Good Men

"The good man is the man who, no matter how morally unworthy he has been, is moving to become better." John Dewey

Chapter 4: Lord Hurricane

"I'd like to bring my men with me," Crane said. "They have a right to know our plan."

"They don't have a right to know anything," Storm said, "and the plan is what Lord Hurricane says it is. All they need to do is follow orders and keep their mouths shut. Why do you want to make trouble?"

"I've bargained away their profit and agreed to a venture that could get them killed. I owe them something." Crane crossed his arms on his chest and eyed Storm levelly.

"You want to take it up with Wind?" Next to Storm, the big man shifted in anticipation.

"If I have to."

Storm shook his head at Crane's stubbornness and was about to retort when Cloud, silent as always on his bare feet, came up behind him. The boy scowled. "Lord Hurricane sent me to find out why you're taking so long with Crane."

"He wants to bring his men."

Cloud shrugged. "Let him. My father didn't forbid it." He unslung the rifle he was carrying on his shoulder and Nelson wondered briefly if he was big enough to shoot such a large gun accurately. He decided it would be best never to find out. "Go on." The boy prodded Crane with the barrel. With an expression that wavered between annoyance and amusement, Lee allowed himself to be escorted out into the sunlight. Kowalski and Nelson woke Patterson and gently pulled him to his feet, supporting him between them as they followed.

While Kowalski explained the situation to Patterson in low tones, Nelson looked around curiously as they passed through the camp, trying to take in everything—the placement of the buildings, the number of men, the guerrillas' defenses. Although the only soldiers they'd met were the two guards and Cloud, it quickly became apparent Hurricane's operation was much more substantial. Groups of women gathered together cooking over open fires and a number of young, sullen men lounged under the trees, playing cards. The buildings were small and flimsy, hemmed in on all sides by the jungle. Nelson surmised Hurricane had to stay one step ahead of the official government forces and couldn't afford to settle in one place too long or too openly.

Almost before he knew it, he was being ushered into the shady interior of a shack similar to the one they'd been held in since their capture. Whatever Nelson had expected Lord Hurricane to be like, he couldn't have anticipated the man who stood before him. In his spotless white shirt, tie, and wire-rimmed glasses, Hurricane looked more like a university professor than a revolutionary. The admiral dropped his eyes, but not quickly enough to keep the rebel leader from noticing his astonishment. Beside him, Patterson and Kowalski were staring openly.

"It's always amusing to see men's prejudices exploded," Hurricane said. His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that set off warnings throughout Nelson's body. Behind the glasses the man's eyes were like his son's: cold and hard.

"Don't pay any attention to them," Crane said. "They don't get out much." He leaned carelessly against the wall. "Let's get this show on the road! Do you have a good map of the northern shore?"

At a gesture from Hurricane, Storm came forward and spread a map on the table. The rebel leader and Crane pulled up chairs and pored over it together while the others waited uncomfortably in the center of the room. Crane glanced up after a moment and frowned. "Don't just stand there, Harry! Get a chair for Pat."

"Aye, sir." Nelson pulled a chair over and deposited Patterson in it. After he got the crewman settled he looked up to see Cloud watching him. He remembered the child's suspicions and his promise to keep a close eye on them all. Whatever the boy's faults, he was nobody's fool. Nelson found himself smiling slightly as he returned the child's gaze. Cloud sniffed and turned his back on the admiral. He studied the map over Hurricane's shoulder, careful not to lean on his father's chair.

"Wilson's facility is here on the bay, only a few miles from where you picked us up. We never got in that far." Crane made a small circle on the map to mark the location. "You've probably seen it."

"I have," Storm said. "I didn't know what it was for. I thought maybe that dog was making chemicals for weapons."

"He may be doing that, also," Crane said. "If he's using a chemical process to extract the gold from seawater, he could certainly be working with other, more dangerous, compounds, too." His eyes strayed to Nelson as he spoke. The admiral was looking at the floor, but Crane knew from his stance he was listening intently.

Hurricane ran his finger across the map, considering. "It's not far by water, but they expect trouble from the sea and will be on heightened alert after last night. We'll go through the jungle and come in the back door."

"How long will that take?" Crane asked.

"My men could do it in two days. With you slowing us down, I think three is a more realistic projection."

Crane nodded in agreement. "Pat won't be able to travel too quickly."

"That one?" Hurricane pointed at Patterson. "That one's not coming! He's staying here."

Patterson cast a quick, desperate look at Crane, but it was unnecessary. The captain's face was already falling into obstinate lines. "I'm not leaving him behind."

"You," Hurricane said, coiling away from Crane like a snake preparing to strike, "you think you are in a position to say what you will and will not do?" He wasn't a large man but when his voice rose, it filled the room.

Crane's eyes darted toward Wind, who had taken a step forward. Although he'd never doubted Lee's word, Nelson realized for the first time the true danger of their situation. Crane had shielded them, making light of the beating he'd taken even as he warned them of Hurricane's temper. Now the admiral was experiencing firsthand the capricious threats of violence Lee had been contending with since their capture.

"We made a deal," Crane said calmly, "and that deal included my men. All my men. Once you've gotten your gold, I'm meeting my boat and we're out of here. I can't traipse back through miles of jungle just to pick up one man and I'm not leaving him in this country by himself."

"You're such a caring captain," Hurricane observed.

Crane shrugged. "It's not good business to the leave anyone behind. I make a point of returning to Miami with the same number of people I left with— cuts down on family members seeking revenge. I don't like the thought of someone's disgruntled brother stabbing me in the dark."

Hurricane smiled and sat back, regarding Lee with amusement. "Still trying to ruffle your feathers up and give orders like you're the boss, aren't you? But you're just a coward at heart." He leaned forward and slapped the captain's cheek. The sound reverberated through the small room. "Very well," he said, "you can bring your man along, if it makes you happy." He turned to Patterson, Kowalski, and Nelson. "You don't know me yet, but Crane knows me. I have to teach him who's in charge and I suggest you observe and learn. He's been your boss so far, but now I'm your boss and you'll do as I say. Isn't that right, Crane?" He slapped the captain sharply on the other cheek. Kowalski made a low sound in his throat, but held his place at Nelson's side.

"Yes, that's right," Lee said softly.

Hurricane lifted his hand to strike him again, then changed the gesture at the last moment and patted the captain's face. "Good man," he said. He turned to Wind and Storm. "Bring us some food. These men are hungry and need breakfast before we leave!"

While Hurricane was busy giving orders, Nelson stole a quick glance at Crane. Lee's lip quirked up in a faint smile. When the admiral looked away he saw Cloud standing motionlessly behind his father, watching them.

X X X

They set out at mid-morning. Crane and his men were joined by Wind and Storm, as well as Hurricane, who had changed into crisp U.S. Army surplus camouflage. Four more of Hurricane's men, each carrying rifles and extra supplies, were to accompany them as well. As they were getting ready to leave, Cloud hurried up. The boy was in camouflage like his father and had found a pair of oversized boots. He had threaded a leather strap ran through the handles of his medical kit, allowing him to carry it on his back.

Crane shook his head when he saw him. "Hurricane, you can't be serious about bringing your son on an operation this dangerous?"

"He's a soldier and our doctor," Hurricane said, not even glancing at the boy. "That makes his presence necessary. It's not your concern."

They set off in single file, the men in front clearing their way with machetes when the undergrowth became too thick. When they stopped at midday to eat, Crane finally had a chance to speak with his men. He settled on the ground next to them and took a swig from his canteen. "OK, Pat?" he asked softly. "I'm sorry to drag you through this."

"It's better than staying behind," Patterson said.

"How's the arm?"

"Hurts, but not too much. I guess that kid knows his stuff after all." Patterson looked over to where Cloud was sitting by himself. A piece of fruit hung from the boy's hand, forgotten, as he watched a butterfly draw nectar from the flowering vine above his head.

"He watches everything we do," Nelson said softly.

"I know," Crane said grimly. "We'll have to be careful. Ski, no matter what happens, no matter what Hurricane does, I need you to stay cool."

Kowalski nodded. "Aye, Skipper. We've been through some rough patches and I've kept my temper. I'm not going to lose it now."

Crane clapped him on the shoulder. "See that you don't. I'm depending on you."

They marched all afternoon—hard going through pathless jungle. It felt like they'd been walking for miles, but Nelson knew they hadn't covered nearly that much ground. His muscles ached and he sank down gratefully on a stump when Hurricane called a halt, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

"You're too old for this." Cloud was standing nearby, observing him dispassionately. The boy was barely sweating and seemed impatient to move on. "You must be very poor, or an ex-convict who can't find other work, to be doing this at your age."

"I'm a sailor, child, not a bushwhacker." Nelson took a small sip from his canteen. Hurricane had said they would cross a river and could replenish their water, but he didn't want to risk running out before that happened.

The boy watched him drink, making no move to leave. "Is your heart strong?"

"Strong enough," Nelson said, irritation creeping into his voice. The child sounded like the doctors at the Santa Barbara Naval Hospital. "Look: I'm trying to rest. Why don't you go find someone else to annoy?"

The first hint of expression the admiral had seen entered Cloud's eyes, although Nelson wouldn't have been able to give it a name. "You're brave to talk to me that way," the boy said softly.

Nelson grunted in reply. He replaced the canteen on his belt and leaned on the tree behind him. "You like insects?"

"What?" The admiral had never seen the child off-balance before and he smiled at the boy's confusion.

"The butterfly you were watching earlier: it's called a "Cloudless Sulphur." It migrates long distances over open water. I've seen them crossing the sea, unafraid of the danger just below them." He put his head back, looking into the canopy far above. Sunlight filtering through the branches cast shadows on his face but a beam of light touched his eyes, kindling them. "They're fragile, just as we are. Even a gust of wind could push them into the waves, but they keep going, looking for something new, a better place than the one they left behind. It's instinct, not intellect, driving them, but the result is the same."

The boy looked at him doubtfully. "You don't sound like a sailor."

"How does a sailor sound?" Nelson met his gaze in open challenge and the child muttered under his breath, finally drawing off.

"You're playing with fire." Crane had heard the exchange and squatted beside the admiral. "You're the one who warned us about him."

"I'm just lighting a little flame," Nelson said. His appraising gaze followed Cloud as the boy shrugged back into his gear. He watched the boy adjust the medical kit on his back and swing the rifle onto his shoulder.

"Let's hope it doesn't become a conflagration," Crane said. "You know who's most likely to get burned."

"That thought, I promise you," Nelson said, squeezing his arm, "is never far from my mind."