Skeleton Key

The story goes that when he landed there, the place was uninhabited. But he found a single skeleton, a conquistador in full armour, sitting on the beach. That was how the island got its name. Anyway, no matter what it‟s called, it‟s actually a very beautiful place. A tourist resort.
    Luxury hotels, diving, sailing… We‟re not asking you to do anything dangerous, Alex. Quite the contrary. You can think of this as a paid holiday. Two weeks in the sun.”
    “Go on,” Alex said. He couldn‟t help sounding doubtful.
    “The CIA is interested in Cayo Esqueleto because of a man who lives there. He‟s a Russian. He has a huge house—some might even call it a palace—on a sort of isthmus, that is to say, a narrow strip of land at the very northern tip of the island. His name is General Alexei Sarov.”
    Blunt pulled a photograph out of the file and turned it round so that Alex could see. It showed a fit-looking man in military uniform. The picture had been taken in Red Square, Moscow. Alex could see the onion-shaped towers of the Kremlin behind him.
    “Sarov belongs to a different age,” Mrs Jones said, taking over. “He was a commander in the Russian army at a time when the Russians were our enemies and still part of the Soviet Union.
    This wasn‟t very long ago, Alex. The collapse of communism. It was only in 1989 that the Berlin Wall came down.” She stopped. “I suppose none of this means very much to you.”
    “Well, it wouldn‟t,” Alex said. “I was only two years old.”
    “Yes, of course. But you have to understand, Sarov was a hero of the old Russia. He was made a general when he was only thirty-eight—the same year that his country invaded Afghanistan. He fought there for ten years, rising to be second in command of the Red Army. He had a son who was killed there. Sarov didn‟t even go the funeral. It would have meant abandoning his men and he wouldn‟t do that—not even for one day.”
    Alex looked at the photograph again. He could see the hardness in the man‟s eyes. It was a face without a shred of warmth.
    “The war in Afghanistan ended when the Soviets withdrew in 1989,” Mrs Jones continued. “At the same time, the whole country was falling apart. Communism came to an end and Sarov left.
    He made no secret of the fact that he didn‟t like the new Russia with its jeans and Nike trainers and McDonald‟s on every street corner. He left the army, although he still calls himself General, and went to live—”
    “In Skeleton Key.” Alex finished the sentence.
    “Yes. He‟s been there for ten years now—and this is the point, Alex. In two weeks‟ time, the Russian president is planning to meet him there. There‟s nothing surprising in that. The two men are old friends. They even grew up in the same part of Moscow. But the CIA are worried. They want to know what Sarov is up to. Why are the two men meeting? Old Russia and new Russia.
    What‟s going on?”
    “The CIA want to spy on Sarov.”
    “Yes. It‟s a simple surveillance operation. They want to send in an undercover team to take a look around before the president arrives.”
    “Fine.” Alex shrugged. “But why do they need me?”
    “Because Skeleton Key is a communist island,” Blunt explained. “It belongs to Cuba, one of the last places in the western world where communism still exists. Getting in and out of the place is extremely difficult. There‟s an airport at Santiago. But every plane is watched. Every passenger is checked. They‟re always on the lookout for American spies and anyone who is even slightly suspect is stopped and turned away.”
    “And that‟s why the CIA have come to us,” Mrs Jones continued. “A single man might be suspicious. A man and a woman might be a team. But a man and a woman travelling with a child…? That has to be a family!”
    “That‟s all they want from you, Alex,” Blunt said. “You go in with them. You stay at their hotel.
    You swim, snorkel and enjoy the sun. They do all the work. You‟re only there as part of their cover.”
    “Couldn‟t they use an American boy?” Alex asked.
    Blunt coughed, obviously embarrassed. “The Americans would never use one of their own young people in an exercise like this,” he said. They have a different set of rules to us.”
    “You mean they‟d be worried about getting him killed.”
    “We wouldn‟t have asked you, Alex,” Mrs Jones broke the awkward silence. “But you have to leave London. In fact, you have to leave