Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,91

both Jackie and Emiliano by surprise and caused them to pause in midbite.

Jackie felt both a sudden resumption of hope and a fear that it would only be ripped away again, so she paused for an unconscionably long time before asking, “Why, is there more than one leper colony around here?”

The cook wiped his hands on his apron before answering. It seemed to take forever for him to get his words out.

“Of course there is more than one leper colony around here. There is the one you just came from, the leprosarium, and then there is the one at Fort Mengues.”

“Fort Mengues?” Emiliano asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

“Yes. It’s a small coastal fortress overlooking an inlet not too far from here. Used to protect against pirates and smugglers. It was called the leper colony because of its location, so far from civilization. Being sent to serve there was considered a kind of punishment.”

“Let me guess,” Emiliano said to the cook, “you used to be in the army.”

“I was a mess chef. That’s where I learned how to cook.”

“If this is an example of the food you served, then your men were well fed.”

“Gracias.”

“And is there a cemetery there?” Jackie interrupted, hoping against hope that the cook would supply the answer she so desperately needed to hear.

The cook looked thoughtful. “Yes, I believe there is.”

“And is this fort also abandoned?” asked Emiliano.

“Yes, since there’s no more need to be on watch for pirates.”

Emiliano turned to Jackie and gave her a look of relief, which she fully returned.

“I think we had the wrong leper colony,” he said to her in what could have been the understatement of the year.

Jackie couldn’t help but look up, apologize to St. Jude for ever doubting him, then give silent thanks to him for coming through for them in the end.

XXI

They found the second cemetery just as dawn was breaking. It was nestled halfway between the beach and the coastal fortification guarding the pirate inlet, just where the cook had told them it would be. Even though it had been left derelict for many years, Fort Mengues had been so solidly constructed that it could have been occupied today with only the slightest need for repair or restoration. Wreathed in the last of the morning mist, looking both substantial and ethereal, it reminded Jackie of Fort Zinderneuf, the Foreign Legion post manned by dead men in Beau Geste.

“We’re not too far from Guantánamo Bay,” said Emiliano.

“The U.S. Navy has a base there, right?” Jackie asked.

“Right. It was ceded by Spain at the end of the Spanish-American War and originally used as a coaling station for American ships.”

“But navy ships don’t run on coal now, do they?”

“No, but your country likes having a presence in this part of the world,” Emiliano responded pointedly.

They saw that the cemetery was a fenced-in plot of land sloping down to a beach rimming a small cove. In days of old, this must have been perfect for pirates embarking on raiding parties or smugglers picking up or dropping off embargoed merchandise.

Emiliano parked the jeep on the far side of the cemetery from the fort, and he and Jackie got out. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The pink and gold sunrise was glorious, and there was an offshore breeze that felt refreshing, while at the same time leaving Jackie’s hair thankfully in peace.

Jackie saw a smudge near the horizon. “What’s that?” she asked.

Emiliano looked where Jackie was pointing. “That’s a small island, close enough to be considered Cuban property. But I’m not even sure it has a name.”

Emiliano toted the rucksack as he and Jackie approached the cemetery. It wasn’t until they entered the graveyard that their optimistic mood was instantly transformed. To their shock, they were greeted by about one hundred wooden crosses planted in neat, orderly rows. As they got closer, they could see that none of the crosses had any inscriptions on them. These were the nameless dead.

Emiliano put his hand to his head as though dazed. “Unmarked graves. They must belong to shipwrecked bodies washed ashore without identification. The soldiers manning the battery above us would have considered it their duty to give them a good Christian burial. But without dates or names, we’ll never be able to figure out which is the right one. There’s just no way we can dig up all the graves.”

He slumped against the fence as though crushed by the enormity of the task. Jackie felt the same