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"And he'll have to call General Melena, and the general is asleep in bed." Clark stared at him with narrowed, cold eyes. "A letter attesting to your insubordination won't look good when your promotion to major comes due."
"Please, sir, I'm not refusing to obey a superior."
"Then I suggest you accept my authority."
"Yes, Colonel. I-I'm not doubting you. . ." He caved in. "I'll assemble my men."
"You do that."
Ten minutes later Captain Herras had his twenty-four-man security force lined up and ready to move out. The Cubans took the change of guard willingly. They were all happy to be relieved and returned to their barracks for a night's sleep. Herras did not seem to notice that the colonel's men remained hidden inside the darkness of the lead truck.
"This your entire unit?" asked Clark.
"Yes, sir. They're all accounted for."
"Even the men guarding the next ship?"
"Sorry, Colonel. I left sentries at the boarding ramp to make sure no one boarded until your men were dispersed. We can drive by and pick them up as we leave."
"Very well, Captain. The rear truck is empty. Order them to board. You can take my car. I'll have my aide pick it up later at your headquarters."
"That's good of you, sir. Thank you."
Clark had his hand on a tiny .25-caliber silenced automatic that was sitting loose in his pants pocket, but he left it in place. The Cubans were already climbing over the tailgate of the truck under the direction of a sergeant. Clark offered his seat to Herras and casually strolled toward the silent truck containing Pitt and the Cuban seamen.
The vehicles had turned around and were leaving the dock area when a staff car carrying a Russian officer drove up and stopped. He leaned out the window of the rear seat and stared, a suspicious frown on his face.
"What's going on here?"
Clark slowly approached the car and passed around the front end, assuring himself that the only occupants were the Russian and his driver.
"Changing of the guard."
"I know of no such orders."
"They came from General Velikov," said Clark, halting no more than two feet from the rear door. He could now see the Russian was also a colonel.
"I've just come from the general's headquarters to inspect security. Nothing was said about changing the guard." The colonel opened the door as if to get out of the car. "There must be a mistake."
"No mistake," said Clark. He pressed the door shut with his knees and shot the colonel between the eyes. Then he coldly put two bullets in the back of the driver's head.
Minutes later the car was set in gear and rolled into the dark waters between the wharves.
Manny led the way, followed by Pitt and four Cuban merchant seamen. They rushed up the boarding ramp to the main deck of the Amy Bigalow and split up. Pitt climbed the ladder topside while the rest dropped down a companionway to the engine room. The wheelhouse was dark, and Pitt left it that way.
He spent the next half hour checking the ship's electronic controls and speaker system with a flashlight until he had every lever and switch firmly planted in his mind.
He picked up the ship's phone and rang the engine room. A full minute went by before Manny answered.
"What in the hell do you want?"
"Just checking in," said Pitt. "Ready when you are."
"You got a long wait, mister."
Before Pitt could reply, Clark stepped into the wheelhouse. "You talking to Manny?" he asked.
"Yes."
