Sarah looked out the window as the plane accelerated down the runway. The sight of the city seemed to ease her anxiety as the plane banked over the Statue of Liberty and began climbing. Paul propped a pillow under Sarah's head and after a few minutes she fell asleep. "If she gets up, try to give her some of this," Jake said, handing Paul a hip flask.

The flight plan consisted of three segments: Washington, D.C.; Atlanta; and Miami. With the DC-3 cruising at 170 mph, flying time to Washington D.C. was 1 hour and 15 minutes. The descent into Washington caused Sarah to complain about her ears. Jake pa.s.sed her some chewing gum and told her to make believe she was a Golden Guernsey. They had twenty minutes to stretch their legs in the terminal.

Jake placed a collect call to Vinnie in Miami who was surprised to hear Jake's voice. "Goomba, where are you? It ain't possible that you're here already." Vinnie had a way with words.

"I just landed in D.C. Anything change?"

"The people on the ship are beginning to go crazy. This morning, one of my people in Havana told me a guy slit his wrists and jumped overboard. They fished him out of the harbor and patched him up in the local hospital. I guess the guy would rather die in Cuba than be sent back to Germany. The Cubans are getting real itchy. They don't want any more Jews getting off. Jake, I don't know how much longer we can stall them."

"I'll call from Atlanta. Make sure that the boat is ready to go as soon as I arrive." Jake hung up. He did what he normally wouldn't have done, b.u.m a cigarette from a sailor waiting to use the phone. For whatever reason, the smoke helped settle his nerves. Jake picked up the Sunday edition of The Washington Post The Washington Post from a newsstand. from a newsstand.

The lead article was President Roosevelt's message to the National Meeting of Moral Rearmament. Roosevelt said, "The underlying strength of the world must consist in the moral fiber of her citizens." Nowhere was there a mention of any arrangements being considered for pa.s.sengers of the St. Louis St. Louis to enter the United States. A State Department spokesman insisted that immigration quotas were to be upheld. to enter the United States. A State Department spokesman insisted that immigration quotas were to be upheld.

The article exposed an ugly blood money scheme: the president of Cuba demanded $500 per pa.s.senger to allow disembarkation. New York attorney Lawrence Berenson, representing the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, pleaded for time to raise the required half million dollars.

Jake tossed the paper into a trashcan. Paul and Sarah had already reboarded the plane and didn't need additional bad news. He climbed the steps, paused to look at the outline of the Capitol building, and questioned how the members of the august body could disregard the plight of the pa.s.sengers on the St. Louis St. Louis.

The white sand of Miami's famed beaches came into view as the plane followed the coastline. Finally, they were on the ground. A pudgy, balding, five-foot-five gnome rested against a chain-link fence near the terminal entrance. "That can't be the famous Vinnie," Sarah said incredulously. "He's the most important guy down here?"

Jake didn't laugh at her remarks. Vinnie was more important than she would ever know. Vinnie Sapienza, cousin to the boss, looked like an accountant. However, the only accounts that he kept were how many heads he smashed.

"It's been a long time no see," Vinnie said, placing Jake in a bear hug. "Must be your brother and the cousin of the dame who's causing all this business."

"The party responsible for this mess is in Berlin," Jake corrected. "Sarah's cousin is caught in a business deal."

Paul picked their bags from the luggage cart. Vinnie led the way to his car left in a no-parking zone and opened the trunk of the black Cadillac. "I got my place fixed up. You two should be real comfortable," Vinnie said in a distinctive Brooklyn accent despite living in Florida for almost twenty years.

Vinnie gunned the big engine and peeled away from the airport. The five mile trip brought the sights of majestic estates built prior to the stock market crash of 1929. Many were abandoned and had fallen into disrepair. Those with cash were able to purchase properties at bargain prices. Vinnie had the resources and a knack for buying low and selling high as the real estate market rebounded. "I just had a pool put in," he said as he drove through a twelve foot high security gate that led to a circular drive way. It appeared nothing had been withheld when Vinnie constructed the house.

Vinnie's household help was waiting to receive his guests. "We don't have time for any mushy goodbyes. Jake, get your a.s.s back in the car, we have a half an hour drive to the plane."

Jake incredulously looked at his host. "What are you talking about? You were supposed to get us a speedboat."

"Get in the car, and I'll fill you in," Vinnie ordered.

Jake leaned out of the window. "Paulie, call home and take care of Sarah."

"Since when have you become a mother hen? If those two had any brains, they would use the time to study anatomy." Vinnie wiped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief retrieved from a back pocket. "I've been down here a long time, you'd think I'd be used to the stinking humidity."

"Never mind the weather report. When did the plans change? You could have told me before we were ready to go," Jake protested.

"I didn't see the point in scaring the s.h.i.t out of the kids. The f.u.c.king Cubans are turning the screws. We don't have the time to take a boat. If we get the broad off the ship, I have a feeling we're going to need to get away from the island in a hurry."

"Where's the plane?" Jake asked. "There isn't a private airstrip around."

A breeze whipped into the speeding car evaporating sweat from their shirts. "You gone mush in the brain or something? The Feds are always watching us, just waiting to make a bust. Hoover's morons couldn't find the planes I use to bring in goods if they stood next to them. We'll be at the strip in a few minutes."

Jake didn't have to ask what goods meant. Dope was a new addition to Vinnie's menu of prost.i.tution, loan sharking, and gambling.

Vinnie pulled off the highway onto a narrow unpaved road. Between clouds of dust, Jake could see they were headed toward a dilapidated house that was straight out of the newly released movie Gone With The Wind Gone With The Wind. Vinnie slowed the Cadillac, inching across a wooden bridge spanning a creek almost dry from the sweltering sun. An alligator rested in the shade of a Palmetto tree. Vinnie drove behind a ramshackle barn onto a perfectly level gra.s.s field and stopped at a hay pile. Jake didn't see a plane anywhere.

"Come on and give me a hand clearing this stuff out of the way." Vinnie said. The hay was glued onto plywood, which they quickly removed revealing a blue Cessna. The usual identifying markings were missing from the fuselage.

Jake was no math whiz-there were only four seats. If they had to fly Minnah out of Havana, they would require a fifth seat. "Where's the pilot, if I'm not too pushy," he said, wiping his brow. The sun was like fire.

"I'll give you three guesses who the pilot is, and the first twenty don't count."

Jake suddenly had a gnawing knot in his stomach. The ex-Brooklynite was the person he was about to trust his life to. "How long have you had a pilot's license?"

"Who said I have a license. Relax, I've been flying for almost eighteen years. I'll start the engine and taxi away from this pile of c.r.a.p. You drive the car into its place and replace the hay," Vinnie said, climbing into the pilot's seat. "I have to go over the plane before we get going. I may look like a schlep, but I want to get back here in one piece like you."

Jake climbed in and buckled up. Vinnie finished checking the gauges and released the brake. He increased the throttle. The plane turned into the sultry breeze. Moving along the gra.s.s at 50 mph, Vinnie pulled back on the stick and they were airborne, beginning a slow bank toward the southwest.

Under other circ.u.mstances, it would have been a beautiful day for sightseeing. Jake tried to relax. "Isn't it customary for a plane to have ID numbers, like plates on a car?"

Vinnie laughed. "The Cubans don't give two s.h.i.ts about who or what flies onto the island. The good old Yankee dollar is all the ID you need. I fly down almost twice a week. A little business, a little pleasure. We're going to land at the main airport where my man Cesar will be waiting. He'll take us to President Laredo Bru. I a.s.sume General Flogenico Batista will also be present. If I had to pick the guy to take out Bru, Batista would be the one. He'll be the power broker some day."

Jake, surprised by the turbulence on a clear day, became sick to his stomach. "How much longer? I've been flying too many hours, it's starting to get to me."

"If you have to puke, get it into the bag," Vinnie said, handing Jake an air-sickness bag. "To answer your question, we'll be on the ground in about five minutes. Look to your right, that's Cuba."

Vinnie was on the radio communicating with the control tower. Jake didn't understand a word of Spanish. Vinnie cut back the throttle, proceeded to make a slow bank to the left, and then squared to the runway. He cut the throttle completely, gliding the Cessna onto the runway with a gentle thud. Vinnie taxied to an area of the field separated from the main terminal by a row of ramshackle huts.

Two men were waiting on the tarmac, one in a tan suit, the other wearing grease-stained overalls. Jake a.s.sumed the suit was Cesar. As soon as Vinnie killed the engine, the wheels were choked, and the overalls walked quickly away.

The tan suit advanced toward the Cessna. Vinnie didn't introduce Jake. "You got everything set like we discussed this morning?"

"Senor Vinnie, please be a.s.sured we are expected at Batista's office by 4:00," Cesar responded in a subservient manner.

A Chevrolet sedan waited behind the building. The salty sea air wasn't kind to metal; the car had more rust on it than a fourteen day old Brillo pad. Vinnie scowled, "What do you mean we're going to Batista? You told me that we were set for Bru. What's going on?"

Cesar knew he was treading on very thin tropical ice. "Batista is the guy running the show with this ship. Bru, I don't know what he's up to. You can be sure they will share any money extorted from your a.s.sociate. There was nothing I could do."

Vinnie put his arm on Cesar's shoulder and gave him a pat. "Take it easy. I know how these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds work."

Cesar took the wheel advising his boss to use the right rear door, as the pa.s.senger door up front and the rear left couldn't be opened. Jake hadn't uttered a word since landing. He was out of his element and knew it. Vinnie was running the show. "You couldn't find a bigger piece of s.h.i.t on the island if you tried," Vinnie fumed. "I'm embarra.s.sed to be seen in this, no less go to the presidential building."

Cesar maneuvered out of the airport. The road to Havana was lined with thick tropical vegetation. Palm trees gently swayed in the sea breeze. Jake thought he would pa.s.s out from the heat. Cesar opened a cooler filled with ice and bottles of Coca-Cola. He handed two bottles to his pa.s.sengers. "Thanks for saving my life," Jake said.

"Why are you thanking him? I pay him to take care of the details," Vinnie pointed out. "Down here, a cold drink is one of the details. You're my man, ain't that right Cesar?" Cesar nodded his head in agreement.

Havana was a prime tourist attraction with beautiful beaches and bountiful nightlife. Cesar had the map of the city in his head, changing directions constantly to avoid traffic jams that seemingly were on every street. He pulled up in front of the central government building. The structure was a mini replica of the Capitol in Washington, D.C.

"Wait for us to come out. If we can make a deal, we'll be going to the ship in Batista's car. Follow us. We'll need to get away from the ship as fast as we can," Vinnie said.

Vinnie spoke Spanish to a sentry who checked a clipboard. "This s.h.i.thead is going to make us wait. He wants us to get good and hot, then put the muscle to us. He speaks English very well, but may use Spanish to intimidate you. He gets a kick out of busting b.a.l.l.s, let me deal with him. They never get it through their ears that haggling is a New York tradition and that we never lose."

Vinnie took out a pack of Pall Malls offering one to Jake. "You act like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. If this piece of s.h.i.t senses you're in a desperate way, he's going to squeeze you dry." Vinnie struck a match. "We'll use your moniker Ted Steele, sounds better than Jacob Rothstein. Here comes the messenger boy."

This time the guard spoke English telling them to follow him to the general's office. The building was deceiving; one expected an immense structure from its outside appearance. However, the inside was a maze of narrow corridors. For the seat of power, it was deathly quiet. Their footsteps echoed off the tiled floor. A sergeant stood guard at Batista's office. Seated behind an immense hand carved mahogany desk sat the general, resplendent in a white uniform with gold brocade and a wall of medals adorning his chest. Batista stood, motioning them to two chairs in front of the desk.

"General, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again. On behalf of my uncle, I want to thank you for giving us your valuable time. I know that my a.s.sociate Mr. Steele shares my sentiments," Vinnie said.

"I'm fully aware of the purpose of your visit," Batista said in impeccable English. "Time is of the essence since the St. Louis St. Louis has been ordered out of port by five o'clock. It is now nearly four, so let's get down to business." has been ordered out of port by five o'clock. It is now nearly four, so let's get down to business."

Vinnie started to speak, but was waved off by Batista. "The girl on the ship is a concern of Mr. Steele am I not right? How much are you prepared to donate to the Cuban treasury?"

Jake looked over to Vinnie, who turned to the window. "The New York Times said your government was demanding five hundred per head. As a show of appreciation, I am prepared to donate one thousand." said your government was demanding five hundred per head. As a show of appreciation, I am prepared to donate one thousand."

Batista laughed as he swiveled in his high-backed chair. "I think four thousand would be greatly appreciated for this delicate situation."

"General, the best that I can do is three thousand." Jake paused. "My people in New York would also appreciate your help."

Batista's mulled over the offer. It was six times what a Jew was worth. Besides, he really couldn't afford to get the North Americans angry. "My government will graciously accept your donation." He put on his army dress hat. "We go over to the harbor."

Jake and Vinnie followed a few feet behind. They exited the building through a side door where a new Cadillac was waiting. The driver stood at attention and opened the opened right rear door for Batista.

The Cadillac moved away from the presidential building and proceeded to pick up speed. Vinnie turned around to look out the rear window to see if Cesar was in step. Batista laughed at the sight of the pile of rust on wheels. "Do you fellows plan to spend any time with us after we pick up our guest at the ship? It would be a pity if you didn't take in the wonderful evening delights."

"We would like it very much, but I have pressing business back in Miami. You understand how difficult it is to leave things to underlings," Vinnie said.

Batista grunted in agreement. The Cadillac approached the waterfront where troops out numbered the pa.s.sengers on the ship. The scene was surreal. Jake tried to imagine what it was like at night with searchlights bathing the water, daring the desperate to swim to freedom. Added to the mix were relatives of the pa.s.sengers and representatives from various Jewish agencies who had traveled from the United States to escort the immigrants to freedom. The discourse between those on the ship and the pier produced a buzz from a giant beehive.

The attention of the crowd was drawn toward the approaching Cadillac, causing the troops to spring into action. The Cuban militia not needing an excuse to pummel anyone near the ship quickly cleared a path.

A lieutenant snapped to attention as the car came to a stop. He opened the rear door allowing Batista to make a grand entrance onto the dock. Jake and Vinnie watched the general address his troops. "This is some kind of zoo our friend has made out of this. He craves the attention. n.o.body ever heard of him outside the island. His appearance makes a lot of people s.h.i.t their pants on board this ship, keeping them dancing like a puppeteer. Says one minute he is going to kick them out of the country, then lets them stay," Vinnie said.

"They call it psychological warfare," Jake replied. "Take a look at the faces along the rails. They're at their wits end. Here he comes."

Batista sauntered back toward the Cadillac. "Mr. Steele, let's go onto the ship and see Captain Schroeder. Vincent, you are welcome to accompany us if you wish. I forget what this girl's name is."

"Minnah Goldstein, General," Jake said.

Vinnie didn't move. Jake followed Batista up the gangway to the main deck, as a squad of troops kept the pa.s.sengers at bay. Captain Joachim Schroeder, seeing the Cadillac on the pier, had made his way to the deck. Schroeder, wearing his expertly tailored and pressed white dress uniform, cast an image of professionalism. "To what do I owe this visit, General? I expected to see you, but not this soon soon."

"My dear Captain, let me introduce you to Senor Steele of New York," Batista said in an uncommonly relaxed way. "He's here to retrieve a girl named Minnah Goldstein. Would you be so kind to locate her?"

Schroeder looked at Jake for a moment then excused himself. Returning to the bridge, he could be seen talking to a sailor. Jake became uncomfortable as pa.s.sengers pointed in his direction.

Schroeder returned. "I have sent for the girl. Please be patient, this is a large vessel. My pa.s.sengers have been cooped up on board for almost two weeks. It's inhuman to continue keeping them prisoner. I implore you to let them off the ship for even a short walk."

Batista lost his charm. "It is beyond my control to allow your pa.s.sengers off the ship. The time is rapidly approaching where a decision is going to be made by the government of Cuba if you will be allowed to continue mooring in our waters."

Jake was glad he wasn't in Schroeder's shoes when it became clear to the inmates that the ship was going back out to sea. Two sailors led a girl carrying a suitcase to the main deck. Jake reached into his pocket and produced the photo given him by the Greenbaums. She definitely was the girl in the picture.

Minnah needed to be supported. Without explanation, she had been told to gather her belongings and follow. She found herself barely able to stand before Schroeder and the Cuban who she recognized as the man who held the fate of the pa.s.sengers in his hands.

Schroeder placed his hands on Minnah's shoulders and explained to her in German that she was about to be set free. Why he didn't know, but the man with Batista was from New York, and she was to go with Herr Steele. Schroeder kissed her on the cheek and turned her over to Jake. "Mr. Steele, I present to you Miss Goldstein. She's a fine young woman, please take care of her. General, I suppose we have concluded our business. I'll await your further instructions." He saluted and turned away.

Jake picked up Minnah's suitcase, placed a hand under her elbow, and helped her down the gangway. The crowd on the pier surged forward, demanding an explanation for Minnah's removal from the ship. A series of machine gun bursts over their heads stopped a riot in the making. Batista wasn't smiling as he climbed into the front seat allowing his visitors to take the large rear seat. Salutes were given, which Batista didn't bother to return. Minnah, still shaking, began sobbing as the car drove away.

Cesar was waiting at the end of the dock. Batista instructed his driver to pull over. "Gentlemen, your limousine awaits. We have completed our business, and I must say, in a most efficient manner. In the future, I hope we may do further transactions. Give my regards to your a.s.sociates in the States."

The threesome got out of the car and walked toward Cesar's rusting heap. Batista sat in his car shaking his head. He couldn't understand what the fuss was over a ship of Jews. He should've sold the lot, ignoring the outside pressure being placed on his government from both the United States and Germany.

Vinnie took his place up front. "Get us to the airport as fast as this rolling s.h.i.tpile can go. I don't like the look on Batista's face."

Minnah, oblivious to what was happening, looked out the window. Jake laughed to himself about Sarah saying the girl had studied English. She didn't understand a word.

As they approached the airport, Minnah tried to ask if they were going on a plane. When words failed Jake, gestures took their place. He formed a plane with his hand, causing her eyes to widen. He couldn't tell if she was excited or scared stiff.

Cesar followed his boss' orders with reckless abandon, turning into a narrow driveway behind the huts on two wheels. Jake braced Minnah for a crash that would end with the jalopy on its side. With metal crunching in his brakes, Cesar ended the joyride forty feet from the Cessna.

Vinnie had his door open before the Chevy came to a stop. He wasn't joking when he said he wanted off the island as soon as possible. "Torres!" he shouted for the mechanic who wasn't in his shed. "Where in the h.e.l.l is that son of a b.i.t.c.h. I told him to be waiting for us, not to move from here. These greaseb.a.l.l.s are all alike, lazy and irresponsible. If I get my hands on him... Cesar, unchock the wheels while I get the plane ready. Jake, get the girl inside and buckled up."

Jake put his shoulder against the car door to get it opened. As he reached for the suitcase, Minnah jerked it away. "It's going to be okay, we have to go," Jake said, trying to coax from the car.

"Nein!" she shouted back.

Vinnie finished his pre-flight procedures. He opened the window in the c.o.c.kpit and screamed across the tarmac over the noise of the engine, "Get her out of the car now! Cesar, give him a hand. Pull her out by the hair if you have to."

Cesar ran over. Jake didn't want to forcibly remove the girl who had been manhandled since leaving Germany. "Minnah, let's go!" She sunk further into the seat. Jake grabbed her by the arms, dragging her kicking and screaming from the Chevy. Minnah found herself hoisted over Jake's shoulder.

Cesar opened the pa.s.senger door of the plane. Vinnie reached out for the girl. Empathy didn't exist in Vinnie's vocabulary. He took hold of Minnah and threw her into the rear of the plane. "G.o.d d.a.m.n it Jake! Whack her if you have to. Make sure she is tied in. Cesar, b.u.t.ton things up around here, and I'll be in touch in a couple of days. Adios Adios."

Jake buckled himself in, as Vinnie revved the engine. The Cessna sped through the taxiway, following the painted yellow arrows to the main runway. "What is your rush? You've been like a mad man since we left the dock," Jake yelled over the engine noise.

Vinnie monitored the gauges on the instrument panel as he maneuvered the plane to the flight line. "Stop acting like a rabbi. While you were on the ship, I talked to the lieutenant. I've dealt with him in some deals. He purposely didn't acknowledge me in front of his boss. Gomez told me that Batista might try to double-cross us, maybe even shoot us down. He doesn't want it known that he let the girl off the boat. He's crazy enough to do it. He would say that we left in one piece, sometimes things happen over the ocean." Vinnie pushed the throttle to maximum, not waiting for clearance to take off. "Reach under the seat and remove the package."

Jake pulled off the brown wrapping paper to reveal a Thompson submachine gun. Minnah took one look at the weapon, and began to wail like an air raid siren. "Nein! Nein!" Jake said. Minnah took the hint, sat still and whimpered. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, pointing the weapon toward the window.

"You're going to shoot anything or anyone who tries to stop us. Make believe that this is a stagecoach in the old West. Hold on!" The Cessna quickly picked up speed.

Just as the Cessna began to liftoff the runway, a black Ford raced toward them. "Get ready!" Vinnie yelled. "Give them a reason to turn away. This is Batista's way of saying thank you."

Jake stuck the barrel of the Thompson out through a firing port in the window. He waited for the target to get into range. The Ford was close enough that Jake could make out the faces of the four occupants. Two rifles popped out of the Ford. Jake could see them fire, but like most things on the island, their aim was off. He fired three quick bursts, shattering the windshield of the Ford. The car veered crazily to the right, running off of the tarmac into the muddy gra.s.s.

After what seemed like eternity, they were airborne. The run of four-hundred feet could have been a hundred miles. Vinnie had the plane in a power left bank maneuver. Minnah screamed as air pressure built in their ears.

Jake looked around the perimeter of the plane, keeping his eyes alert for trouble. "I don't think Batista is going to be happy about me taking out his men. I'm pretty sure I hit the two up front."

Vinnie continued looking fore and aft. "Keep your eyes open. We won't be able to relax for another couple of minutes. Batista could've sent a plane up when he found out we got off the ground. I'm not afraid of that greaseball. I'll be back down here in a couple of days. He understands business like we do."

Jake checked his watch-5:30. They wouldn't be in Florida until almost 7:00. He eased back into his seat and closed his eyes. The roar of the engine was like a lullaby.

Jake woke with a startling punch to his left arm. "Time to wake up Rip Van Winkle. Thank G.o.d she also fell asleep," Vinnie said, thumbing to the rear. "We're approaching the Florida coast. Throw the Tommy gun into the ocean. If the Feds are waiting for us, I don't want to be caught with the gun." He adjusted the fuel mixture. "Do you have a plan for getting her back to New York?"