The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 32

It was the blackest night. The rain was coming down, but not in such torrential spurts. Beyond midnight it had dissipated into a simple, quiet sprinkle that actually felt relaxing to one's skin. Livingston, with his black parka wrapped around his upper body, came out of the mouth of the cave while in the midst of lighting a cigarette. The pungent aroma of burning Ganga hung in the air while the sounds of bats' wings flapping in the night could be heard nearby.

The worn man, with his pistol secured in his right pocket, came to the very edge of the mountain and stood. He looked down into the black, cavernous bottom and listened at the various nighttime creatures that dwelt from within.

"Fucking disgusting country," he spat down the mountain with such spiteful vigor.

"Say dere." A voice sounded out all of the sudden.

Livingston wasn't even startled. He just turned around to see a tiny glow with a silhouette behind it drawing closer and closer to him. The nearer the silhouette approached the more the smell of Ganga reeked into Livingston's nostrils causing him to blow the stench away.

"You and the rest of them are gonna smoke your brains out with the shit." Livingston took a puff of his cigarette.

Philippe, with his head underneath his own parka, approached Livingston and attempted to hand the man his pipe only to have Livingston refuse.

"You know I don't care for that." Livingston snickered.

"It good for de lungs, mon," Philippe snorted.

"We'll see if you say that when you're sixty, mate." Livingston smirked.

The two men stood at the edge of the mountain and smoked on and on before Philippe spoke up and asked, "Where did he say he was going again?"

"He never did say. But then again, do you really care?"

Philippe just turned his head as a response. Livingston looked all around at the darkness before spitting again down the mountain.

"Dat's why me and de boys smoke dis, mon, so we won't have to remember his face."

Livingston looked over at the young man with the cockiest expression. "You and those other fellas have been smoking that stuff since you were boys. Who do you think you're fooling?"

"Ya see him, he look like

I saw him. I've been seeing him for years now. I just can't believe you all haven't gotten

before looking back at Livingston. "How ya get used to dat?" He pitched his pipe down the mountain's edge. "All our lives we hear

"From a nightmare," Livingston cut in. "Yeah, I know.

at least two hours to get her to

you and the others to make sure she holds off on that till after I dynamite that

"What was dat?" Philippe spun around and stared

Livingston asked, "What, are you

all directions while Livingston

say,

others can't wait to get

"Yeah, you and

tuned his lantern to Livingston's face and queried, "I guess ya go back to England when all of

"Not likely. Not with Interpol still on my tail. Nope, Cuba is my

"What's in

moment or two before answering. "That's where a lot of those old Nazi bastards are hiding out.

"It sounds like a nice

Mr. Castro and his regime aren't too fond of people of your color. Come to think of it, they're not too fond of mine either. But I think I

nuting here but de rain and de

turned to face Philippe at that second with a subtle grin on his face, as

should be used to

taken off guard, Philippe replied, "How ya

long drag of his cigarette, Livingston

Philippe explained.

"That is until you saw them face

Philippe just shook his head up and down before saying, "But you

out cigarette and tossed it down the mountain before snorting and replying, "The first time I met them, they appeared just like your average islander. But then again, there was always something off

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