The Plot (27 page)

Joshua would be coming out to check on him, wondering why he hadn't come inside yet.
Man. That's all I'd need.
We'd
need,
he corrected himself. He had to find the other man before that happened. The smell of thick boot polish brought Daniel to a halt.
You can always count on those polished boots
. He sniffed the air and squinted through the darkness. It was somewhere off to his right. Not very far.

Inching forward at an angle, Daniel was sure the smell was growing stronger but still couldn't see the source. As he moved along the ground bit by little bit, stopping to test the air every few seconds, the scent grew stronger. A couple of yards from the far wall, where light from the dining room window spilled out onto the grass, Daniel stopped dead. The back of a tall, black boot topped by loose fatigue pants was silhouetted against the dim light.
He's leaning his other foot against the side of the house
.

A thought formed in his mind, and he moved forward as fast as silence would allow. He wasn't the only trained soldier in this struggle and respecting the enemy was key to survival. Less than ten inches away, he reached for his knife, felt its weight in his hand, and took a deep breath. With all his force, he struck, slicing through the thick boot and Achilles tendon in one blow. His enemy crumpled to the ground, and Daniel reached out as swift as a snake, grabbed the man's hair, jerked his head upward, and slit his throat.

The man struggled to sit up. He turned toward Daniel's hiding place. Aimed his weapon. The gash in his neck spewed blood down the front of his shirt, onto his pants, his arms, his hands. He wobbled and fell backward. The rifle fell to the ground. His arms flailed the air-a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. He shuddered and was still.

Daniel rolled over and lay back on the hard earth, aware of the coursing of his own blood through his veins, the tingling of every nerve in his body, his sheer
aliveness.
There was no other feeling like it in the world. It's what had kept him in the Army for ten years. And it was why he'd mustered out. There was no satisfaction in collecting garbage in some nothing country. As the adrenalin filtered from his bloodstream, he crawled from under the house and stood to look down at the lifeless man at his feet, then picked up the rare AR-30 lying in the grass. It was one of the lightest, most accurate automatic weapons yet manufactured and would be a welcome addition to their arsenal.

At the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, Daniel spun around, rifle at the ready. It was Joshua. A dark bruise was forming on his fat right cheek from the rifle barrel the Feds had pressed against it.

"What's goin’ on?” Joshua asked, staring wide-eyed at the still form lying on the ground.

"They left a couple of ‘em here,” he said, almost in a whisper. “The other one is over there.” He gestured toward the far side of the house. “Have Lourdes go tell St. Joan and the others it's safe to come back, but they need to hurry. We're gonna have t’ clear outta here for good. It won't be long before these guys'll be missed. They're sure to have a set time to check in with their C.O.” He handed the AR-30 to Joshua, who nodded and hurried toward the front porch, carrying the assault rifle over his shoulder like a soldier in a parade.

Daniel watched him disappear around the corner, then reached down and grabbed the dead man's legs, dragging him toward the cornfield.

The silvery moon was settling low over the water when Cassie and Selena took their belongings from the back of Lourdes’ station wagon, bid her Godspeed, and started toward the narrow dock, where a dark-haired, brown-skinned man in dungarees and stained white T-shirt waited. The yellow glow from a light attached to a tall piling lit their way, and a boat about thirty feet long quivered in the water behind him. The name “
Esperanza
” was painted across its stern, beneath it, “
Apalachicola, Florida
."

"
Hola
, Carlos,” Selena said, handing him her bags. “
Esta es mi amiga
, Godiva,” she added, pointing toward Cassie.

"
Mucho gusto
,” the tall man replied, nodding in Cassie's direction as he helped Selena down the makeshift ramp into the boat.

Cassie, who knew little Spanish other than what Selena had taught her, just nodded and gave him her belongings, then stepped down onto the deck.

Selena had explained on the way here that Carlos was an old friend from Cuba, whose family had helped her return to the United States after her brief exile. They had crossed the Florida Straits together in his family's small boat. It had been a nightmare. They'd been shot at by the Cuban “Navy,” which consisted of fishing yachts converted to patrol boats. They had lost two of their fellow travelers overboard and nearly capsized in a torrential thunderstorm. Her parents had taken Carlos and his family into their home for nearly a year, helped them find work, and taught them English in return for their having brought Selena safely home. Now, he made his living as a commercial fisherman and charter boat captain on the waters of the Gulf of Mexico-like many others who lived in the small, historic town of Apalachicola.

Tension was tight in her neck and shoulders, and Cassie sank gratefully onto the port side chair, rubbing her forehead to stave off a headache. The salt air was warm, and the smell of fish that clung to the deck of
Esperanza
filled Cassie's nostrils. She would be glad when they got going and the breeze carried the odor away.

While Carlos stowed their belongings in the cabin, Cassie thought of her father's love of fishing. He'd caught a blue marlin once during a trip to Pensacola and never tired of talking about it to anyone willing to listen. Cassie had heard the story so often, she could tell it herself. Maybe she'd share it with Carlos. Maybe Selena already had.

Selena was sitting in the mate's chair when Carlos emerged from the cabin, took his place at the helm, and started the motor, which roared to life amid a cloud of thick diesel fumes that threatened to turn Cassie's stomach. She tried not to breathe as he backed the boat into the thick black smoke, then gulped the fresh air that blew into her face when they started forward. She heard Carlos chuckle in her direction and realized she was not the first to react this way.

The sea was smooth, and
Esperanza
sliced through it like scissors through silk. The moon cast a rippling white path across the water in the distance, and Cassie found herself wondering whether Max was looking at this same moon. She looked at her watch.
Fat chance. No one in his right mind would be up at this hour, and from all I've seen, Max is definitely well-grounded in his right mind.
She smiled a little in spite of herself. A few weeks ago, she was running around D.C. in her Mercedes complaining about her boss and wishing Congress would take their recess so things would settle down. She hadn't even known Max existed. If she had, she wouldn't have cared. Now, he was in her thoughts almost as much as the priceless cargo hidden in her suitcase.

Selena's voice interrupted her thoughts. “It has been quite a night,
Querida
. Are you okay?” she asked, sitting down on the opposite chair.

"Yeah to both,” Cassie replied. “Selena? What does
'Esperanza
’ mean?"

"Hope."

Cassie nodded. “That's about all we have left. The question is, now what?"

"Carlos will take us to Tampa. He says it will take us most of the day to get there, longer if the weather turns bad.” She sounded tired, discouraged even.

"I mean, after we get there."

Selena sighed and looked up at the stars. “You will go home, try to find a publisher for your father's book, and do everything you can to expose the conspiracy before the November elections. I-well-I'll just fade into the background again and pray."

"Where will you go?"

"Somewhere. Wherever. There are many of us, you know. Almost as many as the stars you see above you. They will hide me, just as they will take care of Joshua, Aggie, and the others. But it is not we, but you, who is important, Cassie. Only you can stand in Madison's stead and speak with his authority. And when you do, we will rally behind you."

"Selena?"

"Yes,
Querida
."

"I'm scared. What if the Feds catch me? What if no one believes me? What if...?"

Selena turned toward her. “Of course, you are frightened, Cassie. We all are. Your father was so terrified he could hardly sleep the night before he returned to Washington. The night before..."

Cassie heard Selena's voice break and decided she had to ask. “Selena, I can't help wondering if, well, if you and Daddy were—"

"Lovers? Does it matter?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. But, Mother was so certain that there was nothing other than friendship between you. I don't want to believe she was wrong. But I think I have a right to know the truth."

Selena's throaty laugh surprised Cassie, made her wince. “What's so funny?” She sounded like a petulant child even to herself.

"Oh,
Querida
,” Selena said, catching her breath. “Your father was so in love with your mother, I couldn't have pried him away from her even if I had wanted to.” She hesitated, then continued. “But in all honesty, I admired your father greatly. He was a wonderful, talented, even funny man, who knew all the right things to say and all the right things to do. And he was terribly ... eh ...
empty
after your mother passed away. He needed someone, and he turned to me. So, I guess in our own way, we were
lovers,
but never
in
love with one another."

"Lovers but not lovers. Now that makes a hell of a lot of sense,” Cassie snapped.

Selena reached across the narrow space between their chairs and put her hand on Cassie's. “Think about it this way. Your father and I were lovers of the same things. We also loved one another very deeply. But ours was never a physical relationship. We were content in one another's company. We understood each other. We respected each other. It was nothing like what you felt for Alan. Nor, I suspect, what you have begun to feel toward your Max Henshaw."

It was Cassie's turn to look up at the stars, but they were beginning to fade in the slowly emerging dawn. Max and Alan. Alan had been so handsome with his blonde hair and straight nose, his blue-green eyes and full lips that never stopped smiling ... She shook her head against the memory, turning her thoughts to Max, who hardly seemed to smile at all. When he did, it was special. Something to remember. And he wasn't really handsome at all. His dark eyes were unremarkable, except when he became deadly serious, and his chestnut hair was just sort of ... there. Of course, he could be called good looking-in a rugged sort of way. But, no. It wasn't Max's looks that she thought about when she thought of him. It was the way he treated her, the way he just sort of knew what to do and then did it. He made her feel safe-and, she suddenly realized,
wanted
.

"Selena? How do
you
keep from feeling afraid?” she asked, wondering if losing Daddy had made Selena feel less certain, less safe.

"I don't. I am always frightened. I know that if they catch me, they will railroad me, trump up charges of espionage, and imprison me. Maybe even execute me. But the prospect of Penseur-of J. Harold Otis and Hamilton Bates and all the rest of them-succeeding is even more frightening. Imagine a life without liberty, Cassie. Where everything we say, do, even
think
is controlled by someone who neither knows us nor cares to know us. We have seen that kind of government. My parents and I ... Carlos,” she nodded in the captain's direction, “and hundreds of thousands of others fled Cuba for that very reason. You just can't imagine what it is like to live like that, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

Cassie had never heard Selena more passionate, and she cursed her own cowardice. After all, she had her father's name and reputation to lean on, and, not least of all, she had irrefutable evidence that the conspiracy was not only real, but very close to reshaping the world in the image of those who would play God. The memory of her father's voice as he sang “The Impossible Dream” echoed in her mind and filled her with a sense of
rightness
that crowded out the fear that had been building in her since they'd fled from Joshua's house.

Selena had taken her hand away and fallen silent, no doubt lost in her own thoughts. Cassie leaned deeper into the chair and felt the tension leave her body as the motor churned through the water and the cloudless sky turned from gray to gold in advance of the rising sun.

Carlos glanced back over his shoulder at the two women behind him. The young one, Godiva, looked as though she was sleeping, but Selena appeared not only awake but alert to everything around her. It was a habit formed early by children in Cuba, especially those who'd lived during Castro's early years, and it was a habit that served them well.

He thought about the call from Selena at a little past three o'clock this morning. Despite his concern about making the long trip to Tampa on such short notice, he couldn't say no to her plea for help. In the short time between her call and her arrival with her friend at the dock, he'd had just enough time to plot the course, gather food, and load his equipment. Fortunately, he'd topped off the fuel tank earlier, so they should be able to make it all the way without stopping, and the marine weather forecast had reported calm seas with light, variable winds. There was a slight chance of showers near Cedar Key, but, hopefully, he'd be able to steer around them. When he turned to face forward again and checked his compass heading, Selena's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Carlos?"

He looked over his shoulder to see her making her way toward him and motioned for her to sit in the mate's seat. “
Sí
, Selena?"

"Let's speak English, okay? I don't want Godiva to feel that we are hiding anything,” she suggested. He nodded, and she continued, “I want to thank you again for helping us. You know I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't necessary."