Incident at Cape San Blas

By Ilmars Birznieks

A young and pretty Russian woman, Vita Bels, takes a position as a travel guide. But when she is sent to America in a container ship and disembarked at night in an isolated part of Florida, Cape San Blas, she discovers the position is a ruse and it forces her to work as an exotic dancer in a sleazy night club and expects her to offer customers sexual favors. An ex-fighter pilot, Paul Hansen, saves her from her predicament, but provokes the wrath of the mafia. While escaping its clutches, Vita and PAul manage to fall in love, but happiness eludes them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456732882

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© 2011 Ilmars Birznieks. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 4/16/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3287-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3288-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011902102

Printed in the United States of America

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

For My Family

Faith, Laura, Dan, Andrew

Special Thanks To My Editor, Barbara Hunter

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Postscript

Chapter 1

Summer 1993

Vita Bels reread for the third time the notice she had cut out from Pravda: Wanted: attractive young women with language skills to work as translators and guides in a newly-organized tourist industry. Call [phone]. She left her drab one-room apartment on Bolshaya Sadovaya Street and headed for the nearest public phone. With a pounding heart she deposited kopecks in the slot, lifted the handset to her ear, and punched the numbers. After the third ring, a soft but professional female voice answered in Russian, New World Travel Agency.

For a moment she hesitated, but then, gathering all her strength to control her excitement, said, "I’m calling regarding the notice in Pravda."

Which notice? the woman at the other end asked politely.

The unexpected question caught Vita off guard. Were there several notices? I only saw one. Leaning her arm against the wall to steady her trembling hand, she read the ad aloud.

Oh yes. I’ll connect you, the woman replied.

She waited patiently, listening to background music she did not recognize but found moody, in accord with her unquiet thoughts. I hope I’m lucky this time. I need this job desperately. My money is almost gone. My parents are dead. I have no living relatives. I have no close friends in Moscow. What will I do? Where will I go? What happened to the jobs the newly-found freedom was going to bring? Where are the promised economic reforms?

"Da."Another woman’s voice, this time aloof and distant, cut through her thoughts.

"Uh… yes. I… I’m responding to the Pravda ad for a job as a tourist guide," Vita said.

All right. What’s your name and age? the woman asked, sounding almost mechanical.

Vita Bels. Twenty-one.

Height and weight?

About 1.75 meters. But I don’t know how much I weigh exactly.

Approximately?

Maybe 55 kilos.

Education?

Secondary and…

Foreign languages? the voice cut her off.

I am fluent in English and German.

"Khorosho. Report at Hotel Ukraina, Suite 150, 2/1 Kutuzowski Prospekt, at ten o’clock tomorrow morning for an interview." Click.

Vita wanted to ask some questions to assure herself the job notice was legitimate, but the abrupt end of the conversation prevented it. An uneasy feeling suddenly enveloped her, the type of dread one senses before something unknown. She hung up the receiver and slowly walked back to her apartment. Why was the woman so brusque? It almost sounded as if she could care less if I applied for the job or not. Maybe she has too many applicants. Yes, that must be it… too many job seekers. It’s like that everywhere in Russia these days. The woman was just tired. Oh well, I’ll find out tomorrow at the interview.

At ten o’clock the next morning, wearing her best flowered cotton dress and blue pumps with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, Vita entered the tastefully-decorated but stuffy Suite 150 at Hotel Ukraina. Several other young women were already waiting in the living room. She gave her name to a matronly-looking woman hunched behind a small, cluttered desk next to a curtained window and seated herself in a nearby armchair.

She watched as the other young women, one by one, walked into an inner room. As if guarding some precious secret, they returned tightlipped but smiling. She wondered what they were asked behind the closed door. Did their smiles indicate that the agency hired them as tourist guides?

Finally her turn came. As she entered the inner room, she saw two double beds and a large picture of a lush meadow in bright sunlight on the wall above them. On one bed sat a middle-aged man in khaki slacks and green polo shirt. Despite his casual dress, his handsomely rugged face and graying hair gave him a distinguished appearance. He was leisurely smoking a cigarette. An attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties sat on the other bed. She wore a lime pantsuit with matching sandals and a stylish straw hat. She was busily scrawling something on a small notepad, but she motioned with her head for Vita to sit in a club chair at the foot of the bed.

Vita obeyed, but as she slid into the chair, carefully crossing her legs, the same feeling that something was amiss returned. What kind of an interview is this? Why are a man and a woman sitting on beds in a hotel room? Aren’t interviews usually conducted in an office? I have to be careful.

Vita Bels! It’s not a Russian name. The woman spoke up without introducing herself, jolting Vita from her troubling thoughts.

I believe it’s Latvian. My parents were born in Latvia, Vita replied, trying to control her trembling voice.

The woman immediately noticed her uneasiness. Don’t be afraid. We’re not here to interrogate you. We’re not the police. We just want to make sure you’re qualified for the job we may have for you. You understand that, don’t you?

Assured by the woman’s attempt to calm her, Vita nodded.

But you were born in Russia, right? the woman continued.

Yes. Near Tomsk.

What brought you to Moscow?

I was looking for work.

What kind of work?

When I first arrived, I was hoping to find some kind of position as a translator. But there was nothing available for translators. Lately I’ve been looking for any kind of a job… anything.

The woman nodded. Yes, times are tough. But you’re in luck. I think we can offer you a position as tourist guide, provided you have no objections to working abroad.

Abroad? Vita asked excitedly, making sure she had heard the woman right.

Yes. The New World Travel Agency needs women like you to fill a number of vacancies all across America, the woman informed her, lighting a cigarette.

Vita was thrilled. America! The attraction of that country hypnotized her. Gone was her fear, her anxiety. All she could think about now was the chance to begin a new life in a country she had dreamed about since childhood. How could it possibly be wrong to have a job in America? I don’t care whether these people are legitimate or not. As long as they get me to the country of my dreams, that’s all I care about.

The woman studied her closely, puffing on her cigarette. From your facial expression, I can tell you have no objections against working for us in America. Am I right?

Vita nodded cheerfully. Yes.

Good. Now listen carefully, the woman said, extinguishing her half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray on the night stand. These are our instructions. First, you must fill out this application for a passport. As the woman talked, she handed Vita an official-looking document. You should return it to us as soon as possible with a passport-sized picture. We will file the application on your behalf. This way there won’t be any needless delays. Second, if you have any personal matters, you must settle them immediately, pack a small carry-on suitcase with the bare necessities, and report back here within two weeks, ready to travel. We will have your passport and the necessary tickets ready for you. A visa will be issued later.

Vita’s head was spinning, but she managed to calm herself enough to ask, How will I travel? Where will I go in America? What kind of tourists will I guide?

The woman cast a stern look at her as if she did not expect any questions. After lighting another cigarette, she glanced at the man sitting on the other bed, but he just shrugged. All right, if you must know, she said, somewhat annoyed. You’ll travel from Moscow to Prague by plane. From there you’ll travel by bus to Germany. From Germany to America you’ll go by boat.

Boat? Vita asked, looking confused. What kind of boat? Why not by plane?

The woman took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling the bluish smoke through her upturned nose. You are inquisitive, aren’t you? None of the other girls were as curious. They were all happy to go without questions asked.

Vita fidgeted apprehensively. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut. The woman doesn’t like questions. She may yet refuse me. I’m sorry, she muttered.

The man spoke unexpectedly. Don’t apologize for asking questions, young lady. You’re as intelligent as you are pretty. You see, we can’t always answer questions. We’re a new company with limited resources. At this point we can’t afford to send you to America by plane. We have to resort to less-expensive transportation. Maybe in the near future we will be able to send our employees directly from Russia to America by plane.

The woman nodded and added, The other questions we can’t answer. We simply don’t know what kind of boat you’ll be taking at this time. The travel agency in America will determine the assignment you will have. We have no knowledge of that.

Thank you, Vita said nervously, getting up from the club chair.

The man quickly jumped off the bed and accompanied her to the door. Don’t worry, young lady, he said with a syrupy smile on his thin lips. We’ll take good care of you. You can be sure of it.

Vita managed an uneasy nod.

During the next two weeks, her excitement about the anticipated journey to America was still tempered by lingering anxiety Vita could not shake. She tried to keep busy to get her mind off things, but there was little to do. As instructed, she returned the filled-out application form for her passport to the New World Travel Agency and settled her private matters: giving notice for vacating her apartment, distributing her meager possessions to her neighbors, and packing and repacking her carry-on suitcase. After that she took long walks in Gorki Park or strolled through the GUM department store several times. Unfortunately, these diversions did not help. Oh, how I wish my parents were still alive! I desperately need somebody who can tell me whether I am doing the right thing or not, she thought, wiping sudden tears from her blue eyes.

At seven o’clock Monday morning, wearing a beige cardigan and brown slacks, Vita reported to Suite 150 in Hotel Ukraina. The matronly-looking woman she had met before handed her a passport, a tourist-class plane ticket, and just enough rubles for a taxi to the airport. "Don’t miss the nine o’clock Finnair flight to Prague," she said with a commanding voice.

But how will I know which bus to take when I deplane there? Vita asked.

Don’t worry, young lady, the woman answered. We know who you are. One of our representatives will meet you at the airport and escort you to the bus.

During the short flight Vita saw several other attractive young women, but they were not sitting near her. I wonder if they are going to America. If they are, it would be interesting to meet them… talk with them. She did not get a chance. At the Prague airport she saw them again, but they all walked through customs so quickly that once again she had no opportunity to meet any of them.

The middle-aged man who had participated in her interview, carrying a large sign that read New World Travel Agency, met her and five other young women outside customs. With a weary, listless smile, he escorted them to a tourist bus parked outside the main airport entrance. The bus driver, a portly balding man, stood by the door.

Helmut will be your driver and escort to Germany, the middle-aged man announced as Vita and the other women got on the bus. He will make a few stops to pick up more passengers in the city before he takes off for the border. Good luck. Have a pleasant trip.

Vita saw several other young women with small suitcases, along with a few older passengers, get on the bus at three stops. None of them took a seat next to her. As the bus left Prague traveling toward the German border, she glanced around to see if any of the young women sat behind or in front of her seat. Married couples occupied those seats. Oh well, she mumbled to herself. There will be plenty of opportunities to get to know the other passengers on the boat. We all have a long trip ahead of us.

Suddenly, she felt barely able to keep her eyes open. Her restless nights filled with feverish anxiety and anticipation were taking their toll. She stared at the passing countryside, which kept changing from sedulously-kept farmhouses and picturesque pastoral villages to intermittent gray-green fields and wide-stretching woods, but to no avail. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

The bus driver shook Vita awake near the German border. Miss Bels, I’m sorry but there is a change in your traveling plans, he said in German. You must get off here. A lady from the New World Travel Agency is waiting for you in her car. She will take you across the border and on to Hamburg.

What… who? she responded, still half asleep.

Please, Miss Bels. You must hurry, he urged.

She got up sluggishly. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she picked up her suitcase and followed Helmut. In semi-darkness he led her outside to a black Mercedes parked a few meters away. As they approached, a woman opened the car door on the passenger side. Get in, Vita. Put your suitcase on the back seat, she said in English. We have a long drive. She waved at Helmut, who immediately retreated toward the bus.

As soon as Vita climbed in, the woman put the car in gear and sped away. Get your passport ready, she advised. We’ll cross the border in a few minutes.

Vita nodded, reaching into her purse.

The crossing point into Germany appeared a short distance away like a brightly-illuminated oasis in the midst of a dense forest. The guards on both sides of the border briefly examined their passports and waved them on.

Once across the border, the woman introduced herself. By the way, I’m Diana Westerfield. I’m sort of a troubleshooter for all the overseas travel agencies.

Nice to meet you, Vita said. But please, Miss Westerfield, what is a troubleshooter? I have never heard of the word.

Diana, you can call me Diana, she insisted with a slight grin on her attractively-tanned face.

All right, Diana. What is a troubleshooter?

It’s a person who finds and eliminates sources of trouble, she explained.

Vita looked concerned. Do you have trouble?

Diana laughed. Sometimes. But it’s nothing for you to worry about. We shouldn’t have any problems. We’ll be in Hamburg by morning.

When do I get on the boat?

You’ll be able to board as soon as we get to the port, but the boat won’t sail until the other women arrive.

Other women?

Yes, the ones who were on the bus with you.

But why did you have me go with you while the others go by bus?

Diana smiled and said, Oh, two reasons. I heard you were an unusually pretty and intelligent young woman and I wanted to meet you. I also needed a traveling companion. It’s safer to be on the road at night with someone by your side.

What Diana said made Vita feel uncomfortable, but she did not know why. I would have preferred traveling on by bus with the other women. We could have gotten to know each other. Maybe we could have even shared our dreams, our hopes. I just don’t like riding in a car alone with a stranger.

Diana braked suddenly, turning the car off the road into a parking lot of a black-and-white timbered building. An illuminated sign advertised it as a country inn. Let’s freshen up and have a bite to eat before we hit the expressway, she announced, getting out of the car.

As Vita walked inside the inn, she had a full view of Diana for the first time. She reminds me of one of those women who models clothes for a department store. She looks so elegant in her blue jumpsuit.

After they washed their hands, combed their hair, and touched up their lipstick, they sat in a booth near an ornamented ceramic stove.

What would you like to eat? Diana asked as the waiter handed them menus.

Vita shrugged. I am not very hungry.

In that case, why don’t I order for you? Soup should be light enough, she said, reading the menu.

Fine.

Drink?

Tea, please.

As Diana ordered, Vita glanced around the room. With its small, stained-glass leaded windows, dark-wood beams, and booths, it looks like an old tavern I saw in a foreign movie. I often fantasized how wonderful it would be to dine in a place like that. In Russia I could not afford it, but in America I probably could. I should make enough money to eat out now and then.

It’s a nice place, don’t you agree? Diana said.

Vita nodded. Oh yes. I love it.

You don’t have restaurants like that in Russia, do you?

I do not know. Moscow has restaurants but nothing like this.

Germany has many cozy little inns similar to this along the roads. When I am traveling by car, I usually eat at one. I like… She stopped talking as the waiter approached with a large tray.

As he served Nuremberg sausages with kraut, pea soup, black bread, and a pot of tea, Diana resumed the conversation. Too bad you are not very hungry. Germany is known for its delicious sausages. You could’ve had what I am eating or pork schnitzel. Pork is also good here.

I am sorry. With all this travel excitement my stomach has suddenly gotten smaller.

Diana chuckled. It’s probably all tied up in knots.

Vita did not respond. She was busy sampling her soup. It was surprisingly tasty.

Within an hour they had eaten and left to continue on to Hamburg. Vita felt more at ease now. The ambiance of the country inn, the delicious pea soup, the hot tea, and talking to Diana had helped.

Chapter 2

During the rest of the trip, Vita dozed off and on, exchanged small talk with Diana, and listened to pop music on the radio. She would have loved to have seen more of the German countryside, but the dark night hid practically everything from sight.

Early in the morning at the Hamburg harbor they climbed aboard the container ship, Princess Weser. Stepping carefully among colorful metal containers stacked several meters high along a narrow, grimy path, they reached a spacious cabin on the quarterdeck. Vita wondered how Diana knew the boat so well. Is she one of the crew?

Diana quickly dispelled those thoughts. I’m getting off the boat as soon as I get you some traveling clothes, she said, leaving the cabin. I’ll be right back.

Vita gazed around the cabin. It reeked of some kind of detergent that almost took her breath away. Except for three double bunks with small dual cabinets at each end and a metal table with six folding chairs in the middle of the room, it was empty. With a heavy heart, she sat down on one of the bunks. I don’t like it. Why is the travel agency sending me to America on a container ship in a cabin that looks more like a prison cell? No windows, just bare walls, she thought, opening one of the cabinets.

I have a windbreaker, slacks, and sneakers for you, Diana said, entering the cabin. They should fit. I think you and I are about the same size.

She put the clothes on the table and sat down, looking at Vita. I know this place doesn’t look like much, but it’s the best we can do at the present. You’ll be served the same food as the officers on this boat. If you have any special wish or need, all you have to do is push the red button at the door. A woman attendant will come to help you any way she can. Any questions?

Is there a bathroom or a shower nearby?

Diana nodded. Sorry, I forgot to mention it. There is a toilet and two shower stalls across the hall from the cabin. They are to be used only by you and the other women here. You don’t have to worry about interruptions from the crew. As a matter of fact, this cabin area is off limits to them. You have bath towels and soap in the cabinets as well as sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. Okay?

Vita shrugged. I guess so. I better not ask any more questions. My father told me not to ask questions because they arouse suspicion. I don’t want anyone to be suspicious of me. I’ll wait and see what happens. As long as the boat goes to America, I’ll be all right.

Oh, one more thing, Diana said, interrupting Vita’s thoughts. Next to the toilet is a door leading out to the starboard side of the ship. This is an enclosed area for you to use. It’s large enough to walk around in or just enjoy the fresh sea air.

Flashing a reassuring smile at Vita, Diana got up. I must be going. I’ll drop by again tomorrow before the ship leaves. See ya.

Despite Diana’s parting smile, Vita was overcome with a sense of foreboding. I feel almost like a prisoner, not much better than how I felt when I lived with my father in the labor camp in Siberia. We were closed off from the outside world there, and I am closed off from the outside world here. What am I getting into? What is going to happen to me? Is this boat really sailing for America?

She took a shower, made up her bunk, and went outside. Standing by the railing, she scrutinized the dockside, but there was little to see. Tall, red-brick storage buildings obscured the view of the city. She had no interest in watching dockworkers operating huge cranes and lifting containers onto the ships.

Returning to her cabin, she found lunch on the table: cheese and ham sandwiches, an orange, and a bottle of mineral water. For the rest of the afternoon she eagerly awaited the arrival of the other young women. At five o’clock dinner came, served again while she was out on the deck. There was still no sign of any of the other passengers, and she barely touched the breaded pork chops, boiled potatoes, and cucumber salad. I wonder who brings the food. Maybe it’s the woman assistant Diana mentioned. I’d like to meet her. Maybe we could talk a little. The time would pass more quickly, she thought, pushing the red button by the door.

A couple of minutes later someone knocked on the door.

Come in, please, Vita said.

A heavyset woman wearing a white smock entered. How are you doing, Miss Bels? she asked in accented English.

Vita stared at her in disbelief. She looks almost like one of those labor camp guards I always dreaded. They were so rude. I don’t think I care to talk with her.

The woman smiled, showing a row of crooked teeth. You ate so very little. You look a bit pale. Are you sick? Do you need an aspirin?

I am all right, but I do not like being by myself. Where are the other women?

Be patient, Miss Bels. They’ll be here tomorrow, she explained, putting the dishes with the uneaten food on the tray and opening the door.

I understood they would be here tonight.

The woman shrugged and left.

Alone again, Vita reluctantly prepared for bed. After taking off her sweater, slacks, and sandals, she changed her mind. Putting her clothes back on, she switched off the light, lay down on the bunk, and covered herself with a sheet. I do not feel safe sleeping here alone in my underwear. This cabin is off limits to the crew, but they could ignore the ban. At the labor camp the guards were not permitted to enter the barracks without an officer, but they did. I heard they took advantage of single women