Free A King's Ransom by James Grippando Page B

comfortable evening in early autumn, without the persistent mugginess that usually lingered in South Florida until almost Halloween. Alex had removed her jacket and pulled her shoulder-length hair back to keep it from blowing in the breeze. Her profile was classic. Whether she was the more beautiful was hard to say, but, no slight to Jenna, she was definitely more intriguing.
    So, how'd you get caught up in FARC?
    We were stopped at a traffic light on Coral Way. Just ahead was the world's first Burger King restaurant. Decades later it was still there, but everything around it had changed as the new Miami took over the old Miami - My-ama, my grandmother used to call it, an era as extinct now as the old notion of a healthy suntan. To my left was the original Latin American Cafeteria, where people waited in line outside for a chance to sit at the long, horseshoe-shaped counter and order everything from medianoche sandwiches to milkshakes made with exotic fruits like mamey. At the walk-up cafE across the street stood a group of Spanish-speaking men dressed in guayaberas, traditional Cuban shirts. Espresso served in little plastic cups inspired friendly arguments over bEisbol and politicians who were too soft on Castro. Just ahead, the man in the intersection with the big straw hat was hawking bags of limas from the tree in his neighbor's backyard. It was the Miami I'd grown up with, the cultural mix I liked.
    Alex said, I wouldn't say I was caught up in FARC. I just joined.
    Why?
    The usual burning philosophical issues that propel teenage girls to do anything.
    Meaning what?
    My boyfriend was in it.
    I suppose we've all been there on some level. Except that the craziest thing I ever did was sign up for the glee club.
    Hmm. Not sure which of us was the bigger sucker.
    True. I got dumped about two weeks after I signed up. How about you?
    That's about the size of it.
    Did he meet someone else?
    No. He took a bullet in the head.
    For a second I felt like I'd taken the bullet. I'm sorry.
    Don't be. He was a drug-addicted worthless piece of trash who didn't think twice about kidnapping people like your father.
    Did he ever kill anyone?
    Yes.
    I hesitated, then asked, Did you?
    Why do you want to know?
    Just thought it might come up with my mother. You know, the natural progression of things. Hello, how are you, ever been a revolutionary?'
    She smiled cryptically. Would it make a difference to you if I had?
    I wasn't sure it would, but I was beginning to wish I hadn't asked. I suppose not. Like you said in Duncan's office, that was your other life.
    Exactly.
    The light turned green, and we were flowing with the traffic again. I waited for her to elaborate, but after several moments of silence it was clear that she wasn't about to. FARC was her other life. That was that. Maybe she had killed someone, maybe she hadn't.
    Just don't piss her off, Nick.
    Tell me about your father, she said. What's he like?
    Just a regular guy. I reconsidered, then said, Actually, he's pretty extraordinary. Dad never went to college. Went straight from high school to Vietnam in the early seventies, came home and fell in love with my mom. She was nineteen when she got pregnant. They married, and six months later it was the three of us.
    So you're a love child?
    Yeah, but they didn't stay together for twenty-six years because of me. After all these years, after all they've been through, they really are still in love.
    Does your mom help in the business?
    That's totally my dad's passion. He started it with one old lobster boat that on a good day broke down only once. Now his company has forty boats pulling twenty tons of lobster a week out of Nicaragua. It's a cutthroat business, but I daresay there's not a guy in it who doesn't trust my dad.
    Sounds like you think highly of him.
    I do.
    You two must be close.
    That gave me pause. To hear me gush, it did sound as though we were close. I gave her the same kind of half-baked answer that she'd given me when I'd