To the south of the Cuban island, within an ancient building, Catholic monks toiled over their new manuscripts.

Father Soleye gazed down upon the workings of his writers with some admiration.

“I think that passage needs a bit of explaining brother.”

“You think so brother?”

“If we are to record these events accurately, explanations are quite necessary.”

“I’ll do my best,” the young monk said.

Father Soleye wandered over to the cold stone window, and gazed out over the frothing ocean.

“Such sights to see within God’s kingdom.”

As he gazed down over the rocks toward Haiti, he noted a strange looking boat that appeared to be heading in their direction.

“What do you think of this father?”

The head of this religious order turned toward the acolyte.

“I have completed the passage that you queried.”

The monk wandered back and peeked at the ornately written words.

‘Man suffered under the judgement of God.’

The father shook his weary head.

“How do you know that Our Lord sanctioned this?”

“It is an obvious plague father.”

“Ah,” the head said knowingly.

“You equate this with the old plagues of Israel?”

“I do father.”

“No loving God could have sent this contagion.”

“Then who father?” the young monk asked.

“Perhaps man himself.”

The young monk nodded as another monk rushed inside.

“Sorry to disturb father but strangers have arrived.”

The father thought back towards that strange boat.

“Are they demanding an audience?”

The monk nodded.

“Then of course I shall grant such a request.”

He gazed up at the image of the cross and walked off, as his minion led the way.

When they reached the bare reception area, father Soleye saw a tall but well armed man staring at them.

“You are the head?”

“I am indeed.”

“My men are in need of refreshment after such a short voyage.”

The holy man turned to his brother and said, “Prepare the soup and bread, and take it to our supper room.”

As the happy monk did as he was asked, the visitor walked around the old chamber.

“Quite run down isn’t it?”

“It has not changed in two centuries,” the monk answered.

“There are many of you here?”

“Just a few of us. We lost thirty during the disease.”

“Oh I see.”

The brother hurried in and said, “The food is ready father.” “If you summon your men sir, I will show them to our supper room.”

The visitor stepped outside for a moment and twenty ruffians quickly entered.

The monks led the way into a larger room that was dominated by a large table. The walls were bare, just like the reception room, and he invited them to sit down. As they ate, the father decided to leave them to it.

“Where are you off to?” the leader asked.

“To pray with my flock.”

“I would rather that you stayed here.”

The monk nodded and instructed his brother to pray without him as the leader spoke.

“Where we came from the toll has been pretty high.”

“As it must be elsewhere,” father Soleye said.

“What of Cuba though?”

“We were hit quite badly sir. Many of the homes are inhabited by the dead now.”

“What of your banks and such like?”

The monk shook his head.

“I do not enter such places. They are of no use to us.”

The ruffians laughed amongst themselves, as the leader called for silence.

“Then you would say that the money is just there for the taking?”

“What use is money in such times as these?” the monk asked.

“You are a strange man indeed,” the leader said.

“What are your real intentions here?”

The leader smiled.

“After our meal, we will of course have a look around before moving on.”

“We have nothing to hide,” the monk assured him.

The leader finished supping and stood once more.

“Could you show us around?”

Father Soleye nodded and led them into the main building.

“What is upstairs?” the leader asked.

“Just our sleeping quarters.”

The ruffian glanced at the bare walls and the leader nodded to his gang. As they dashed upstairs the monk said,”Those are private quarters.”

“There is nothing private here. Now where do you pray?”

The monk pointed to the door and the leader walked over and peeked inside. A call from the upper stair made him turn sharply.

“Only beds here.”

The leader smiled and said, “This room looks more promising.”

He entered the simple room where the monks knelt in prayer. They glanced up as the mob entered with the good father.

“Continue prayer,” father Soleye said carefully. “Do not mind us.”

The leader pointed to the rear wall cabinet and his mob rushed toward it. This time the good father intervened.

“There is nothing of value in there.”

The leader shoved him to the floor as the cabinet was thrown open.

“Well?”

His men shook their heads in disappointment at the prayer books.

“Why have you come here?” the monk asked picking himself up.

“To sup and rest father,” the leader said. “We are entitled to look around.”

“Look around yes but not to plunder.”

The leader did not like this and slapped the monk hard.

“If there is anything of value we shall liberate it.”

“What do you want us to do with him?” a mobster asked.

The leader looked the monks over and said, “Put them upstairs where they will do no harm.”

“I won’t allow it!” the good father protested.

The leader ignored him, as the monks were dragged out of the room and toward the bedchambers.

“This is wrong!” father Soleye said bitterly as he too was dragged off.

“There is no wrong done,” the leader said as his men took full control of the building.

“We should move on,” a ruffian said a few moments later.

“I give the orders here,” the leader spat. “This looks a good place to set up an HQ.”

“As you wish.”

The leader then pointed to the cabinet and said, “Move it away from the wall. I want to look behind it.”

When it was dragged to one side, the leader smiled at the obvious hidden compartment.

“I wonder what is inside this?”

He took the butt of his weapon, and smashed the small wooden door and thrust his hand inside. He smiled at the small wad of notes and summoned his men.

“It would appear that these monks are not so poor after all. Make them talk.”

The ruffians smiled and dashed upstairs, where the monks waited their fate.
...
“You cannot go to Santiago mam,” the security chief said sharply.

“We were supposed to move everyone to the north of Cuba sir. So how the hell did the monks remain where they are?”

“They simply said that God would protect them.”

Maria Castro rose from behind her desk and began pacing the floor.
As the security chief watched, she made a momentous decision.

“I want a helicopter squadron despatched within the hour to evacuate them to Havana. Naturally I will go with them.”

The security chief knew when he was beat.

“I’ll arrange it mam. A security squad will cover your back.”

“Thanks. You better find me a weapon then.”

She smiled as the chief walked out, before gazing at the painting of Fidel.

The six military copters flew over a quiet landscape that had once flourished with human lives and human values. Only at the farms was there any sign of activity. There Man still toiled at the fields and the animals. Trying to provide enough food for the surviving populace.

Maria and the security screen rode at the head of the squadron. As she gazed down, tears welled in her lovely eyes. Being the most powerful woman on Cuba, she brushed them away and hoped the monks would come along quietly.

“We are nearly there mam,” the pilot called as the machines circled over the eighteenth century monetary. It stood there overlooking the rocky coastline, a sentinel that seemed to be on permanent guard.

“Settle us down at an appropriate place,” she ordered.

The squadron came to rest and the security detail deployed in skirmish mode. As she watched, Maria just scowled.

“The monks are not going to open fire. Security indeed.”

They led her to the front door and knocked politely. After a few minutes, it became obvious that there was no one at home.

“Let’s go inside then,” Maria said turning the knob.

As they trooped inside the dismal foyer, an ominous silence assaulted their ears.

“Perhaps they were tipped off mam,” the security chief suggested.

Maria led the way inside the main building and shouted toward the upper floor.

“Something is terribly wrong here,” she muttered.

Maria walked into the prayer room and saw the shifted cabinet. As she thought this over, a sudden shout from outside was quickly followed by bursts of automatic fire.

The Cuban leader pushed herself against the wall, and raised her carbine for action. A moment later, her security chief staggered inside and collapsed at her feet.

It was obvious that the bullet-ridden body was quite dead.

“Madam president,” a rough voice called out. “You are quite surrounded.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“They call me Rodriguez.”

She did not recognise the name.

“Where are the monks?” Maria asked.

“Sleeping in their beds. Just as good monks should.”

“You are lying to me.”

“Your opinion does not count mam. We know that you are lightly armed. Come out peacefully and you will not be harmed.”

“What if I say no?”

An evil laugh rippled through the air.

“Then my men start shooting your pilots.”

Maria inhaled sharply and stepped into the enemy lair.

She stared coldly at the bodies of the security detail and saw the pilots lined up against the lower wall.

A tall but thin man with a dark bushy beard and carbine came forward.

“I’m Rodriguez, and these are my men.”

“From what stone did you crawl out from?”

“We arrived from Haiti to take our chances here.”

“I need to see the monks now.”

The thug smiled and two of his men marched her up to the second floor. As she was pushed roughly through the door, a swarm of flies rose from the butchered bodies.

“You damn pigs!”

“They would not give me what I wanted,” the leader said.

Maria was returned to the floor and asked, “What do you intend to do with me?”

Rodriguez smiled.

“With you as hostage we will get a handsome pay off.”

Maria shook her head proudly.

“You will get no cash from us.”

The thug grabbed her hair savagely and hissed, “Then we will send them your head.”

He released her and said, “Take her to the food hall and I’ll speak there.”

Once she was seated, the leader began.

“We really don’t want a lot mam. Just a cool million will do.”

“Hah!”

“Your unexpected arrival has given us the advantage you see. Your people will not risk losing you.”

“The emergency committee won’t stand for it.”

“I really do not care what they think. Once they realise the consequences of inaction, they will pay up.”

“I suppose that you want me to contact them for you?”

Rodriguez shook his head.

“We know the emergency frequency. One of my men is already telling them of our terms.”

“They will want proof of the claim.”

Rodriguez laughed happily.

“I think one of your pilots has graciously furnished such proof.”

Maria simply glared at him.

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

The thug bowed.

“When we saw the approaching copters, I knew that our luck had changed.”

Maria had no reply to that of course. So, she looked at her folded hands and mulled the problem over.