they sprinted around the corner and then slowed so they wouldn’t draw attention, those last words echoed in Claire’s mind. No going back. “We need to mingle with the crowds on the Malecon, get lost,” Jace said. “Split up into small groups but keep in sight of each other. Stroll, not run. Maybe we can get a couple taxis.”
“How about we go back to my parents?” Gina asked. “I would want to say goodbye if I can escape with you. Please, let me go too. My father could help with his boat, but we cannot put them in danger.”
“We have another contact that may help us,” Nick said. “Someone on our side.”
Claire thought he still didn’t trust Gina. But could they trust anyone on this island, except Gina’s parents? Well, surely the marines at distant Guantanamo miles and hours away. And Gina’s home was in the opposite direction.
* * *
Jace tried not to keep looking back. Anyway, once they blended in with the strolling crowd, he felt calmer. As they slowed their pace, he tried to catch his breath. But his heartbeat kicked up again when three police cars screamed past, heading for the hotel. At least the guys dressed in business suits with guns Nick said he’d spotted were nowhere to be seen.
They stopped under a thick fica tree with the seawall and crashing water on the rocks behind them.
Jace said, “Don’t we need to cross the street to get taxis heading east?”
“East?” Gina said. “Costa Blanca is west.”
“We’re going to trust Gina to keep our secret and her father to help us,” Nick announced. He was holding Lexi and her green whale again. Claire had seen Jace reach for the girl, but Nick had hung on to her.
Jace asked, “You mean hire him to get us where we want to go?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. But, Gina, will he balk taking us to a rendezvous spot, if it means maybe losing you?”
“Rendezvous with who? Another boat? I can ask him, beg him, tell him it’s my chance, but my mother... After losing Alfredito... I will not tell my mother and will only tell him at the last minute. We could take the bus again.”
“No,” Nick said, “we could be trapped in a net that way, if they set up a roadblock or come on board. Let’s move on down farther into the crowd, line up for two taxis. Change I got for Meggie’s whale, even if it’s in pesetas, should get us a good ride. Let’s go before they search the crowd.”
Jace got them one taxi—a two-tone Ford Fairlane Skyliner, it was called. How he wished it was a flying skyliner and he was at the controls, getting them all out of here. The one Heck hailed was an old Cadillac Fleetwood.
Nick, Claire, Jace and Lexi piled in the Ford with Nita to translate while Bronco, Heck and Gina took the Cadillac. Heck had the money for their taxi. “He say he can go only far as Costa Blanca, so he gets back near dark,” Nita translated what the cabbie said to her.
“Tell him that will do,” Nick said.
But as they pulled away, and the engine seemed to cough, Jace wasn’t so sure. And he really got shook when he saw two Cuban policemen emerge from the crowd they’d just left and point after them.
“We’d better change taxis,” he told Nick. “The boys back there may have spotted us.”
“Let’s get a ways out, off the main drag. Lorena, ask him if he can pull off in a block or two and signal so the taxi behind us does too.”
She asked, then translated back. “He have to charge you more, half of what you promise him.”
“Tell him to do it. And I’m giving him a tip with a tip. If he’s stopped, not to say where he heard we were going.”
“Tell him,” Lexi spoke up, though Jace had been grateful she’d kept quiet so far, “this is a whale, but sharks are after us, ever since the water.”
“Meggie, not now,” Claire said to their girl and hugged her, but it wasn’t enough to shut the child up.
“If he doesn’t listen to me, Lily will do something really scary.”
Claire put two fingers over Lexi’s lips as their cab blinked its lights and pulled off into a side street with the other right behind it.
* * *
Nick knew this plan changing taxis he’d hatched so suddenly was a big gamble, but he was afraid to flee straight for Guantanamo. Basically, there was just one main road along the coast that went both east and west. It was possible that the Cuban government had intercepted and decoded the emails and knew they’d be headed toward Gitmo. Or had Ames’s people followed Heck and Gina because they looked suspicious outside Ames’s Havana hacienda—and they’d called the police? Those guys in business suits with guns loose in a huge hotel—pure amoral Ames.
But could they make it to Gina’s house in these two different taxis? His neck was about to break from craning around to watch behind them all the time, and he saw Heck doing the same in the taxi following. If the police located their original taxis, what would the drivers tell them?
But they had no choice, he agonized silently, trying to keep calm. Hitchhiking like they’d seen people do here was ridiculous. Risking the bus? Walking forty miles to Costa Blanca—impossible. The thing was, even if they got back to Nando and Carlita’s house, would that old fishing boat get them clear to the other end of the island? Was it his imagination or were those dark clouds ahead and not just the sharp shadows of sunset?
* * *
By the time they reached Costa Blanca and got out of their taxis to walk the rest of the way to Gina’s house, Claire saw the sun had disappeared in a blinding burst of crimson and gold that was soon devoured by storm clouds on the horizon. Since Gina had decided not to tell her mother she was leaving and to only tell her father just before he got them as far east as he could, she’d been scribbling them a note to explain, to promise she’d be back, that she’d send them money and love them always.
The distraught woman had used her backpack for a makeshift desk on her knees. Jace sat in front beside the driver, and Gina was wedged in next to Claire in the backseat with Lexi in the middle asleep and Nick on the far side. More than once, in tears, though she was writing in Spanish, Gina had whispered to Claire what she was telling her parents.
Strange, but Claire was coming to trust her now like Heck did and Nick still didn’t. So far, Gina didn’t know their destination was the place her country hated, American-held Guantanamo. And Gina wasn’t the only one in tears. Claire was too, and her well-honed forensic psychologist instincts—and her woman’s intuition—told her they could trust Gina.
Since they apparently had not been followed, they thought they were momentarily safe in Costa Blanca. Yet rather than burst in on Gina’s parents and risk getting caught there, they hiked to Gina’s house outside town and sent Gina and Heck in while they waited outside in the windy darkness. Claire carried the whale now while Nick and Jace took turns holding the sleeping Lexi. If only, Claire thought, as she took her narcolepsy pill in the dark with a swig from Nita’s water bottle, Lexi’s dad and stepdad could learn to share the child like that.
They heard footsteps in the darkness. Then Gina, Heck and Nando rounded the corner where they waited, huddled like the refugees they were.
“He will help you,” Gina told them, “but it have to be at dawn he picks you up in Alfredito because of the rocks. Berto and I take you to the spot you waited before. Mamacita, she say you already pay for much gasoline, a fortune she found in her little jar.”
Claire blinked back more tears. Fifty dollars was a fortune? She knew Nick would insist on paying more, and he only had big bills left.
Nick said, “Berto and Gina, does Nando understand we need to go clear to the other end of the island?”
Heck translated for the old man, then explained, “He swear on his son’s soul he get you close as