Topaz - Leon Uris [63]
“Don’t call,” Juanita de Córdoba pleaded ... “don’t call.”
33
AN HOUR PASSED.
A second hour passed. André sat on the wooden bench in Departure Room 2, holding the valises on his lap, with the cold glare of G-2 men never leaving him.
The room stifled and smelled from lack of air, while the officials and militia played out a sordid departure ceremony for the Cuban passengers.
An ugly, harsh woman from G-2 shrilled out their names. Immigration officials called the refugees up, and police went through a set of forms to list next-to-kin still in Cuba.
A representative of the National Bank cleaned their financial slates.
Terrified Cuban families were ordered into side rooms and stripped naked for inspection.
A pile of confiscated clothing, jewelry, watches, wedding rings, religious medallions, and literature grew higher on the counters. Much of what was there would be picked over by the militia and officials later. The rest would end up for sale in the foyer of the national Capitol.
“Your attention, please! KLM Flight 438 for Miami will be delayed for technical reasons.”
A groan went up from the weary, and in a moment rumor spread of a bomb plant. Hunger and thirst took its place alongside of fear among the passengers. They lined up to be able to use the toilet one at a time in the presence of a guard.
Muñoz’s face was wet with perspiration in the suffocating office. The KLM representative argued heatedly over the further delay of the flight.
Muñoz stared out of the window at the standing aircraft. “I said I would tell you when the plane can leave. Now get out!”
Large rings of sweat circled down beneath the armpits of his shirt. He tried to find a fingernail which had not been chewed to the quick. When the phone rang he grabbed it so quickly the receiver slipped out of his moist hand.
“Hello!”
It was Luis Uribe again, for the tenth time.
“Have you found Rico?”
“No, but something else has come up. Che Guevara has just called,” he said in reference to another of the strong men of the regime. “He said that the French Ambassador had just visited him and told him he knew there was a plot to kidnap Devereaux.”
“Well, what were Che’s instructions?”
“He told me to tell you that in the absence of Parra and Castro it becomes your decision as head of G-2.”
Muñoz hung up slowly, walked to the door and opened it and called in his waiting lieutenant.
The reeking man on her emptied the last of his strength into her.
Juanita wept softly.
“I disgust you,” Rico mumbled in exhausted self-pity.
“No ... I am crying because I am happy,” she sobbed, “because I am so happy.”
“Attention! Attention! KLM Flight 438 for Miami will depart immediately. Passengers may proceed to the boarding gate.”
34
ANDRÉ CLEARED MIAMI CUSTOMS and went directly to the lobby on the main floor and checked into the Airport Hotel under the name of De Fries.
Within a few moments Michael Nordstrom made an appearance at his door with a bucket of ice and a bottle of bourbon.
“Hi, Mike ... how are you? Good to see you.” “Good to see you. Some of us were getting a little worried.”
André shrugged, closed the door behind them. “Have you received everything?”
“Two rolls of microfilm and four radio messages.”
“Splendid,” André said. “I have a lot of loose ends in my briefcase, a few more photographs. It’s going to take a few days to complete a report.” He threw his jacket on the bed, loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves and made to the bathroom and dunked his face in a sinkful of cold water.
Mike handed him a drink as he flopped into an easy chair. He sipped and sighed wearily.
“How’d it go?”
“Routine. Nothing much exciting. But I guess you’ll have to look to other sources for information out of Cuba. I’m afraid I’ve worn out my welcome. We’re all done, Mike.”
“I hope none of your people were taken.”
“Not as far as I know but they’ve become a body without a head. With any luck they can fall back into