Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

Kelly pursed his lips and was quiet for a moment. “So, on the one hand if she is to get the intelligence CS wants, she must go south, but on the other hand it is logically inconsistent for her cover to be in that location,” he said.

“That, Dan,” said Barrio, “is the dilemma.”

“So, what the hell are the Soviets doing here anyway?” asked Kelly. “I thought that Socarras was vehemently anti-communist?”

“And he is,” answered Barrio, “but he also has the dilemma. He knows that the Americans will engineer Batista back into power unless he has a bargaining chip. His bargaining chip is playing brinkmanship with the Soviets and threatening a pact that would blow the US plans out of the water.”

Barrio spread his arms and rolled his eyes upward. “But at the same time,” he continued, “he is scared stiff of the increasing influence of the communists such as Castro and friends, so he has armed bands of thugs wandering the streets, outside of the normal confines of law and order, to keep the communists repressed.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I tell you; this place is going to explode. My guess is that the Americans will get their way and Batista will return, but I suspect he will not reign for long.”

“I will also be going south tomorrow,” said Kelly. “Do we have any contacts in Santiago?”

Barrio hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yes, we have Diego Diez. He is a barman at the Bar San Carlos. It’s the perfect cover as it’s a meeting place for the comrades …”

“But ...?” said Kelly.

“I don’t trust him. He’s allowed himself to be drawn in too deep.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Kelly rose and stretched out his hand. The Cuban took it and shook it vigorously.

“Be careful, Dan. At the moment it’s impossible to say who is on whose side. The whole picture is shifting daily.”

Kelly walked back along the corridor, down the stairs and out into the street where the sun was waning, and shadows were appearing. It occurred to him that the whole of Cuba was becoming a land of shadows. He looked at the people he passed as he walked back to the hotel, Russian spy, American agent, Batista supporter, Socarras henchman … perhaps even British spy. Who was to know? Or perhaps just an average Cuban citizen hoping for a brighter and clearer future.

That might be some way off, thought Dragan Kelly.

Peregrine

The journey to Santiago de Cuba by train had been long and at times tedious, but, thankfully, with only one change at Camaguey. The scenery at first had held his interest.

As they pulled out of Havana, they moved through a region heavy with industrial complexes, then almost instantaneously, seemingly without transition, through an area of scattered tobacco plantations, followed by field after field of sugar cane. As they trundled past a mill, clattering over points which allowed the freight trains to enter the complex to pick up the refined sugar, Kelly was astonished at the vast areas of the crop.

Occasionally they would leave the sugar and enter open areas of unfenced grassland, with cattle grazing freely, then back into the sugar cane again. As they approached Camaguey, they again travelled through tobacco crops and briefly through a coffee plantation. After the change at Camaguey the scenery repeated itself, but with more patches of open savannah. It had been pleasant at first, but he tired of it after a while and was glad when, late in the afternoon, he was able to alight from the train and secure a cab to his hotel, the unimaginatively named Hotel Santiago.

The woman he had spoken to on the phone the day before was off duty, but her replacement was extremely accommodating and chatted with him in fair English, albeit with a distinct American accent. She smiled as she found his booking form and removed the car keys attached to it by a treasury tag.

“Your car is out the front, senor. You did say you would prefer the economy deal?” The smile and the slight inflection in her voice made Kelly suspicious. He looked at her quizzically, nodded in affirmation and raised his eyebrows. “Good!” was her only comment as she handed him the keys and the associated paperwork.

Kelly read as much of the document as he could before signing in a half dozen places as indicated by crosses next to blank spaces. His train of thought was then distracted by the next pile of forms necessary to register in the hotel.

On completion, Kelly paid for the car in cash and picked up the car keys and the room key, dropping both into his pocket. He exchanged small talk with the receptionist, and then asked her about the Bar San Carlos. She looked surprised.

“Is not a good place senor, full of students and … communists.” She turned her mouth down as she said it. Kelly explained that he sold educational equipment and textbooks and hence he needed to mix with students to interest them in his goods.

“I understand, senor.” She looked anything but convinced, but explained in detail how to find the place. He understood her reluctance to direct him to the bar, it sounded as if it was located in a very seedy part of the town.

Kelly changed quickly into dark casual clothes without showering. On impulse he rummaged in the bottom of his case and produced the Walther 9 mm pistol given to him by McFarlane. He smiled as he remembered having to sign for it in triplicate, and then sign another book for the ammunition. Apparently, the Secret Service was every bit as bureaucratic as its Civil Service counterpart. He also remembered McFarlane’s warning: “I am not expecting you to use this, Dan. It is purely for your own protection and may be used only in the most extreme of circumstances!”

He quickly loaded the weapon, made sure it was on safe, and then tucked it into the rear waistband of his trousers,