Chapter 1

In the jungles outside of Havana, Cuba, a squadron of black ducks crossed the sky at dusk, like bats. According to the tourist guidebooks it was considered a very bad omen. The ducks arrowed together, seeking evening prey among the numerous gnats and insects rising from the island’s steaming jungles.

Then, as one, the flock of black ducks veered, quacking in instinctive fear as they skirted the imposing edifice of a grim fortress perched atop sheer, rugged cliffs high above the sea. Curling ocean waves crashed against the rocks below with a roar like a lion, guarding the citadel.

The treacherous road that led up to the spiked front gate of Morro Castle stopped in an ancient courtyard. Knotted vines protruded from the ground, buckling the flagstones. No welcome mat lay at the foot of the barred wooden doors; the daily newspapers had not been delivered in some time. An ominous sign announced in SpanishNo Soliciting.

Over the years, the dark fortress had been used by an endless stream of torturers, mad scientists, and megalomaniacs with their tiresome schemes of taking over the world. By now, the locals had stopped paying much attention to Morro Castle, tending instead to their cane or tobacco fields, knowing that in an emergency some hero would eventually rectify the situation and all would go back to normal again.

As the sun set across the Caribbean, and soupy clouds gathered for an evening squall, Morro Castle’s new inhabitants were up to the usual hi-jinks.…

* * *

“Asombroso!” cried the Cuban intelligence colonel, astounded as he sat back in a creaking wooden chair, clapping a hand to his head to hold his beret in place.

His hair was black and thick, his bloodshot eyes dark and flashing. He wore a rumpled khaki uniform, adorned with numerous stars and medals he had pinned on himself. Some of them hung crookedly from his uniform, because when in front of a mirror, the Cuban colonel spent more time admiring his huge black beard than studying the neatness of his dress.

Across the stone-walled tower room, the Russian colonel said placidly, “Da, Comrade Enrique.” Unlike his companion’s, his own olive uniform was immaculate and well pressed. He used a ruler and a level every morning to make surehis medals hung straight. “Here, see for yourself.”

The Russian stood up to place aSECRET folder on the rugged wooden table in the center of the chamber. Rusty manacles dangled from the edges of the table, and faded reddish stains adorned the hewn boards. Other