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Perhaps I am paranoid about the Chinese, Cipriano Cato reflected to himself. So what? I've every reason to feel that way. This is my part of the world. To those Chinese, we're just an extension of their policy against the Americans.
Admiral Zhang had just passed him in the corridor on the same floor as Premier Suarez's office. He could be wrong, but Cato was sure the man had been with Suarez again. When they passed in the hallway, there had been no exchange between them, just a nod, an acknowledgment that the other existed.
But Cipriano Cato was sure that Zhang was penetrating even more deeply into the Cuban government, and he was determined to prove the man wasn't reliable. The Chinaman may have created a power structure for himself in Fortaleza del Pueblo, but Cato retained connections underground. That was part of being at the forefront of a popular uprising. He had given orders to his people to have Zhang watched. The Chinaman would never recognize any shadow near him more than once, but he'd never be alone either. If that meant he was paranoid, what the hell? But he would never permit the Chinese to set up shop in Panama like they had recently done in Cuba.
Another individual who continued to intrude on Cato's thoughts was President Arosemana. The man was in a no-win situation. The President had spent a day in Fortaleza del Pueblo recently, mostly with Suarez, though he'd taken some time to talk to Cato. Somehow their meeting lacked the flavor of the past. Once, years ago, the two young men had seemed inseparable, bound in the close spirit of an emerging Central America. Now, Arosemana talked increasingly of concern about the VCs, of their infiltration of the Guardia, of his officers spending too much time training in Cuba.
Cato had nothing but respect for Arosemana. His intentions had never been other than to gradually coax the President over to the side of reason. In his wildest dreams, he never considered deposing Arosemana, though the military leaders assumed that would occur. Cato envisioned a peaceful change, or as peaceful as it could be once Arosemana and the old guard understood it was the will of the people. Uncomfortable with Arosemana's increasing concern over the Chinese, he wanted to guarantee they would not become a factor in Panamanian life---but that would have given him away. Instead, he thought it his responsibility, here and now, to ensure that the Chinese and the Cubans assisted them in altering the Panamanian government and seeing the Americans out the door. But, once accomplished, he also wanted to make sure they went their way, as friends, as trading partners, as part of a peaceful buttress against American interference, but never on the same level as existed in Fortaleza del Pueblo today. He was comfortably unaware that others in the leadership back home not only considered him paranoid but also worried about his ties to Arosemana. Only his financial management of the VCs kept him alive.
Finally, Cipriano Cato worried about his daughter, Cat. She was the one human being in his lonely existence who meant more than life itself. Her achievements, even though they involved business with the Americans, added to his supreme joy in her. He could not admit that she was making life harder for the VCs by her success, so he argued that it was her very success that would ensure American respect for their people in the future. He was sure she would never forsake her country. Perhaps, he thought, she might even provide the link that would keep the United States and its money available for business expansion in the future, though that argument alone engendered rumors that he was just plain crazy rather than paranoid.
Cato had gotten word through his grapevine that Cat had been aboard the plane blown up at Torrijos Airport, and he'd been enraged----to the point that he sent back word to execute the officer responsible. The first rule in the guerilla warfare that Cato had demanded, was ensuring that the VCs avoided endangering anyone of value to the country. Just one life taken in one of their attacks could sway the public against them. It was hard enough to fathom that they had almost killed his daughter.
His informant also delicately indicated that Senorita Cato was often in the company of an American who had been on the plane with her, a man who had saved her life and now seemed to be a constant companion. Just the thought of an American courting her left a sour taste in his mouth. Though she was old enough to lead her own life, a father was always a father, and she would always appear in his dreams as his little girl. With her mother gone for so long, Cipriano Cato thought about her now, wondering where she was, what she was doing, and with whom...61Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgpKZmo062D
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In the depths of darkness, Harry Locke lurked, camouflaged by the shadows that clung to the building's edge. The rough stucco pressed into his back, a reminder of the hidden danger that surrounded him. As he braced himself for the man's passing, Locke pondered the mysterious intuition that had alerted him to the threat. The guard's careless whistling, a telltale sign of his approach, had either faded into silence or been drowned out by Locke's intense focus.
When he set foot in Fortaleza del Pueblo, Locke understood the urgency of uncovering his sources. Time was of the essence before his true identity was exposed. Covertly, he sought out the whereabouts of Commodore Garcia and his inner circle, effortlessly infiltrating their unguarded offices. The lack of stringent security protocols in Cuba was a vulnerability he exploited, as the risk of betrayal was minimal in their insulated world. Despite the simplicity of gaining entry, Locke found nothing of significance within their premises.
It became clear to him that this was indeed a Chinese operation, just as Binghamton had suspected. The Cubans were merely a facade for Beijing, unchanged for decades. What he sought was under Chinese jurisdiction, likely undisclosed to the Cubans in the early stages of preparation.
The shadowy figure moved silently under the harsh beam of the distant light. Locke squinted, realizing this guard was not the one he had heard whistling. Midnight had passed, signaling a changing of the guard. The Chinese were meticulous in their patrols after midnight, adding a new level of caution to his mission. The Cuban offices were unguarded at night, but with the Chinese in control, security was a top priority. Locke adjusted his plan accordingly, knowing he needed to tread even more carefully now.
He cautiously made his way away from the concealment of the building's corner, skillfully navigating from one shadow to the next until he reached the side door. Running his fingers along the frame, he discovered two locks. One was a familiar challenge, easily defeated with his trusty plastic strip. As he inspected the second lock, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself in silence. The Chinese had sent their latest technological equipment to Cuba but overlooked the necessity for modern security measures. It appeared that the second lock had been purchased locally, a desperate attempt by a frustrated shop owner in downtown Fortaleza del Pueblo to deter unwanted visitors. With a subtle click, the third key he tried successfully released the lock, allowing him to slip inside undetected.
Quietly, Locke prowled the first-floor hallway, moving with stealth and caution. Holding his breath, he stopped at every step, straining his ears for any hint of movement. The building was eerily still, devoid of any signs of life. No flickering lights, no sound of footsteps echoing through the corridors. It was as deserted as the other structures he had infiltrated. Despite the extra security measures put in place by the Chinese, the residents of Fortaleza del Pueblo seemed relaxed and unguarded. Locke was taken aback by the glaring lack of vigilance in such a supposedly secure location.
He moved quickly to the next floor. Admiral Zhang's chief of staff's office was located there. The penlight revealed one more simple lock. Another sound almost fooled him as he worked the key into the lock, waiting for the telltale click. There had been no initial warning, but the sound he heard was much more than a single click. The sound of the dog's claws on the wooden floor ceased, and Locke understood exactly what was happening as the German shepherd leaped through the air toward him.
As he rolled to the side, shoulder turned against the impact, arms tucked under him away from those jaws, the dog allowed that first fearsome snarl. With the effect as they both crashed to the floor, came the smell of the animal and the deep gurgling sound as it instinctively dug with its teeth for a grip. But Locke was still rolling. The dog had no better opportunity to see him as their bodies met and for a moment all was motion. Locke protecting himself, the animal lunging, snapping, attempting to grip and tear.
With his feet out and kicking, Locke felt a heel contact the dog's huge, solid head. A yelp escaped from its mouth as it momentarily halted its attack. Locke knew there was only a split second. It was merely instinct as the beast recovered its senses. But it was enough time for Locke to make his move. Intuition governed his movements. Getting to his feet would be just as foolish as trying to run. There was more advantage remaining on the dog's level.
Excitement coursed through him as he anticipated the dog's next move. Locke knew exactly where the head was and how to counter its charge. With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged forward and to the side, his forearm connecting with the beast's chest. The deep growl reverberated in his ears as he felt the power of its muscles pushing against him. But Locke was ready. He used all his strength to halt the beast in midair, his weight and muscle opposing its thrust. As the dog's body came crashing back towards him, claws tearing at his clothes, Locke expertly maneuvered his leg across its spine. With each ounce of strength, he pulled his arm back, knowing the animal would try to twist out of his grasp. But Locke had the advantage of experience, and he was determined to come out victorious in this intense battle.
A high-pitched snarl of rage escaped the animal's jaws as its neck snapped. Both bodies slumped to the floor, Locke underneath, his face muffled by a huge shoulder. Though he was gasping for air, his body shaking with the sudden effort, there was no time to rest. That last cry of rage and agony from the beast would have been heard outside. He heaved the body away and rose to his knees.
In that moment, he recalled the guards' predictable patrol routes, committing each one to memory as he lurked stealthily in the shadows. Where was the nearest one now? How much time had slipped away since he entered? There was no opportunity to sneak into an office and escape through a hidden window. It was a gamble between the two ends of the corridor. He made his decision and sprinted towards one end, swiftly unlocking and lifting a window. Glancing warily in both directions, Locke carefully balanced on the windowsill before leaping just far enough to evade the stairs below. Landing silently, he could hear distant shouts echoing from the opposite end of the structure.61Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkdGAt1xucw
More of them would be arriving soon, but he had predicted their actions. It was merely a case of blending into the darkness. In a brief period, Locke skillfully made his way back to his residence and slipped through the same window he had exited less than an hour earlier. Once more, he assumed the guise of Lieutenant Holla, a pupil at the secretive guerilla training facility who appeared mysteriously more astute than his fellow students.61Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu1r5jP0FWG
