Cuban Sun (20 page)

“How the hell did you know that?”

“I’m the daughter of a communications giant, remember? Just because I don’t get along with my father, doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention.”

“You know how to use it?” Quint’s question was redundant as Sofia was already touching pads here and turning tiny dials there.

He saw what she was doing and said, “Wait. Where are you programming the message to go? We have to be careful that it won’t be intercepted.”

“It won’t. I’ve programmed it to hit only Koury Communications satellites.” She sighed then. “It’s going to my father’s cell. I thought about programming it for one of our Miami contacts but I thought this was safer.” She looked at the data programmed in and noticed that she didn’t feel the dread that usually accompanied calls to her father. She felt lighter, freer in calling him. Sofia thought that wasn’t only due to the dire circumstances. She now felt more confident in herself, better able to evenly match her father. Yet, there was something else too. The area of her heart which had long ago frozen with her father inside had thawed slightly. After all, her experiences with her father had been part of what kept her alive and guided her footsteps over the last few weeks. So, with a final look to Quint, she lit a finger on the touchpad and waited for the voice. “Dad, its Sofia. Please don’t talk, just listen. I need your help…”

After touching the tiny pad again Sofia said, “Ok, you heard him. He’ll have someone at those coordinates in an hour. I think it’ll take us at least that long to get there. Then Sofia paused, a question forming. “How did you know to look at the hairpin?”

“I didn’t. I just noticed one of the lilies was bent down. Platinum is so hard, that it wouldn’t have happened unless it was meant to, even with the night you had.” He winked. “And, you’re not the only one who’s made the acquaintance of Mr. Winston. Nothing ever is a single use item.”

Sofia was thankful for Mr. Winston’s foresight, but why had he not told her about it? The question buzzed around her brain while she started programming the device.

Quint gave her a sidelong look as he guided the zodiac slowly from behind the island. He waited for Sofia to enter in the coordinates before speaking.

“You know I had nothing to do with your being taken, don’t you? I didn’t Sofia. I would never….” His voice cracked slightly and he trailed off leaving any number of actions he would never do to fill the space. Sofia’s eyes teared briefly and she blinked them back.

“I know. They tried to tell me you did, but as soon as I saw the Homer book, I knew.” Then she reached into her pocket and brought out the small, ragged book.

His arms flew past the book and grabbed her into an embrace that squeezed the air from her lungs in its intensity. “I love you Sofia. I love you.”

She struggled to speak but couldn’t for the pressure he exerted on her body. She pushed him gently back. When he eased his grip, she gasped for air, making him laugh. He cupped her face as she answered. “I love you too, Quint.”

A long silence followed in which they were able to focus on that one small shining light among the darkness that had overtaken them during the last twelve hours. Finally, Sofia felt she had too many questions to remain silent. “How did they get you?”

“I was following the car they took you in.” He opened his hands wide on his stained jeans. “I wasn’t careful enough though. I suppose Joe told them who I was. They caught up to me, dragged me off the bike, beat me up, and threw me in the cell. I know they would have killed me. I could only think about you being dead, Sofia. I kept trying to think of a way to get you out.” Then he made an impatient gesture. “Until they knocked me out anyway.”

Sofia’s eyes grew dark and hooded as though withdrawing. “They weren’t going to kill me.”

Quint looked surprised. “Why not?” Seeing Sofia’s face he quickly added, “That’s great of course, but after Joe turned you in, why wouldn’t they have killed…oh. Oh my god. They were going to sell you.”

“Right in one.”

Quint’s eyes sparkled with malice. “That son of a bitch better be dead.”

Sofia tried to lighten the moment. She had no urge to relive the rage and fear of the night. “Which one?”

Quint looked annoyed at her attempt at humor.

“Both, damn it.”

“Well, we know Castro’s in critical condition. That’s something.”

Quint shook his head. “Not enough.”

“Well, it will have to do for now. Quint, we need to focus on getting back.”

“You know we won’t be able to go back don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Joe’s still out there. He knows where you and I both live. We’ll go back to Charleston to get a few things and see your roommates safely out of town. Then we’ll need to run. For a while anyway. Would your father help us?”

She had never thought of what would happen after getting home. Home. That was a word she wouldn’t be able to use again. Perhaps not for years. “I- I suppose he would. We could probably hide at one of our family properties but Joe would likely expect that. I don’t want to put my father in danger.” Sofia was surprised to hear the sincerity in her voice. She actually meant it. She didn’t want to see her father come to any harm. She still felt resentment and anger, but it was as though she had been in a rock tumbler and the rough edges of it had worn down, making them smoother, easier to handle.

“I don’t think-“, Quint began but Sofia put up her hand to quiet him. A flicker of annoyance appeared and then, disappeared just as quickly. Quint had caught the same sound she had. Or, not so much as sound as a pulsing feeling in the air. As they looked to the horizon, the pulsing grew louder. A few moments later, they saw the helicopter looming not more than a half mile away. They would be seen in seconds. Quint pushed the motor hard and directed the zodiac toward the nearest cay which was not more than a few rocks and a stand of palm trees. Sofia and Quint had been keeping close to what small islands they found for just such an eventuality. The rocky islands were becoming more and more sparse as they motored into to open water and the closest one was a few hundred yards in front of them.

“Sofia, take this.” Quint guided Sofia’s hand to the motor handle. In the same motion, he drew and readied the pistol.

“We can make it.”

“I’m glad one of us is optimistic.”

They both crouched down further down in the zodiac. They didn’t want to stand out against the horizon any more than they already did. Still, the helicopter was drawing nearer, the sound of the rotor beat in Sofia’s blood like the cadence of a death march. Sofia saw that the boat was drawing near the island. The motor was at full speed. There was nothing more to do than hope they landed before being spotted. As the zodiac drew across the helicopters central view, she saw the nose turn. And the drum beat in her veins froze.

“They’ve seen us!” Quint yelled.

Sofia began weaving the zodiac in a zig zag pattern. If the helicopter began firing, the change in pattern might make them harder to hit. Just as she swung to port, a volley of shots hit the water where Quint’s head had just been. Sofia didn’t look at the helicopter. She kept her eyes focused in tunnel vision toward the island. A few moments later, the bow scraped the pebbled shore. Surrounded by gunfire, Quint and Sofia leapt out and dragged the zodiac into the trees. The shots continued, but they were now under dense foliage which would make it impossible to be accurate.

Sofia, still alarmed turned to Quint. “How can we get out? They can just land and come in after us or use heavier artillery.”

Quint shook his head. “No, they don’t have water landing runners. And I don’t see any heavy guns. Just the side mount automatic. I think we’ll be ok.”

“Until they radio for a patrol boat. Then we’re screwed.”

Quint’s shoulders sagged. “Right….”, then with decision, “right.”

He dashed from the trees with Sofia screaming for him to come back. What the hell did he think he was doing? She heard a shot and ran out to the tree line. Quint was on one knee aiming the pistol at the pilot.

“Aim for the rotor!”, she screamed. It was a more visible target than a person and just as effective. Quint bellowed in pain. Sofia looked back to see a rosette of blood growing on Quint’s chest. A cold rage overwhelmed Sofia. She walked from the trees and dragged Quint the few feet to safety. Not stopping to check him, she took the pistol from his hand and strode out to the sand. All doubt disappeared, replaced by the determination which stilled her aim.

She ignored the shots embedding themselves in the sand around her, took aim and fired at the rotor of the helicopter. Then fired again. And fired again. The last shot hit the mechanism. It ignited and she watched with satisfaction while the helicopter wobbled, growing more and more difficult to control. The shots from the helicopter ceased. Fire spread to the body and it began to lose altitude as the rotor stopped turning. She watched the pilot and gunner jump from the flaming doors.

Their splash jolted her out of the trance. They would be making their way to the island. Sofia was determined not to be there to welcome them. She ran back to the trees to see Quint, still alive. He was sitting up holding his left arm but was conscious and coherent. She quickly ripped a portion of her dress to hold on the wound just under his collarbone. She was relieved to see that the wound was no longer bleeding freely, but had slowed to an ooze. No major vessels had been hit then. Staunching the wound, she briefly related what had just occurred. Then urged Quint to stand.

“Can you walk? We need to get back to the zodiac, if the helicopter crew gets to shore, they may still be able to contact one of the patrol boats.” Quint’s face was white and soaked in sweat but he nodded weakly and forced his legs to move. He stumbled, and nearly fell which ripped the wound open again. He finally made it to the zodiac with significant help from Sofia. She quickly urged the zodiac in the water where Quint sat down heavily. Sofia knew the wound wasn’t fatal, but Quint needed medical attention right away. The padding over the wound was nearly soaked through.

Thirty minutes later, Quint lay in the bottom of the boat unconscious. The zodiac had been running over choppy sea, jostling his arm. The look of agony in his unconscious face told Sofia that his collarbone must be broken. She was also worried that the continued movement would drive the bullet deeper, possibly severing an artery or puncturing his lung. Looking ahead, Sofia’s heart leapt to see their destination no more than another five minutes away.

Just then Quint gasped and grunted. His eyes flew wide and he clutched at the wound then fell rigid onto the floor. His face had a yellowish, waxen look about it and Sofia yelled his name. She yelled over and over, trying to wake him but not daring to remove her hand from the motor handle. They had to make it. She looked at his face again. It held the same discolored rigidity that her mother’s face had worn that night so many years ago. The last minute seemed like an hour. As the zodiac approached, she let go of the rudder and allowed the boat to run aground. Before the boat stopped its skid she was out, sprinting toward the Koury Communications helicopter. In the next moment, the medic was out and running after her. Together they carried Quint and strapped him down in the helicopter even as it was taking off.

Thankfully, the man who Sofia assumed to be a medic was actually an emergency physician from Miami-Dade hospital. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her father’s foresight. Sofia watched as the doctor quickly moved his hand over Quint’s body. He looked up and shook his head.

“I don’t know Miss Koury; it seems the shell has punctured his lung. I can’t do anything except try to stabilize him until we get to Miami.”

“Nothing?!”

“If I try anything invasive here, I could do further damage to his lung. Nor do I have the proper tools like support meds or a crash cart.”

“Crash cart? To revive him. Is that really necessary?”

The medic rubbed a gloved finger under his nose and nodded, “It likely will be. His breathing is shallow and blood is seeping into the lung. Once we get to Miami, I can do a lot more.”

Sofia stared at Quint as the doctor gave the pilot instructions to head for Miami- Dade Hospital rather than the Koury Communications office as previously planned. She reached down and held Quint’s hand while the doctor worked to stabilize him. She clasped it tightly, willing her energy to keep him rooted to his body.

EIGHTEEN

At Miami Dade Medical Center, the pilots helped the doctor to rush Quint into surgery. Sofia was impressed with the pilots’ adaptability as they were normally only required to pick up executives and take them to this or that meeting. Sofia watched the hospital staff swarm around Quint while the gurney wheeled almost recklessly toward the emergency room. She kept her eyes on him even after the doors swung shut in her face. Finally, after several minutes, a nurse took her by the shoulders and led her to the surgery waiting room. Sofia sank into one of the plastic chairs and felt a warm cup of coffee being placed into her hand. She murmured some politeness and then sipped the bitter liquid just for something to do.

An hour later Sofia still held the empty Styrofoam cup, staring into nothing. She kept replaying the last twenty four hours over and over in her mind. How could Joe have done this? Taken her friend and now, possibly, her Love too. She sent a fervent thank you to her father, something she thought never to do. She had given him the one minute version of events during their call and he had not only sent the helicopter, but instructed his security detail to get her roommates out of the apartment in Charleston just in case Joe or his henchmen showed up there. Nobody outside of Koury Communications and the hospital staff yet knew that Sofia and Quint were here so she felt relatively safe, if uncomfortable, in the molded plastic chairs of the waiting room . She mulled over possible next steps for what felt like hours in that hard chair until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Attached to the hand was the doctor who had flown with them from Cuba. She stared at his face, trying to see some answer, some sign of what had happened. Nothing. Doctors must have the same gift she had of hiding emotion when needed. He replaced her empty cup with a fresh cup of coffee.