paced impatiently while one advertisement followed another until finally the ticker displayed the still-falling indices. He tried the pay phone; it was still out of order. “Damn it all to hell!” he grumbled, stomping out the open doorway and turning toward Café Felipe.

Past the distant green hills, puffy white clouds piled one atop another. Robert glanced at the harbor. The boat with the black hull was underway, slicing cleanly through the tranquil water, headed toward the open sea beyond Cabo Rojo, its sail finding the warm breeze.

“Pirate ship,” he sneered.