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What's so sinister about that?"
"General Velikov sees it as a front for a more classified mission."
"For instance?"
"An attempt to communicate with the Castros."
"Ridiculous is the first word that comes to mind. There must be easier ways for our governments to negotiate with each other."
"Gunn has told us everything," said Gly. "You were to head the operation to stray into Cuban waters, where you were to be captured by their patrol craft and escorted to the mainland. Once there, you were to turn over vital information dealing with secret U.S.-Cuban relations."
Pitt was genuinely at a loss. This was all Greek to him. "That has to be the dumbest cock-and-bull tale I've ever heard."
"Then why were you armed and able to destroy the Cuban patrol helicopter?"
"We carried no arms," Pitt lied. "The helicopter suddenly exploded in our faces. I can't give you a reason."
"Then explain why the Cuban patrol boat could find no survivors at the crash site."
"We were in the water. It was dark and the seas were rough. They didn't spot us."
"Yet you were able to swim six miles through the violent water of a hurricane, all four of you keeping together as a group, and landing intact on Cayo Santa Maria. How was it possible?"
"Just lucky, I guess."
"Now who's telling a dumb cock-and-bull tale?"
Pitt never got a chance to answer. Without a flicker of warning, Gly swung and rammed a fist into the side of Pitt's body near the left kidney.
The pain and the sudden understanding burst within him at the same time. As he sank into the black pool of unconsciousness he reached out for Jessie, but she laughed and made no effort to reach back.
A deep, resonant voice was saying something, almost in his ear. The words were vague and distant.
An army of scorpions crept over the edge of the bed and began thrusting their poisoned tails in his side.
He opened his eyes. The bright fluorescent light above blinded him, so he closed them again. His face felt wet and he thought he might be swimming and threw out his arms. Then the voice beside him spoke more distinctly.
"Lie easy, partner. I'm just sponging off your face."
Pitt reopened his eyes and focused them on the face of an older, gray-haired man with soft, concerned eyes in a warm, scholarly face. The eyes met his and he smiled.
"Are you in much pain?"
"It smarts a bit."
"Would you like some water?"
"Yes, please."
When the man stood up, the hair on his head nearly touched the ceiling. He produced a cup from a small canvas bag and filled it from the washbasin.
Pitt clutched his side and eased very slowly to a sitting position. He felt rotten and realized he was ravenously hungry. When was the last time he'd eaten? His drowsy mind couldn't recall. He accepted the water thankfully and quickly downed it. Then he looked up at his benefactor.
"Old rich and reckless Raymond, I presume."
LeBaron smiled tightly. "Not a title I'm fond of."
