Dead Man's Land by Jack Patterson (digital e reader .txt) 📕

eyes closed, Prado rolled over and moaned. He squinted at the two men reaching down to pick him up. Prado’s knees almost buckled as he tried to stand upright.

The man pressed his finger underneath Prado’s chin, lifting it up so he could look him in the eyes.

“My son was one of your biggest fans, you know,” the man started. “He worshiped you, adored you. He even copied your batting stance at the plate. And how do you reward loyalty to you?”

The man turned away from Prado and paced toward the other side of the room. “You turn your back on this country and your team,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. He walked back toward Prado and glared at him. “How could you do such a thing?”

Prado didn’t flinch.

The man sucker-punched Prado in the gut, causing his target to double over on the floor. Prado moaned.

“That’s what it felt like to my son.” He paused. “That’s what it felt like to me. You distracted the team and they lost to the Nationales.”

Prado shook his head. “They would’ve lost with or without me.”

The man helped Prado to his feet then slapped him. “That’s not the point. You abandoned your teammates in the time of their greatest need.”

“Is this why I’m here? Because I abandoned the Grapefruit Cutters before the playoff game against the Nationales?”

The man threw his head back and chuckled. “Oh, no. You’re here for something far worse.”

“Please tell me what I did.”

“You abandoned your country.” He delivered another quick jab to Prado’s stomach. Prado staggered backward but managed to maintain his balance.

Coughing, Prado stumbled forward toward the man. “Abandoned my country?”

“Yes, in the hour of her greatest need, you rode off in a boat, hoping to find great riches in another land. You forgot about everyone you left behind—even your daughter.”

Prado’s eyebrows shot upward. “Where is my daughter? How is she? Is she okay?”

The man put his hands up. “She’s fine, but for how long I don’t know. That depends upon you. For now, she’s living in a state orphanage.”

“What about Liliana?”

“When you left, she had a horrible accident. She tried to jump off a bridge and kill herself, but she managed to live. So, we did what we always do in those situations—we decided it would be best if the Cuban government raised your daughter.”

“Where is she?”

“Now, now. If you cooperate, you might get to see her.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

The man pursed his lips and cocked his head as he eyed Prado carefully. “Anything?”

“Yes, anything.”

“Very well, then. Why don’t you first start by telling us why you left?”

Prado took a deep breath. “I wanted to make a better life for my family.”

“It seems instead you’ve made it worse.”

“If I would’ve known—” Prado’s words hung in the air, thick and foreboding. “That was never my intent.”

“There are always unintended consequences for our actions.”

The man nodded toward the two guards. One of them held Prado’s arms behind his back while the other delivered a series of punches to his face and stomach. Prado struggled to break free, but he was too weak. He slumped to the ground. After a few moments, the guard held his hands up.

“That’s enough. Leave him alone. Let him think about what he’s done.”

“What do you want from me?” Prado cried.

The guard knelt down beside him and looked Prado in the eyes. “You saw something before you left, something that night at the docks. We need to know what it was.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Prado said.

“Think about it, see if you can remember something. And if you can’t, think about how your daughter will be spending yet another night in an orphanage, away from the people who love her most—or love her at all.”

He motioned for the guards to leave and they exited the room. He followed closely behind before stopping at the doorway. He turned around.

“You’d be a fool not to listen to me,” he said. “I can help you out here.”

Prado, leaning forward on his knuckles, stood up and glared at the man. “I didn’t see anything. What’s your problem?”

“Don’t lie to me. I have tape that says otherwise.” He pulled the door toward him but didn’t shut it, leaving just enough room for his head to poke through. “You must decide how you want this to end—but I can assure you that if won’t end well if continue to lie to me. That much is for sure.”

The door clicked shut, followed by the clicking of heels against the prison’s concrete floor.

Prado looked down and watched a tear trickle off his cheek and onto the ground.

He needed to find a way out—not only out of prison, but also out of Cuba.

CHAPTER 21

WALLER FELL INTO A CHAIR next to Hampton in a conference room and glanced at his partner. He dreaded what was coming next, a sure dressing down from Alex Williams, the head of their field office. Their inability to capture Prado was sure to be a black eye on his otherwise sterling resume. However, this assignment held more urgency for Williams.

When the door unlatched, Waller turned around, expecting to see Williams. Instead, he saw Sheila Doleman. While her skirt bordered on inappropriate for such serious government work, Waller wasn’t complaining. Her curvaceous figure sauntered to the head of the table, entrancing him and his partner—so much so that they didn’t even notice their boss enter the room after her.

She tossed her shimmery blonde hair back and took a seat.

Williams snapped a few times. “What’s wrong with you guys? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a beautiful lady before.”

Waller and Hampton turned their attention toward him, embarrassed that he’d outed them.

“You may very soon well wish you’d never seen me,” Doleman said while continuing to look down at the papers in front of her.

Waller leaned forward. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

She looked up and eyed him cautiously. “Again? I never said who I was in the