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one block from the workers’ maintenance shack situated on the wharf above your landing dock. He’ll drive you to the prison, wait, and return you to the dock. From there he’ll ditch the truck and ride home on his bicycle.”
    â€œDoes he have a name? Is there a password?”
    Linda smiled slightly. “The password is dos .”
    Seng looked skeptical. “Two? That’s it?”
    â€œYes, he’ll reply with uno , one. It’s that simple.”
    â€œWell, at least it’s concise.”
    Linda paused to flick a series of switches on a small remote control. The images of the city dissolved into a 3-D interior diorama of Santa Ursula Prison without its roof, revealing the inner rooms and cells and their connecting passageways. “Our sources tell us there are only ten guards in the whole prison. Six on the day shift, two in the evening and two from midnight until six in the morning. You should have no problem overpowering the two on the station. They’ll think you’re a military unit come to transport the prisoners to another secure facility. You’re scheduled to gain entry at ten o’clock. Subdue the two on-duty guards and release the prisoners, then return to the submarine and make the ship by eleven o’clock. Any later and you jeopardize our escape out of the harbor.”
    â€œHow so?” asked one of Seng’s team members.
    â€œWe’re told the harbor defense systems are run through an operational test every night at twelve. We’ve got to be well on our way to sea before then.”
    â€œWhy not wait and go in after midnight, when most of the town is asleep?” asked a member of the landing force. “At ten o’clock, the local citizens will still be stirring around.”
    â€œYou’ll cause less suspicion if you don’t sneak around the streets before dawn,” she replied. “Also, the other eight guards are usually out on the town in the local bars until early morning.”
    â€œYou’re sure about that?” asked Seng.
    Linda nodded. “Their movements have been watched and clocked for two weeks by our agents in the city.”
    â€œUnless Murphy’s Law rears its ugly head,” said Cabrillo, “the release of the prisoners and the escape should go smoothly. The tough part comes when you’re all on board and we have to sail out of the harbor. The minute Castro’s harbor security forces see us pull up the anchor and turn down the channel for the open sea, they’ll know something is wrong and all hell will break loose.”
    Linda looked at Cabrillo. “We have the weaponry to knock them out.”
    â€œTrue,” Cabrillo acknowledged. “But we cannot fire the first shot. If they strike the Oregon first, however, we’ll have no choice but to protect ourselves.”
    â€œNone of us has been told,” said Seng, “who exactly are we breaking out of jail. They must be important or we wouldn’t have contracted for the job.”
    Cabrillo looked at him. “We wanted to keep it under wraps until we got here. They’re Cuban doctors, journalists and businessmen who opposed Castro’s government, all highly respected men and women. Castro knows they are dangerous if they are free. If they reach the Cuban community in Miami, they can use it as a base to instigate a revolutionary movement.”
    â€œIs it a good contract?”
    â€œTen million dollars if we deliver them to U.S. soil.”
    Seng and the others around the holographic display smiled. “That should add a tidy little amount to everyone’s nest egg,” he said.
    â€œDoing good for profit,” Cabrillo said with a wide grin. “That’s our motto.”
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    A T precisely 8:30, Seng and his small force boarded the Nomad 1000 along with the two crewmen who would pilot the sub and guard it during the operation. The sub looked more like a luxury surface yacht than a