The Kremlin File

Mitzy stopped the Caddy and I had time to look at our guides. They were crouched behind the front seat. I thought they might have been hit by the shots, but both of them straightened. They’d been frightened — and cautious. I got out for the presents Colonel Jerome had handed me. Both his soldiers were dead. I took the uniforms, tossed them in the rear seat, then brought in the rifles. Noah’s men grabbed them like professionals.

I said, “You know how those work?”

They did. They’d been in the palace guard when Fleming was president. That knowledge might come in handy some time. For now, I hung onto the weapons while they dragged the bodies into the brush and left them for whatever hungry cat came along.

The roadblock proved Noah’s information. There was more to the old man than I’d been willing to admit. So Jerome had taken over, just like Noah’d said. I’d better get my thinking gear together and figure out a way to free Fleming. Noah’s credibility also gave me new faith in his guides. Since they’d signed up for the trip anyway, and since they could handle firearms, they might come in handy later, when I had to face down Colonel Jerome.

We made the hotel without being jumped again and Mitzy pulled the Caddy into a ramshackle shed at the back. We went from there to the broken-down lobby.

Mildew and rotting wood stank up the air. Our guides crossed the lobby floor and led us down stairs that creaked and sagged, into the kitchen, a big one with a long wood range against one wall and a work table in the middle. We were not alone. A candle burned on the table and three black men were eating an iguana, a delicacy that made my empty stomach snarl.

There was a lot of fast talking, the exhibiting of the guns and uniforms, congratulations all around, and, finally, introductions. When all the hands were shaken, I found a pan of water in the sink, rinsed the blood off the uniform fronts, then joined the supper party. With the edge off my hunger, I felt a little less like a yoyo at the end of a string of astonishments and disasters. My plate was still half full when the three tribesmen left. I was thankful to see them go. We had battle plans to go over and I didn’t relish unwanted company.

Noah had given me our guides’ names when we first got together, but since I didn’t know the language, I couldn’t remember them. It seemed to me they ran long, with a great many syllables. I didn’t want to offend these men by calling them Tom or Harry, so I explained the problem and asked for help.

The taller one laughed and said, “You can call me Lambie.” He pronounced it with a hard “B.”

Mitzy leaned close to my ear. “Lambie is a big salt-water conche. They eat the meat as an aphrodisiac.”

“It has flair.” I smiled. “Says a lot more than N3 by way of a nickname. And you?” I looked at the other guide.

His lips stretched wide. “Caco.”

“Short enough,” I approved. “What’s that mean?”

He smiled. “A bird of prey. Very fierce.”

“Fine.” I beamed. They were sharp. And they could joke even in the face of taking on the whole island army. Maybe we had some kind of chance.

“You understand that we have to get inside that prison, find Dr. Fleming and take him out alive. But first we must get inside. Does anyone know of any old escape routes prisoners may have dug in the past?” I looked around.

The answer was no. There had been one. They described it. A slender mole hole that ran from a cell to the face of the hill below the foundations. It had been too narrow to turn around in and too steep to allow anyone to crawl backwards to the cell. There was an iron grille across the hillside where the passage opened. A bleached skull pressed against the bars inside and finger bones still wrapped around them. So much for that. I would have to play it by ear and it could be messy.

I said so. “Are you ready to tackle it?”

I got two elaborate shrugs, fatalistic. Caco said quietly. “If Fleming dies, we die anyway. Jerome wants our mountain for his missile station. He will come for it and we have not enough men and too few weapons to stop him.”

More and more I liked Noah’s men. There was no guessing their ages, but their skin was sleek, with good muscle under it, and there was nothing wrong with their coordination. They moved with the grace of jungle cats. I pointed at the uniforms.

“Climb into those. You’ll play the part of soldiers. You’ve captured Mitzy and me and you’ll deliver us at the fort. You’ll tell them Jerome has ordered us locked in with Dr. Fleming, in the same cell.”

The girl’s eyes slitted. I didn’t like putting her life in jeopardy, but our “capture” would be more convincing if she was with us.