Looking for clues. Now, you want to help?”

  Adriana nodded and the two of them started to rummage through the wreckage. “Why would a concierge be murdered?” Adriana asked herself.

  “Probably knew something he wasn’t supposed to.”

  “But what?” Adriana’s tone wasn’t that of someone needing to know a secret; more of someone hoping to stop a secret from getting out.

  “If I knew,” Christine replied, “then I wouldn’t be looking through a trash bin.”

  They continued searching in the kitchen. “Let’s look at this logically,” began Adriana. “He was CI, right? He worked at the Nacional where a lot of important people stayed. He’d have access to lots of dirty secrets. Maybe he saw or heard something he shouldn’t have.”

  “Doubt it,” Christine replied as she started to make her way to the back room.

  “Where you going?”

  Christine didn’t turn her head as she said, “Checking the body. Might be something there.”

  Adriana rushed to follow the woman.

  When she got there, she saw Christine, all business, pulling the body away from the pile. It was hard work and by the end of it Christine was sweating. “Why don’t you check the other bodies?” she said as she started to check Rafael’s pockets.

  With deliberate slowness, Adriana went to the first body she could find and made a show of checking it. Her eyes never left Christine’s hands. “What if we don’t find anything? I should call this in and get the policia involved. You’re leaving clues everywhere and if they suspect you—”

  “What do we have here?” Christine asked as she held up a small notebook. Adriana watched as Christine flipped the book open to the felt marker. Christine read the page, blinked, reread it, and blinked once more then turned to Adriana.

  “Spill it. Now,” she said as she held up the book for Adriana to see.

  It read:

  Guantánamo es un callejón sin salida.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “So while you were having fun gallivanting around Pinar del Rio,” Adriana started as they sat on the front step, both puffing away on cigars, “I made the long, long trip to the Bay. Have you been? It’s really quite lovely. If you ignore the military compound that is,” she giggled, trying to lighten the mood. Christine stared out into the inky darkness.

  Adriana cleared her throat and took another draw on the stogie then continued. “So, I get there, and there are military police everywhere. I’ve never seen so many big men with weapons in my life.” An evil grin spread across her face.

  “Focus, Adriana.”

  “Oh, si. Naturalmente… As I was saying. Military police all over, so I need to figure out how to get in.”

  “What about your contact?”

  Adriana blinked. “Well, I had no idea if he was there. Either way, I would have to improvise and you know how much I love to do that,” she chuckled as Christine rolled her eyes. “There aren’t many ways to get in without an official ID and since CI is a clandestine agency, I couldn’t very well just tell them who I am. Also doesn’t help what with the Bay technically being US land. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy, believe you me.”

  “Get on with it,” Christine snapped.

  “Testy today, aren’t we?” Adriana replied. “Are we sure it isn’t that special time?”

  “You know what,” Christine asked as she stood. “I don’t need your shit. Now or ever. If you are not going to get to the point and tell me…fine! I’ll go myself.” She stood before the Cuban spy, nostrils flaring, barely controlling her frustrations. Adriana giggled, then laughed. Christine could not believe it.

  “Bravo!” Adriana clapped loudly. “An amazing performance. No really. Better than Gabo. Take a bow.” She shook her head. “Jesus, Christine. You really have forgotten how things are done Cuba.”

  “You fuck me and then fuck me over. I remember clearly.” Christine’s tone was flat.

  Adriana flinched. “Not that…sorry…maldita sea…you know…” She stopped talking, closed her eyes then took a deep breath. “What I meant was that us Cubans love telling a good story.”

  “I don’t have time for a story. I need the facts.”

  “Can we get out of here,” Adriana said, deflecting Christine’s statement. “The policia should really take care of this… How about the Nacional?”

  Christine shook her head. “The facts. Now.”

  Adriana sighed then stared at her cigar. “Fine. But first, I never fucked you over.”

  Christine scoffed. “Really?”

  “We all have to do shitty things for the job. You too. Don’t pretend that you are the innocent in all this. I did what I had to do for my country.”

  “Bullshit,” Christine cut in. “You did what you had to do for money. Cold hard cash. Provided by Jeremiah Banks. Why? Tell me that!”

  Adriana sat there, her eyes big and watery. Christine paced up and down the small garden. The cigar acting like a chimney for her. “Why else? To get ahead in life.”

  “But my men! My reputation!” Christine tried to sound indignant but deep down she knew that Adriana was right. She would have done the exact same thing, on orders or on her own. This was a nasty business to be involved in and each year it seemed to be getting worse for Christine.

  Adriana looked as if she could read Christine’s thoughts. “You would have done the same.”

  Christine took what could be counted as an eternity before she slowly nodded her head. The other woman smiled slightly. A minor victory is still a victory.

  “Sit, Chris,” Adriana said, patting the spot next to her. “You’re going to like this. Or hate it.” She smiled properly as Christine almost collapsed next to her.

  “I won’t bore you with how I got in…unless you want to know? Well, to sum it up, I told them I worked for the Cuban Government as their liaison between the FBI and CI. They didn’t believe me at first. The guards looked as if they were going to throw me into one of those cells they use for rendition.” She shuddered slightly. “I put on my best smile, you know the one. Big moist, ruby red lips. Completely inviting. I told them to call the Cuban Minister of Defense and ask him if a Teresa Guadalupe Luna was conducting inspections during the President’s visit. They did.” She held up the cigar and stared at the ash. Gently, she tapped the wrapper, and the ash floated to the ground where it disappeared.

  “That is the stupidest name I have ever heard!” Christine finally laughed. “Like something out of James Bond.”

  “Well, it worked. They called the Minister who was having lunch with Juan at the time so everything went like clockwork. They let me in and had some young administration officer play tour guide. This poor man didn’t know anything about the facility, just all the usual PR lies. So, I had to ditch him.”

  “Naturally.”

  Adriana nodded. “I fed him some bull about women problems and he led me to the toilet. I went in, waited the appropriate amount of time, and then asked him for assistance. The dummy actually came in. Then I used my feminine wiles to distract him, stole his security card, and sent him back to the office with a smile and a kiss. Brilliant tactic, w
ouldn’t you say?”

  Christine shook her head. “I wouldn’t. This sounds too easy. Even by gringo standards.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too, but then my Abuelo’s saying came to mind. ‘Suspicion leads to loneliness and a dead dog.’ He was an odd man. But anyway… Where was I? Oh, si! After ditching the boy, I had to get to the lower levels. They aren’t on any maps, but CI has the original blueprints. Did you know Cuba used to get paid by the US for the land Guantanamo is on? Like renting. Fidel told them to go fuck themselves.”

  “Adriana,” Christine said, “stay on target.”

  “Si si si si si. The lower levels. I was able to get past the security cameras and most of them, but there were two of the biggest baddest Danny Trejoest guards you have ever seen and they were always behind me. It got really annoying after a while. Once I got to an elevator, it was fine. Used the card and went straight to the sub-basement. According to the blueprints in the late 70s, the gringos built another base on top of the old bunker embedded in the ground. I know! It’s all so fascinating. So, they built this base on top of where the nukes were supposed to be.”

  “What do you mean ‘supposed to be,’” Christine asked. Her eyes narrowed as she jumped ahead, figuring out the ending before the final reel.

  “Well, the rumors of WMDs at the Bay is laughable to begin with. Who would plant bombs here? The Russians? Well maybe.” She pulled a face. “The gringos? I doubt it. See, CI has never put much stock in the tales of WMDs but, because of our relationship with The Station, we had to go and check it out. Just for you, really.”

  “I’m honored.”

  Adriana chuckled and stood. “You hungry? How about we get some food?”

  “After you finish your report.”

  “So serious. Well, I got to the sub-basement and spent the longest time tapping on the walls, looking for any cracks with hints of air flow. I was getting bored, Chris. I couldn’t find any traces of secret rooms, launch areas, nukes, or biological weapons.” Adriana shook her head. “I’m sorry but there are no WMDs on Cuba.”

  Christine stood up. “Bullshit! Really?”

  “En serio. I even spoke to my contact who sent me every old document to go through. That’s what I was doing before I got the call to come here. Never in the history…well, except the Missile Crisis, has there been any nuclear devices on the island. The old bunker at Guantanamo was a granary. Then when the US moved in, they realized what they had on their hands and…” She held her hands up; the story was over.

  “Damnit!” Christine said. “What’s his game?”

  “Whose?”

  “Jeremiah Banks! If it isn’t nukes, then why would he want to assassinate the President… is there even a plot?”

  Adriana stood up then took the other woman’s hands. “You need to take a moment, Chris. When was the last time you ate?”

  #

  “Eaten,” Christine repeated, surprised at the audacity of the question. “We are standing in front of a massacre and you want me to eat?”

  “Tranquilo,” Adriana started to say but a moan from inside Papa’s stopped her. “What was that?”

  Again, the moan sounded, but this time they could tell where it came from. Christine and Adriana exchanged startled looks. “Kitchen,” Adriana whispered.

  Christine’s eyes grew wide. “Rafael?”

  They both trampled into the building, their cigars dropping on to the ground, forgotten. As they passed the main dining room, Christine saw, from her peripheral, that some of the bodies were twitching slightly. No time for that, she told herself. Her primary target was checking on her friend.

  In the kitchen, Christine nearly knocked over Adriana. “What the fuck, Adri—?” she stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look of absolute horror on the Cuban woman’s face. She was pointing at something and when Christine’s gaze followed it, she too almost screamed.

  For trying to free itself from the pile of now writhing and moaning bodies was Rafael. At least, it looked like him. The structure of the face, apart for the pulpy nose, was his, as were the clothes. But the eyes, they were definitely not his. Where once there was life and joy now only blank nothingness and hunger showed.

  “What the fuck?” Christine whispered as the creature continued to crawl towards the two ladies. The fingernails were cracked and each time it dragged itself, the nails became more and more cracked and ruined until one by one they were torn off.

  “You don’t see that every day,” Adriana commented as she studied the crawling corpse.

  “So far I have. Twice.”

  The Cuban chuckled as she bent down. She tilted her head and looked into the face of the undead manager of the Hotel Nacional. “Anyone in there?”

  A snarl escaped from the mouth and then with flapping of arms, it popped free of the pile, which caused the rest of the bodies to shudder and collapse, spreading across the floor. Instinctively, Christine stepped backwards as Adriana stayed exactly where she was. Slowly, Rafael’s corpse shambled to its feet and stood unsteadily, swaying slightly. The head tilted to the side as if it was questioning everything it was seeing. The pale skin was almost translucent and the veins were visible. The eyes were nothing more now than orbs of pale gray.

  “Rafael,” Christine whispered softly in despair. At the sound of his name, the undead man turned his head towards her. Something must’ve clicked in the remains of the brain and step by shaky step, the creature went for Christine.

  Adriana stood up and moved in front of the disgusting creature. The walking corpse’s hair was matted down and the skin seemed to ooze liquid. “¿Dónde crees que vas, señor,” she asked, trying to sound authoritative.

  An arm came up and lazily swiped at her. There was a dull thwack and Adriana was on the ground. As Rafael continued to shamble towards Christine, Adriana rubbed her face then uttered an oath. The other bodies were trembling and starting to moan.

  “Get off,” Christine cried out as she fought Rafael. For a creature that moments earlier was dead, he was surprisingly strong.

  Christine was moving backwards while pushing the thing away. Adriana was struggling to her feet; the hit had caused her to see stars and then she reached up and felt it.

  Rafael had Christine up against a wall and his bloodied fingers were clawing at her flesh; his face bent at an odd angle, trying to taste the flesh. “Fucking do something, bitch,” she cried out in pain and panic. Her training was out the door. There was nothing that Christine could remember about fighting a foe that was dead and now trying to eat her. Instinctively, she slammed her head into his face.

  The undead man stumbled back slightly as it shook its head, which was now at an almost right angle, the vertebrae sticking out of torn skin and dark thick blood oozed out of the wound. Christine smiled to herself triumphantly then quickly brought her arms up.

  The metal blade flashed twice, up and down. An unpleasant thwump was followed by blood spurting and hitting the walls then the two arms flopped to the ground. The cuts were clean but bone stumps were left. Adriana spun the blade like a gunfighter. “How was that?”

  “He ain’t dead yet,” Christine exclaimed as the armless being shambled towards her again. With a hard shove from Christine, Rafael spun sharply.

  The butcher knife found itself embedded in the cranium of the undead thing. A small moan that sounded more like a sigh came from the slack-jawed face as the eyes rolled up into the sockets and blood dripped down from the wound.

  As the body collapsed, Adriana and Christine exchanged worried glances. Quickly, Adriana wrenched the blade free then brought it down another two times until she was satisfied that Rafael would never get back up. “Now,” she said happily, “how about some food?”

  #

  “What the fuck is happening?” Christine gasped once they were outside Papa’s. She was bent over and having trouble breathing. Adriana, on the other hand, was calm, cool, and collected. Her eyes were darting from the building filled with moaning to the street. She was hoping that
nobody was about to witness this.

  “Adriana?”

  “Something out of a bad movie,” Adriana said with a small chuckle. She had no idea what to make of the attack.

  Christine shook her head. “I’ve been seeing odd things all over. On the radio earlier, I heard that—”

  “Not here,” Adriana shushed her as she spotted a street food vendor. “Wait here.”

  #

  The Cubano sandwich is one of the greatest pieces of food to ever come out of the Caribbean. Nearly everyone who has one can never have a sandwich, grilled or otherwise, without comparing it to this. This grilled piece of heaven is found all over the world, usually named Cubano, though in Mexico it is called Torta Cubano, which is still the same thing. Every restaurant and street vendor in Havana sells it and is well worth the money. Christine and Adriana watched the chef construct the sandwich while they sipped colas.

  On top of a slice of pan Cubano, smear yellow mustard then add slices of ham, mojo pork, cheese, and pickles. Then on another slice, smear more yellow mustard, put together and paint the top slice with melted butter. After all this, you can use either a sandwich press or a grill. On the grill, place the sandwich and then using a cast-iron pan press down. Flip after the cheese has started to melt. The cheese had started to melt when the chef quickly flipped the sandwich. The top was now on the grill and sizzling nicely. The women watched, licking their lips, as the chef took the now perfectly grilled sandwich, slice it diagonally then smacked it down onto a plate. He handed it to them with a nod.

  “Gracias,” said Christine as she handed a plate to Adriana, “pero un order de yucca fries. Por favor.”

  The chef nodded and set to work making the yucca fries, the second best food in Cuba. As he did, the two spies sat on a bench and watched the scene across the road.

  What had happened was that after they had placed their order, Adriana had gotten onto the policia, leaving a message saying there had been a murder at Papa’s and that one of the victims was the concierge of the Nacional. It hadn’t taken long for the policia, ambulancia, and other officials to arrive on the scene.