Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,67

to herself as she settled back in the Pullman compartment’s comfortable seat next to Emiliano, who looked equally relaxed. The compartment was a luxurious combination of leather, wood, and brass, everything glossed with a patina of age but very well maintained, like an elderly dowager who insisted on taking good care of herself. It was easily the most civilized place they had been in since leaving Havana for their cross-country trek.

It had been a rough twenty-four hours, beginning when the truck decided to break down in the middle of nowhere. The engine had overheated to the point where it had completely seized up and stopped running. Emiliano twisted open the radiator cap and saw that the reservoir was empty of water. A close examination of the grill showed that the radiator had been punctured by one of the stones thrown off by the explosion, causing all the water to drain slowly and imperceptibly out of it.

All seemed lost until Emiliano looked at the map and determined that they were not all that far from a village that also functioned as a stop on the railroad line that ran between Havana and Santiago de Cuba on the southern coast of Oriente Province, not far from their ultimate destination, the Sierra Maestra. All they had to do was find a way to the village.

“But won’t we be conspicuous on a train?” Jackie asked Emiliano.

“If anything, they’re looking for two people in a truck, so the train is the last way they’ll be expecting us to travel. Besides, it’s about time we ditched this truck anyhow. If that jeep had a radio on board, Sanchez’s men are sure to be on the lookout for it.”

Jackie seemed satisfied with Emiliano’s explanation. Together, they pushed the abandoned truck into the undergrowth, where it wouldn’t be spotted from the road, and hiked the short distance to the highway leading to the village.

After two hours of walking by the side of this lonely stretch of road with their thumbs outstretched, they were rewarded by the sight of a truck stopping for them. The good news was that the driver was headed for the same destination and said they could ride in the open back of the truck. The bad news was that the truck was transporting goats to market. Jackie and Emiliano were forced to spend an uncomfortable two hours sitting amidst a dozen or so goats. Their combined smell was close to unbearable. Jackie tried to hold her nose for the seemingly endless ride to the village but found that after a while, it was best to just give in to the smell and try to ignore it.

After arriving at the village and thanking the driver for his kindness, Jackie and Emiliano went to the train station and found out that they had three hours until the next train to Santiago de Cuba arrived. This gave them enough time to go to the village’s only inn and get themselves a room. On the way, they passed two soldiers on horseback, but the men showed no interest in the two ripe-smelling vagabonds. At the inn, they removed their coveralls, now dirty, torn and stiff with sweat from their overland trek, bathed, scrubbing off the odor of goat, and put on their own clothes again so they would look presentable for the train ride and not attract any undue attention.

Returning to the station, Emiliano paid for a Pullman compartment, explaining to Jackie that though he usually abhorred such wasteful luxury, he thought a private compartment was necessary in this case to insulate them from any prying eyes. The train itself was reputed to be the most luxurious one in all of Cuba, this island’s version of the Orient Express, The Flying Scotsman, or Le Train Bleu. Now, sitting in their luxe compartment, Jackie and Emiliano stared out the window and couldn’t wait for the train to leave the station.

“What’s holding us up?” she asked.

Emiliano shrugged and pointed to a peculiar-looking train car on the tracks next to them. It was completely covered with armor plating, with slits in its metal sides in place of windows. The car looked like a giant sardine can on wheels, but with a completely ominous aspect to it, as though unspeakable things could be happening inside.

Emiliano shivered involuntarily, causing Jackie to ask, “What’s the matter?”

“I know that car. It’s Colonel Sanchez’s private armored train car. That’s how he usually travels around the country. I guess it’s an accurate reflection of how well liked