Page 45 of Hot Intent

“They had plenty of advance warning that Giselle was coming. They went across the island to stay with friends or relatives, or to shelters inland.”

“I thought most of inland Cuba is impassable jungle.”

“The mountainous terrain is the problem. The jungle itself isn’t that bad,” he commented.

“You’ve seen it, personally?” she asked sharply.

“Not on the approved conversation list, Katie.” To soften the sting of that, he added, “Any online satellite map of the island will show you what I’m talking about.”

He angled their steps back to the main coastal road. The silence of this place was eerie. There were no cars, no people, no birds, nothing to disturb the quiet swish and roar of the ocean. Even the trees that normally would have rustled in the breeze were mostly destroyed.

That was why the sound of an engine in the distance made him grab Katie’s arm, drag her off the road, and frantically pull dead palm fronds over them.

A military jeep rumbled past with four armed soldiers seated in it. The vehicle retreated from view, and in the ensuing silence, Katie grumbled, “Fine. They all had belts.”

The corner of his mouth curved up.

“Now what?” she murmured.

“The Zacara factory should be just around that bend in the road ahead.” A rocky bluff jutted out into the surf, and the coastal road wrapped around its base to disappear from sight.

“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “We get to go over the hill and not around it.”

“You’re learning, grasshopper.”

By his standards, the hike was a walk in the park. No one was hunting him, the temperature was reasonable, and he only had a quarter-mile or so to go. After his arctic-, desert-, and jungle-combat survival and evasion training, climbing that bluff was child’s play.

He led the way at a moderate pace, seeking the easiest route for Katie and pausing often to let her catch her breath. She’d obviously been working out hard while he was gone, for she was significantly stronger than the last time they had to hike a long distance. When they got out of Cuba, he would love to test the limits of that new strength and endurance in bed with her.

As they topped the ridge, they lay down on their stomachs to peer beyond it.

The factory sprawled directly below, a collection of big, industrial buildings with concrete walls. Here and there, the roofing material was peeled back to reveal steel I-beams. That was pretty sturdy construction for a simple cleaning supply facility.

The big, circular tanks he’d expected, and which no doubt held the raw chemical ingredients of the products Zacara produced, stood in rows on raised steel platforms on the landward side of the largest building.

One was tipped over, lying on the ground below the others. From here, he couldn’t see if any of the other tanks were damaged. All of them appeared rusted to one degree or another. The combination of metal tanks and salt air was a sure recipe for corrosion. It lent credence to an innocent explanation for the chemical poisoning deaths he’d observed. Lord, he hoped it was as simple as an unfortunate chemical spill caused by crappy storage tanks and a hurricane.

He hunkered down to watch the plant and was surprised by the lack of movement. If this was, indeed, ground zero for a secret chemical weapons facility, he would’ve expected soldiers to be milling around or at least patrolling periodically.

“Looks deserted,” Katie commented as the shadows lengthened around them. The ocean began to calm beyond the factory.

“Too deserted,” he replied.

“Like a trap? Why would someone set a trap way out here? Who would they expect to catch? No international aid groups are allowed near here. From what I can tell, the Cuban authorities themselves have yet to reach this area after the hurricane.”

“We should wait till dark. An ounce of caution is worth a pound of cure.”

“Learn that at Harvard?” she retorted.

“No. My father taught me that. He wasn’t wrong about everything, you know.”

That silenced little Miss Mom and Apple Pie. She still struggled to wrap her brain around a world where Uncle Sam wasn’t only one short step down from holy. He sighed. Uncle Sam was his employer, now. He supposed he was obliged to show a little loyalty to the stars and stripes.

Katie muttered, “We’ve been here all afternoon. If someone were patrolling the area, we would’ve seen them by now. My guess is the soldiers or workers who would normally be here have been sent out into the countryside to help the locals. I say we go down there, get whatever samples you want, and get the heck out of Dodge. It’s going to get pitch black out here and we might miss seeing something important if we wait any longer.”

He sighed. “Fine. Pass me the bag.” She did so, and he pulled out what he’d spent nearly twenty-four hours straight performing surgery in Baracoa for. A small, hand-held sensor that was pre-programmed to sniff for various chemicals in the air. Civil Defense agencies all over the world had them. The physician in charge of the Baracoa emergency room had been reluctant to lend this one out, but hadn’t been able to pass up the services of a top-notch trauma surgeon in return for it.

They had moved him from patient to patient to perform the difficult portions of a dozen surgeries, while another surgeon opened and closed for him. He’d never done so much work so fast in his life. It was assembly-line medicine at its best. But they’d completely cleared out every surgical case in the entire hospital. He’d even performed a simple coronary bypass and repaired a hernia before it was all said and done.

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