Through Harper's night vision goggles, the fireball from the explosion seemed to take on the intensity of a super nova. He screamed as he covered his eyes. The shock wave slammed him against the rocks rupturing both his eardrums. The ground shook and caved in. He dropped into blackness and hit the bottom hard. Rocks and debris poured off the side of the mountain and covered the opening. In an instant, Captain Harper disappeared.
Dust and smoke filled the air as a Jeep came up the road and ground to a halt. Flames from the trailer lit up the clearing. Part of the floor and a portion of one wall were all that remained. Burning debris lay scattered across the clearing and into the trees on the far side. Captain Juan Ramirez, Regional Chief of Cuban Army Intelligence, along with three other soldiers, got out. Ramirez walked around kicking chunks of charred wood and twisted metal, and then turned to the soldiers. “Find the bodies,” he said. “Then we can close this matter forever.”
THE SEARCH
Captain Harper tasted blood in his mouth as he struggled to open his eyes — the lids felt like lead weights. He saw nothing but blackness, and he moaned from the pain in his chest and limbs. Harper reached out and touched cold wet rock. He found that he had fallen into a small crevice partially filled with water. With shaking hands, he examined his chest and arms — he was soaking wet. How much from the water and how much from his own blood, he couldn't tell.
A wave of nausea swept over him and he threw up. The muscles in his chest and stomach spasmed, and the pain from his ribs made him pass out.
Harper awoke groggy and confused. He crawled out of the water to a gritty patch of flat rock, coughing from the choking dust. Wiping the dirt and sand from his eyes, he tried to make out what was around him. Then he remembered the small flashlight in the leg pocket of his fatigues. Retrieving it, he held his breath and flicked the switch. The faint light barely penetrated the darkness, offering little comfort. He was suddenly aware of the night vision goggles hanging around his neck. Harper put them on and blurred green shapes materialized around him. He realized the auto-masking function had closed the electronic aperture within microseconds of the blast, saving his eyes. Thank God, he wasn't blind, he thought.
He tried to remember what had happened. There was a massive explosion. Was it an accident? No, the trailer must have been booby-trapped. But why? Someone wanted to hide something bad enough to kill for it. Were the explosives meant for him and the Rangers or any hapless person that came wandering along?
As a new wave of pain swept over him, Harper closed his eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness. When he awoke, he had enough strength to sit up and look around. Dirt and debris cluttered the mineshaft. A wall of rock and rubble blocked the entrance. He got to his feet and took a hesitant step before dropping to his knees. Again, the pain made him cry out. He figured he had lost a lot of blood and was probably bleeding inside.
Harper shook his head. “I'm not going to die in this filthy place,” he swore. There had to be a way out, but he couldn't move the tons of rock covering the entrance. With only one other choice, he struggled to his feet, turned and limped into the blackness of the mine shaft.
“We've only found two bodies, sir.” The soldier stood stiffly in front of Captain Ramirez.
Overhead, the clatter of a helicopter echoed across the valley as his men searched the surrounding jungle.
“I find that hard to believe. There was a great deal of dynamite, but certainly not enough…” He rubbed his hand across his neatly cropped beard. “Keep looking.”
Ramirez returned to the Jeep and watched the activity around him. What a strange series of events, he thought. First the Koreans less than a month ago, now the Americans. What was so special about this place? So much secrecy coming from the highest levels. Normally his job was an easy one — rounding up a few rafters headed to Florida. But suddenly the Koreans came and reopened the old mine. They worked day and night for weeks hauling away a lot of ore before sealing up the entrance. Then there was word that the Americans might come, too. His orders were to set a trap and make sure there were no survivors. Headquarters needed confirmation that the mission was a success, that all were dead. He must radio in a report soon. Ramirez drummed his fingers on the dashboard of the Jeep. The body would turn up, he thought. They always do.
Harper adjusted the night vision goggles to their highest sensitivity. With the aid of the flashlight, they produced faint, blurred images. He still had to feel his way along the mineshaft. And what a primitive operation it was, he thought. Mining technology like everything else in Cuba was decades behind the times.
The shaft split — the way to the right inclined slightly while the left passage sloped downward. Harper tossed a mental coin, entered the tunnel to the right and followed as it snaked its way for hundreds of meters through the rock. Finally, he grew tired and stopped. Battling fear and pain, he lay down, closed his eyes and slept.
He awoke stiff and weak but soon managed to get up and continue. After an hour of slow progress, he found the shaft had split again. This time the right tunnel narrowed while the left branch disappeared into darkness. He could see definite signs that the one on the right resulted from an explosion. Renewed strength flowed through his body when he realized someone had blasted their way into the shaft from another passage. He moved into the narrow opening on the right, confident now that there was another way out.
The sun dropped behind the mountains and casted long, dark shadows down through the valley. Captain Ramirez was tired and annoyed — there was no trace of the third body. The light faded and he was running out of time. He must report to headquarters soon. So he paced back and forth with an urgency he hoped was not missed by any of his men.
Ramirez heard an approaching vehicle and stopped to watch a small four-wheel-drive pickup approach and park beside his Jeep. A man got out — Ramirez recognized Manuel Perez, head of the provincial mining office.
“Greetings, Señor Perez,” Ramirez said as the man approached. “It is kind of you to come out so far into the mountains.”
“What is this all about, Captain?” Perez was a tall, dark-skinned man dressed in work clothes. He wore thick glasses perched on a hawk-like nose. His voice had a high-pitched nasal quality that irritated Ramirez.
“An accident. We are looking for a possible survivor, someone who might be badly hurt. I called you because I hoped you could help.”
“I will do what I can, but you seem to have plenty of men already.”
“I did not ask you here to help search. I simply need information and you know this region well.”
“True. I managed this mine for many years until it was shut down,” Perez said. “What happened here?”
“Unfortunately, that is classified.” Ramirez spoke with authority. “But whatever you can tell me about your operation would be helpful. Are there any places in the area where an injured man might go and hide? And is this the only mine in the valley?”
“There is nothing here but jungle, Captain. And yes, this is the only mine.” Perez nodded toward the rocks covering the entrance. “Who sealed it up?”
“I'm sorry, but that, too, is classified.”
“Could I have a look?” Perez asked.
“Of course.” Ramirez motioned and they walked across the clearing. He glanced at his watch. Time was running out.
Perez took a few minutes to examine the area around the pile of rocks. Finally he looked up. “There has been a recent cave-in here. It appears that a small landslide covered the opening to the cave-in. It is possible that your missing man might be buried right here beneath our feet.”