Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,55

far from her camera bag and the film reel it concealed.

The room that Emiliano led Jackie into was almost as large as the ballroom below. Unlike the room on the third floor, though, this one was as dark as the other one was light. Its windows were shuttered, and there didn’t seem to be any exit other than the one they had just come through. One end of the room was piled high with ballroom chairs that had been taken down to accommodate those assembled here. They had grouped themselves in a semicircle around a speaker who wore a white muslin dress. It took a moment for Jackie to recognize her as Rosario, the blond-haired beauty who had rescued her from Three Stooges at the crocodile farm.

Emiliano sat in a chair at the back of the semicircle and patted the one next to him for Jackie to take. But Jackie held up one finger—indicating to him to wait “one minute”—and sidled over to the nearest window, where she opened the shuttered blinds and looked out. She saw that there was a fire escape leading down to the alley below. This was standard CIA protocol she had been taught at the Farm. Never enter a room without taking note of all possible points of egress. In an emergency, just such foreknowledge could save your life.

Jackie went to check out the other set of windows but found her arm captured by Emiliano, who silently urged her to take a seat—and at once. Jackie did so with a slight shrug of the shoulders to indicate that she was doing so under minimal protest. She sat there and listened as Rosario, standing at the front of the group, read off a list of offenses that El Presidente had committed since seizing office earlier in the year.

As Rosario continued, Jackie took the opportunity to examine those seated around her. They all seemed to be her age, in their early to mid-twenties. But judging by how varied they were in their demeanor and mode of dress, Jackie saw that they were a diverse group of men and women—workers and college graduates, campesinos and poets, professional men and laborers, as evidenced by the musculature beneath their shirts and the calluses on their hands. Yet there was another thing that they had in common, Jackie noted, other than their youth. It was the shining light in their eyes, the pure fervor of the revolutionary convinced that his cause is just. It was a source that, if tapped by the right individual, had the potential to change the world.

When she was finished, Rosario’s place was taken by a man dressed in a tan suit. Before he launched into his speech, he removed his jacket and handed it to a man seated in the first row. The speaker was handsome in an unassuming way and had an unassuming manner to match. He was neatly barbered, with a small mustache and a head of thick dark hair. He spoke in a soft voice and was somewhat halting in his manner. Hardly a galvanizing speaker, was Jackie’s first impression of the man.

But then something curious happened. The man continued to speak in his soft voice. And the people seated around him leaned forward to catch his every word. This seemed to spur on the man, who slowly raised his voice and addressed his audience with increased passion.

Jackie looked around and saw from the rapt looks on their faces that everyone in the room was mesmerized by this man’s words. He grew more ardent with each passing moment. Although she had no idea what he was saying, the fervent way he spoke needed no translation. She found herself at risk of being carried off by the soaring power of his voice.

And then all the little hairs on her arms rose to attention as, with a thrill, Jackie realized that the speaker was the very man she had come to Cuba to meet—Fidel Castro. Very soon now, she was going to be able to fulfill one-half of her mission: speaking to him and finding out what his intentions were should he ever manage to overthrow El Presidente and become the new—and hopefully more democratic-minded—leader of Cuba.

But before that could happen, the windows at the other end of the room—the ones left unexamined by Jackie—burst open, allowing shafts of sunlight to spear the darkness, followed by men who were even now catapulting into the room behind the beams of illumination. Some were dressed in uniform.