Parts 13 and 14, Serialized Havana Dawn
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Chapter 1, Havana Dawn, Excerpt 13
She kneed her attacker in the groin as he cupped her floppy breasts and met his gloved hand gripping a dagger with her stylish red-colored nails. “Frank! Frank!” The two combatants struggled as the sharpened edge moved closer to her throat. Where was Frank?Barb was not strong enough, especially after that passionate moment, but stuck fingers from her left hand into the eye holes of the mask. Her attacker yelled “you bitch!” She felt the blade from the assailant in total black wardrobe finally slide from one side to another of her throat. The attacker’s soft brown eyes grew to the size of saucers as the knife completed its task.
Then, a half-dressed Frank ran and jumped on his back. The attacker, gripping the knife, turned around and impaled him against the sharp edge of the boulder and hurled three punches into his stomach. The killer rushed him with a knife, but Frank kicked him back with his muscled legs and the intruder fell to the ground dropping the knife somewhere on the sloshy mud beneath their feet. Shit! Frank launched himself in the air and the two rolled around the muddy terrain, over tree roots and fallen limbs from the storm, in a vicious contest of strength.
Frank grabbed the ski mask, but the killer kicked him backwards hitting his head on an overgrown tree root. Then the attacker landed a left hook to his chin and delivered a flurry of swift blows to Frank’s stomach leaving him bent over on his side gasping for air.
The masked attacker scampered back to the Jeep, stumbled over a fallen tree branch, losing his balance, and falling down. His wallet spilled onto the wet park ground, but he grabbed it and made his escape.
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Chapter 1, Havana Dawn, Excerpt 14
“Comrades, tonight was an important victory for Cuba and total defeat for the American pigs who plotted yet again to destroy our beloved Revolución,” Comandante Arroyo crowed addressing a carefully-selected group of Avispas Negras at a hastily-arranged conference room in his command compound on Live Cuban TV. Arroyo, with his Makarov pistol proudly holstered on his right side, stuck up two fingers in a V-sign.
“Even as I speak, the traitors and their American pig conspirators are being rounded up. Here is my promise to you, comrades. Cuba will repay the American scoundrels. I guarantee these cowardly acts will not go unpunished. Socialismo o muerte! Socialismo o muerte!” The assembled crowd of soldiers and apparatchiks joined and amplified the chant to fill the hall.
Arroyo lingered to bask in the glory with the guests – always the gracious host – while Interior Minister Juanjo Raúl Lazlo paced the floor with hands behind his back as he patiently waited for Arroyo in an adjoining office. Thankfully, he thought, his great comrade Arroyo, a Beijing-educated geologist, made much shorter pronouncements than previous Comandantes.
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