Cuba Blue (40 page)

Qui asked “What sort of danger?”

“Without your written assurance,” he said, talking her arm and walking her to the door, “that’s not something I will discuss with you.” He opened the door and urged her out.

When Qui objected, JZ said, “Let me handle this, Quiana. Like I said, I have authority to seal this bargain, and as you’ve admitted, you don’t.”

Pushing her across the threshold, Alejandro added, “Here’s a parting gift for you, Lieutenant. Your boss bas been under scrutiny for time, and I predict that you won’t have to suffer him much longer.”

A reluctant, frustrated, and now puzzled Qui glared at both men as the door closed in her face.

Moments later, Alejandro closed the balcony doors and turned the bedside radio on. “Casa Grande has had the most extensive renovation…if you count the electronics.”

“Mr. Zayas, you must tell me how you managed to get Cavuto to blow the wrong boat. He spoke of a spectacular explosion. Even laughed about it in private last night.”

“Ruiz blew a rowboat which we set adrift with the bomb and Luis’s Christmas tree lights,” explained JZ, finding that he liked this man, despite all the shades of gray about him.

Chuckling, Alejandro joined JZ at the table. “So Cavuto made yet another mistake…a rowboat, he blew up a fucking rowboat!”

Once the laughter faded, Alejandro said, “Now, I will tell you this, the man at the center of these murderers is Humberto Arias as I’m sure Father Cevalos or Pasqual has already told you.” Alejandro paused, his face now tight with anger. “Arias is the lowest form of life…scum.”

JZ felt the depth of hatred for Arias that this man had carried all his life; it radiated outwards in palpable waves. “Yes, so we’ve been told. And I know how deadly this game is. You’re in danger too I assume.”

“It’s an unstable playing field to say the least. Changes with the vagaries of Arias’s mood swings. And a warning, Zayas. Cavuto Ruiz is also here in Santiago.”

“Ruiz? Does he know we’re alive and in Santiago?”

“I don’t think so, but he has spies everywhere, and he’s here with Colonel Gutierrez—my soon to be brother-in-law. Should those two jackals learn you’re still breathing…you’ll both be hounded to an early grave.”

“The man’s a poison toad who just
looks
harmless, but it’s Ruiz who’s as deadly as he looks. Still, the real monster here is Arias.”

“Tell me how it all fits together.”

Alejandro began to muse aloud, pacing as he said, “As a boy, standing on that cliff…seeing the flames consume my mother…I couldn’t watch. I turned away and saw lights down at the lake. Like toy soldiers, men marched along the lake, their arms loaded, tossing whatever it was onto a boat. God meant that I see it and remember it. I was being shown the two events were connected, and I’ve never forgotten.”

“Connected how?”

“The village and church killings were not political as claimed at the time. Mass murder was a cover up for a common thief at work.”

“By the way, My Zayas, you were mistaken for Sergio Latoya, who was marked for death. When Arias learned that you and not Latoya were aboard he was quite upset.”

“Upset? Really?”

“Arias didn’t want another American death on his hands. The irony is…at this point, Cavuto is looking at the dungeon and not me—but only so long as you remain alive, and I can prove it.”

“I find myself in a quandary. If I fail to inform Arias of your still being among the living before Cavuto has that opportunity, things could go badly for me, and if I inform him, it could go badly for you.”

JZ put his empty cup down with a loud report. “So, it appears all of us are still in peril, until we get to the bottom of things.”

“I know that Arias often vacations on the lake and curiously only fishes in one spot.” Alejandro shook his head before continuing, “Look, do I have to spell it out for you? Arias keeps a pleasure craft out there. I’ve been on it; it’s outfitted with sonar, nets, cages, diving equipment.”

“He’s interested in more than sightseeing?”

“Flora and fauna have never been high on his list of interests,” replied Valdes. “Most certainly you and Lieutenant Aguilera will find all you need to convict that snake bastard on multiple murders.”

“But how does a fifty-year-old of cache of relics indict him for the murders of my two doctors?”

“Nothing in the lake solves that crime. But you will have the guilty man, I assure you.” He paused to light a cigarillo. “And, at that time, they’ll fall like dominos. Then, the men who should’ve been in power will take their rightful places.”

Just then, Quiana burst into the room, “Enough! I’m done with this pacing. This is my case, and I demand to know what’s going on? What’s to keep me from arresting you right this moment, for…for whatever!”

Alejandro burst into laughter, saying, “The Falcon thinks she can dig her talons into me!”

“Slow down, Qui,” JZ took her arm and headed for the still quivering door she’d charged through. “Mr. Valdes has been quite cooperative. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Alone again in his room, Alejandro flipped on soft music and returned to the balcony windows throwing them open to the ocean breeze. He breathed in its clean scent, a sharp contrast to the murky dealings that entangled him like some trapped fly in a web of deceit that as his brother had pointed out now extended to include Reyna, the last person he wanted to harm. He could not now imagine life without her. He wondered about their future, if it would extend past today’s return to the Forteleza. If so, he tried to envision a normal life with the possibility of children. What sort of yet-to-come cosmic forces would
their
children face? Could they be any more traumatic than those faced by a five-year-old witness to mass murder?

The balcony he stood on briefly became a stone ledge overlooking a burning chapel.

The phone range. Arias’s call. Right on time.

38

After a quick lunch at a sidewalk cafe, Father Pasqual guided JZ and Qui to the Santiago PNR Headquarters, even knowing a police station was a hotbed of rouges and snitches and outlawry—a serious risk at this point in time. But they must move fast before Cavuto learned they were still alive. A real possibility existed that someone might get curious about them and start asking questions. Questions that could reveal them to Arias and Cavuto.

Father Pasqual’s Lada attracted little attention, but once inside the PNR stationhouse Qui insisted on seeing Colonel Emanuel
Cordova. Made to wait in an open area where people were being booked and thrown into holding cells, the party attracted precisely what Qui feared: increased attention. A large, congested city, similar to Havana in both size and chaos, Santiago’s police headquarters reflected this similarity. In fact, the old dust-dropping stone interior with its rusted overhead fans made Qui feel as if she’d stepped back into Alfonso Gutierrez’s purview. She half expected to see the toad step through any given door, and when she heard a commode flush, she jumped.

“You OK?” asked JZ.

“I feel like we’re in a fish bowl here!”

“Agreed, and before it becomes general knowledge that we’re pursuing one of the wealthiest men in all of Cuba on charges of multiple murder—
and are not ourselves among his victims
—I’d really like to check out that lake below the Basilica del Cobre.”

“Absolutely, yes, but I’m afraid by the time we get all the equipment together and get out to El Cobre, it’ll be nightfall.”

On hearing this, Father Pasqual said, “I’m of little use here. Let me arrange for the equipment and a sonar-equipped boat. I have friends, here’s the address.”

“Good idea. We’ll meet you as soon as we can.”

With Pasqual gone, JZ leaned into her and said, “Still a night dive on a strange lake even with the best equipment is both a gamble and dangerous business.” Shaking his head, he added, “I don’t know, Qui. How good a diver are you?”

“A good choice, but he’s not here and I am, which makes me the better choice.” He chuckled softly. “Pasqual’s right about the sonar—without it, we’d be dead in the water.”

“Poor choice of words, JZ,” she smiled grimly at him.

Just then a tall, stern-looking man in a colonel’s uniform stepped up to them, offering his hand and introducing himself. “I had a call from an old friend who said you’d be coming,” said Cordova. “He tells me you’re Havana PNR, detective, and your American associate is with the Interest Section in Miramar?”

“Correct on all counts,” said JZ following Qui and the colonel to his office.

“Thank you for seeing us on short notice,” added Qui.

“Never too busy to help a friend. In fact, I have these for you. He said you’d be round for them.” Cordova handed her a brown clasped envelope stuffed with papers.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“The deal that I’ve put together. You’ll find everything in order.” He stared at the two surprised visitors to his station house.

“I’ve never known paperwork in the PNR to go so…so—”

“Efficiently done,” said JZ.

“That’s the word,” Qui said. She wondered how long the relationship between the Santiago PNR colonel and Alejandro had existed. She guessed his age at about the same as Valdes. Earlier, on their way to PNR headquarters, Pasqual had made a cryptic remark about the colonel. “My brother and I, ironically, share common ground with the colonel. Alejandro is correct. Cordova can be trusted.” She now wondered if Cordova, like Rita, might be among the eight children orphaned at El Cobre that fateful night.