Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

Gutier considered the prospect. “Yes,” he said, “we can certainly manufacture evidence to link him to the explosion. We’ll have a public trial, which would boost anti-American sentiment . . . and assure in the process that Ruiz is disgraced.”

“And it will allow us to proceed with our deal with the North Koreans. But what should we do about the NUMA ship?”

“I have heard of no private inquiries from the American government,” Gutier said.

“Nor has there been any public reaction.”

“Then sink the ship with all hands,” Gutier said. “It would be better not to have a chorus of denials. We can say it was lost in an accident. Or if the Americans resist, we’ll claim it was a CIA ship in our waters supporting Raúl’s assassination and the attempted coup. In the meantime, take a military helicopter to the facility to retrieve the prisoner and I’ll arrange for it to appear as if he was apprehended in the Cayman Islands.”

As Díaz nodded, there came a knock at the door. A portly secretary entered the office with a troubled look on her face. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but there’s been a news report from the Cayman Islands. It seems a boat the president was visiting caught fire and was damaged. There’s speculation that the president may have been injured.”

Gutier nodded at his brother and rose to his feet. “This is terrible news,” he said, escorting the secretary from the office. “We must find out the truth of the matter at once.”

55

The Russian-built Mil Mi-8 helicopter flew in fast over the hills, slowing as it came to the clandestine mining facility. The pilot approached the concrete landing pad and set the chopper down on its center. He let the engines idle as Díaz unstrapped himself and hopped out an open side door.

Molina waited to greet his boss, an armed guard at his side. Díaz turned to peruse the dock as he stepped off the helipad. The barge and tug were gone, replaced by a Liberian-flagged bulk carrier named Algonquin. The shore crew was busy working the dock conveyor, loading uranium ore into the ship’s holds.

“I’m happy to see that the Algonquin has arrived on time,” Díaz said. “The barge is safely away?”

Molina nodded. “The fires were extinguished without incident. She has already met up with the Sea Raker. They should begin laying explosives at the Domingo 2 site within a few hours.”

“Good. Where are the A

mericans?”

“Follow me.” Molina led the way to the open garage on the lower level of the barracks. Pitt and Summer sat on a bench in an empty corner, with two armed guards positioned a few feet in front of them.

Díaz approached with a twisted sense of amusement. “I understand you enjoyed some extracurricular activities while I was gone. Your attempt to damage the barge and dock was futile, I am happy to report. Our excavation will continue unabated.”

“Blowing up those thermal vents will poison the seas for a thousand miles,” Pitt said. “Cuban waters and beaches won’t be immune.”

“You are wrong, Mr. Pitt. The Florida Current will carry it all to American shores. It will be your country’s problem, not mine.”

Pitt gave him a steely gaze. “It will be your problem when the world discovers you caused it intentionally as part of your uranium mining operation.”

Díaz chuckled. “That’s not about to happen, my friend. Now, on your feet.”

The guards jabbed their assault rifles at Pitt. He rose, and Summer followed suit.

Díaz looked at her and shook his head. “I’m afraid you won’t be going with him this time.” He turned to the guards. “You will be escorting him to Havana. The helicopter is waiting.”

Summer looked him in the eye. “Why are you taking him to Havana?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Díaz gave a reptilian grin. “President Castro is dead and your father has been implicated in his assassination. He will be going to Havana to stand trial.”

“That’s absurd!”

“Not at all. Numerous witnesses will place him at the scene.”

Díaz nodded at the guards, who pushed Pitt forward.

Summer stepped in front of the guards and embraced her father.

He gave her a reassuring look as he whispered in her ear to keep calm. But his insides were churning. He had no regard for his own plight, but the last thing he wanted was to leave his daughter behind with Díaz. The guards gave him no choice and he was forced toward the helipad.

Prodded into the helicopter, he was buckled into a bench seat beside the open cargo door. The guards took seats opposite him. One leaned forward and gave the pilot a thumbs-up sign. The rotor spooled up, and a few seconds later the transport helicopter rose into the sky. Pitt looked down in helplessness as he watched Summer being escorted into the office building with Díaz and Molina. Then the mining facility slipped away beneath him, replaced by an empty expanse of blue ocean.