Harbor of Spies by Robin Lloyd

Author:Robin Lloyd [Lloyd, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyons Press
Published: 2017-10-18T19:58:44+00:00

19

May 13, 1863

It was a wet, windy, squally afternoon three days later when Townsend arrived at the US Consulate adjacent to the central wharf area. Sheets of water flowed down the sides of the street, rushing toward Havana Bay in streams, carrying with it the debris, refuse, and sewage of the city. The summer rainy season had come early.

Townsend had taken even stricter precautions than usual to make sure he wasn’t followed, taking a wide detour through Old Havana, walking north from his rooming house to Lamparilla Street, and then losing himself in the crowds on Mercaderes before reaching Obispo Street. He thought for a moment he’d seen Salazar, but when a sudden squall unleashed buckets of water, he had ducked into a shop and came out through the back door using a newly purchased, steel-ribbed umbrella to hide his face. He hoped the rain and the umbrella had kept anyone from identifying him.

He looked up at the shiny brass sign on the colossal front door that read “United States Consul General, #1 Calle Obispo,” and he felt a hot shiver of apprehension. The heavy raindrops were pelting the rooftops so loudly he couldn’t even hear the clattering of the wheels from a passing horse and carriage. He had procrastinated about coming because he knew he would be perceived as a Rebel sympathizer, an enemy of the Federal government. He girded himself for a hostile interview. Just that thought made him want to turn around and walk away. But what choice did he really have? Emma had told the consul general all about him. For better or worse, Townsend knew he needed to give his account of what had happened to Michael Abbott, and what had happened to him. He needed to tell the truth.

Inside the Consulate, the ceilings were over twenty feet high with open rafters. There were about five or six people in the larger office, clerks and translators as well as deputies. The attendant at the desk took his name and told him to take a seat. Townsend had only been waiting for about ten minutes when a large door opened and a well-dressed man in a white linen suit and a small black tie walked over to him. He had a thin face, and curly black hair and a bookish, priestly smile.

“Good morning. You are Captain Townsend, I presume?”

Townsend nodded a reply.

“I am Thomas Savage, vice-consul general. I should explain that I am currently serving as the acting consul general.”

The young captain found himself in an office, surrounded by walls of bookcases with leather-bound books, and two large windows where a brass telescope had been strategically mounted on a table-top tripod. There were a few mahogany chairs with caned seats and backs next to a red leather-topped campaign desk, which gave an elegant polish to the room.

“Please sit down, Captain Townsend.” He pointed to the windows and the telescope. “As you can see this is my watchtower. Havana is at a strategic crossroads for the American war.

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