As the drone of bombers grew louder, the two thugs, Juan and Felipe, broke their trance and jumped through the window of the office. They both raced across the landscape, weaving between wheat silos and ornamental farm machinery.
Smith stared at the ceiling of the missile base, then also turned to run.
“Halt—you running dog capitalist pig!” Colonel Ivan shouted as Smith made for the door.
“I’ll get him!” Enrique said as he lunged toward the redheaded lieutenant.
Seeing no other weapon handy, Ivan threw the heavy gold-filled attaché case, which struck Enrique squarely in the head. The Cuban colonel went down like a sack of Hungry Mouth wheat. The attaché case skidded across the floor, one step ahead of Smith.
Ivan dashed after Smith, but tripped on the Cuban’s body and went down, smack
