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CIA Secure Location
Havana, Cuba

 

Red whistled as he climbed out of the van and into a walled courtyard located on the edge of the Havana city limits, the view from the van indicating an industrial area. “What the hell is this place?”

“Industrial laundry,” replied Cruz.

Spock’s eyebrow shot up. “The CIA is washing Cuban undies?”

“In a manner of speaking. The family has operated this laundry since before the revolution. While they’re no longer allowed to make a profit that doesn’t go back to the government, they are allowed to run it as long as they continue to do so efficiently, and not piss anyone off.”

Red pursed his lips. “And they’re willing to put all that at risk to let you guys operate out of here?”

“Not everybody believed in the revolution, and a lot of those who did at the time, no longer do. Cuba’s changing. There’s even private enterprise now. The government’s starting to realize that the Chinese brand of communism has a better chance at success, though with sanctions against them, they’re going to have a hard time of it.”

“Well, they don’t seem to be too successful.”

She eyed him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t hear any machines going, I don’t hear any people working.”

She laughed. “After half-past twelve on a Sunday, there’s nothing open but bars and restaurants. Everything is shut down.”

“Convenient for us.”

“Exactly.” She pointed at a large delivery truck nearby. “And that, gentlemen, will hopefully be our ticket onto whatever base they decide to transfer our people to.”

Red walked over and opened the rear doors, finding it piled high with neatly folded laundry, all military uniforms. “Won’t they search it?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve established myself as a known face, doing lots of deliveries just to maintain the cover. They don’t bother searching anymore after I intentionally rumpled the clothing of a few senior officers then blamed the guards at the gate. That pretty much put an end to any difficulties.”

Wings chuckled. “Clever. Brass is brass everywhere.”

“Let’s get inside. We should be safe here, but you never know. This whole half of the island is going to be on high-alert once your friends start making trouble. There are food and drink inside, plus everything you need to look like good conscripts.”

Red closed the doors to the truck. “And our equipment?”

“Enough to start a small war.”

Red smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”