Four Months in Cuba

by Luana Ehrlich

  But, something had changed.

  The red-striped cabanas were gone.

  When I reached the rocky outcropping above the sand dune, I hunkered down in the same spot I’d been in when I’d spied on the Cabana Church earlier. Once I saw the beach was deserted, I made my way down the sloping incline toward the base of the dune.

  After placing the box of Bibles in the sand, I took a look around.

  At first, I thought the storm might have destroyed the tents, but I couldn’t find any evidence of that. In fact, there wasn’t any evidence to indicate two of the Meliã’s cabanas had ever been erected anywhere near the dune.

  Was the Cabana Church just a one-time event? Had the tents been taken down and returned to the hotel?

  When I started thinking about the cabanas on the Meliã’s private beach, I remembered seeing a hotel employee storing a metal frame and a red-striped tent in one of the long white boxes located along the walkway that led down to the beach.

  Is that what the Cabana Church did every week? Did they take the tents down and store them somewhere?

  I glanced down at my watch.

  I had ten minutes left before Juliana sent the Ops Center an emergency alert, so I decided to use five of those minutes to search for the missing cabanas.

  It took me less than two minutes to find them.

  Buried in the white sand, about thirty feet away from the base of the dune, was an aluminum chest. The chest had a simple snap lid.

  I popped it open.

  Inside the aluminum chest were the red-striped tents, plus the disassembled metal frames. There was enough room inside the chest for me to leave the Bibles, as long as I took them out of the box.

  I grabbed the cardboard box and removed the Bibles.

  Once I’d placed them around the sides and on top of the folded tents, I closed the lid and covered the chest with sand once again.

  The moment I started back up the hill toward the highway, I suddenly remembered I’d left the cardboard box behind.

  I hurried back down the hill to retrieve it.

  When I grabbed the box, a man suddenly appeared from behind the dune.

  I recognized him immediately.

  Chapter 18

  The man who walked out from behind the sand dune was one of the leaders from the Cabana Church, the one who’d given out the scripture index cards and delivered the sermon that Sunday morning.

  He looked as startled to see me as I was to see him.

  “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t know anyone was here. I mean . . . the beach is usually deserted at this time of day.”

  “That’s why I’m out here,” I said, pointing at the cardboard box in my hand.” I wanted to see what the tide had brought in. If I come out early enough, I can usually pick up a few treasures.”

  The man walked over to me.

  “What have you found so far?”

  I turned the box upside down. “Not a thing.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll find anything behind this dune.”

  “It was a long shot, but I thought maybe the storm had carried something up from the shoreline. Are you a treasure hunter?”

  “I’m always looking for treasure, but it may not be the kind you’re seeking.”

  “What kind would that be?”

  He pointed towards his heart. “The kind you put in here. The kind no one can take away from you. The kind you depend on when things get tough. The kind you trust for answers when you don’t have any answers.”

  I nodded. “That’s the best kind all right.”

  I thought about the sermon I’d heard him preach on this very spot and the questions I’d wanted to ask him about his text. When I saw the way he was staring at me, I suddenly wondered if he’d seen me up at my observation post.

  “Haven’t I seen you up at the Meliã?” he asked.

  “Probably. I’ve been staying at the hotel for a few weeks now.” I offered him my hand. “I’m Nacio Bandera. I’m an archivist at the Haitian National Museum.”

  When he shook my hand, he said, “I can see why you might be interested in treasures. I’m Raul Valentino. I work up at the hotel in Guest Services. Right now, I’m assigned to the pool area. If you ever need anything, just ask for me.”

  “Did you say your name was Valentino?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll remember to ask for you if I need something.”

  Say, for instance, a drone.

  * * * *

  I had no way of knowing if Raul Valentino was the dissident Mateo Aguilar had mentioned in his drug-induced interrogation, but my gut said he was. Anyone with enough courage to be a dissident in Cuba wouldn’t think twice about having a secret church on the beach.

  While I was tempted to stick around and ask Valentino some questions, I was already a few minutes late for my check in with Juliana. To make matters worse, since I’d told him I was searching for treasures on the beach, I couldn’t very well head back up the hill towards the highway.

  Now, I had to pretend to stroll along the shoreline and hunt for treasures—at least until I was out of his sight.

  After telling Valentino I’d see him up at the hotel, I headed out towards the beach. A few minutes later, when I looked back over my shoulder, I saw no sign of him.

  As I made my way up the incline toward the highway, I wondered if Valentino had come out to the dune to set up the cabanas. If so, any minute now, he would open up the aluminum chest and find the Bibles.

  It probably wouldn’t take him long to connect the dots—from the empty cardboard box to the Bibles. When that happened he’d realize Nacio Bandera might not be the person he said he was.

  Since I would be on a charter flight out of Santiago by midnight, I wasn’t too concerned about Valentino’s dot-connecting ability. Right now, I was more concerned about what Juliana had done when I’d missed my twenty-minute deadline.

  Had she sent the Ops Center the emergency alert or had she decided to come looking for me instead?

  I pulled out my sat phone and sent her a text. “On my way back.”

  She didn’t reply.

  A few minutes later, when I topped the hill and spotted the Hyundai, I understood why I hadn’t heard back from her.

  Parked behind her rental car was a ‘56 Chevrolet Bel Air.

  * * * *

  Mateo Aguilar wasn’t inside his car. He was standing outside the Hyundai talking to Juliana. I figured Juliana had given him the same story we’d agreed to give la policía—that she’d pulled off the road to take some pictures of the ocean.

  I decided to stay put.

  Mateo stood there talking to Juliana for a few more minutes before finally putting on his sunglasses and walking back over to his vehicle.

  Once he’d driven off, I abandoned my hiding place and jogged up to the Hyundai.

  When I got inside, I asked, “Did you get my message?”

  Juliana held up her phone. “I just saw it. What happened? What took you so long?”

  “You didn’t alert the Ops Center, did you?”

  She shook her head. “There was no way I could do that. Mateo recognized my car and stopped to see if I needed any help. I couldn’t get rid of him.”

  “What was he saying? He didn’t remember anything about being at the safe house, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t mention that night.” She smiled. “Mainly, he wanted to talk about me. He asked me why I was so dressed up.”

  Juliana was wearing the red dress I’d seen in her closet the first day I’d arrived in Santiago. Mateo probably thought she looked good in it.

  She did.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him the truth. I said we’d been invited to a party at Lorenzo’s house tonight.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  “He seemed surprised, but then he told me some members of the tourism council had hired him to drive them up to Lorenzo’s house for the celebration. He was pretty excited about it.”
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  “He probably thinks the party is an opportunity for him to gather information and sell it to the DSE.”

  She pointed down the road in the direction of the Meliã. “He was headed to the hotel to pick up a client. Do you still think it’s safe for us to meet Stevens there?”

  “Mateo usually parks his car in the circle drive at the front entrance. If you take the service road around to the parking lot in the back, we’ll be fine.”

  As Juliana pulled onto the road, she gestured toward the beach. “You must have run into some trouble delivering the Bibles.”

  “No, I didn’t run into any trouble; I ran into Valentino.”

  * * * *

  While Juliana was driving us up to the Meliã, I told her about finding the cabanas buried in the sand and about meeting Raul Valentino.

  She asked, “Do you think he’s the dissident Mateo told you about? The one who owns the drone?”

  I nodded. “That’s my theory.”

  “If this is the Valentino who owns the drone, then he may have buried it somewhere on the beach, just like he did the cabanas. Maybe that’s why the DSE agents weren’t able to find it when they searched his house.”

  “There’s a good possibility of that.”

  “So why do you think the Ops Center didn’t have anything in their database on a dissident named Valentino?”

  “Maybe Raul Valentino really isn’t a dissident. Maybe that was just the story he gave Mateo.”

  “So you think Valentino knows Mateo’s a snitch for the DSE?”

  “I think he might, and I believe Valentino wants Mateo to see him as a dissident rather than the leader of an underground church. That way, he’s able to protect his little group of believers.”

  Juliana took her eyes off the road a moment and glanced over at me. “I guess you realize once Valentino opens up that chest he may suspect you were the one who dropped off those Bibles.”

  I nodded. “That thought has occurred to me.”

  “And?”

  “My secret’s safe with Valentino. I’m sure of that.”

  * * * *

  Juliana drove around to the parking lot at the back of the hotel, where there were several empty parking spaces.

  Five minutes later, Mark Stevens showed up in his Dodge van and pulled into the space next to the Hyundai. When he got out of the van and opened up the cargo door, I handed him a couple of duffel bags.

  Inside one of the duffel bags was a change of clothes for Mitchell, plus a toiletry kit; items he might need to feel human again.

  The other duffel bag contained the weapons package for Stevens and Barnes, along with an electronics device the Ops Center had programmed to piggyback onto Lorenzo’s security cameras. Technically, the gadget was known as a Camera Capture Transmitter (CCT).

  Once the CCT device was attached to any of the cameras monitoring Lorenzo’s house and grounds, then RTM Center E could begin receiving real-time images from inside the compound.

  These images, along with the video from an Agency drone flying overhead, would enable Carlton and the entire operations team to watch what was happening on the ground from the very moment we arrived at the compound to the moment we rescued Mitchell.

  Although I usually welcomed such operational surveillance, earlier in the week, Carlton had mentioned there would be two other people inside RTM Center E with front row seats to the action.

  The DDO, along with Senator Mitchell, would also be watching our every move.

  I knew it would have been useless to protest the DDO’s presence in the Ops Center, but I’d immediately voiced my objection to Senator Mitchell being present. However, Carlton had quickly reminded me one of the privileges afforded the members of the Senate Intelligence Committee was the right to be present during a real-time ops engagement.

  I felt sure Carlton was as unhappy about that arrangement as I was.

  Once the duffel bags were safely inside the van, Stevens and I exchanged a few words about the mission, and then he got back inside the van and drove off.

  Juliana and I wouldn’t see him again until we were headed out of Lorenzo’s compound with Mitchell.

  * * * *

  The POA called for Juliana and me to meet Gabriel in his hotel room at the Meliã before all three of us drove up to El Bonete together.

  But, as Juliana and I got in the hotel elevator together, I noticed my slacks were covered in sand after my hike on the beach, and I decided I needed to make a quick trip up to my room to change.

  When I mentioned this to Juliana, she reached over and brushed something out of my hair. “Maybe you should take a quick shower. You’ve also managed to get sand in your hair.”

  Something about the intimacy of her gesture made me feel a little strange, and I immediately pressed the button on the elevator console for the fifth floor.

  “Keith is in Room 529,” I said. “I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

  “Could you make it twenty? I’m not sure I can carry on a conversation with Keith by myself for thirty minutes without going crazy.”

  “I promise I’ll hurry. Ask him about the benefits of eating mangoes. That should keep the conversation going.”

  Once Juliana had gotten off the elevator on the fifth floor, I went up to my room on the tenth floor and took a quick shower. After changing into a clean pair of pants and a white linen Guayabera, I gave my shoes a quick swipe with a polish cloth and grabbed my phone.

  Just as I was slipping it in my pocket, it began vibrating.

  “Are you clear?” Carlton asked.

  “No. Can you give me five minutes?”

  “Five minutes.”

  I went across the hall to the stairwell and made it down to the fifth floor in three minutes. When I knocked on the door to Room 529, Juliana answered it.

  “That was quick,” she said.

  I held up my phone and pointed to the alarm clock on Gabriel’s nightstand.

  “Is that on?” I asked.

  Gabriel, who was standing in front of a mirror holding a blow dryer, said, “Of course. The black box is always on. What’s up?”

  “Douglas just called.”

  Juliana looked surprised. “He said he wouldn’t call us today unless there were some new developments.”

  Gabriel said, “Life is always full of new developments.”

  * * * *

  When Carlton’s call came in, I immediately told him I was in Gabriel’s hotel room with a black box running, and I had him on speakerphone.

  “I wanted to let you know about some new developments before you leave for El Bonete,” he said.

  “Nothing’s changed with Ben, has it? They haven’t moved him out of the guesthouse?”

  “No, nothing’s changed down at the guesthouse, but I guess you could say something’s changed with Ben. Los Zetas emailed the Senator the final instructions on delivering the ransom money and how Ben will be handed over.”

  “That won’t matter after tonight,” I said.

  Juliana asked, “Where do they want the transfer to take place?”

  “San Andros Island in the Bahamas,” Carlton said. “There’s a resort there called Los Tavios and the Senator was told to book a villa at the resort. They told him to book it for a full month and await further instructions.”

  “I guess the location doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “Mateo told us Lorenzo sometimes flies his plane over to the Bahamas.”

  Carlton said, “It’s a forty-five-minute plane ride to the island from Santiago, and Franco Cabello owns a villa not far from the resort. From the cartel’s point of view, it’s an ideal location for making the transfer.”

  “Did they include a proof of life photograph in the email this time?” Juliana asked.

  “Yes, it was attached to the email. I haven’t seen the photograph yet, but the DDO said Ben looked a little thinner, but otherwise appeared healthy.”

  “Was the Senator asked to respond to the email?”

  “Not to the email itself. H
e was told if he didn’t book his reservation at Los Tavios within eight hours of receiving the email, he would never see his son again. Evidently, the cartel is able to monitor the resort’s guest list. Needless to say, the Senator made the reservation.”

  “Since the Senator knows Ben’s in good shape, does he still plan to be present in the Ops Center this evening?” I asked.

  “His plans haven’t changed.”

  When I didn’t respond, Carlton cleared his throat and said, “That brings me to the second reason I was calling you. I wanted to let you know Alex Nelson will be representing the American Embassy tonight at the tourism celebration. The State Department received an invitation from the governor’s office in Santiago to send someone, and since Alex is officially listed as the embassy’s trade liaison, he’ll be making the trip from Havana. He’s due to arrive in Santiago about an hour from now.”

  I asked, “Why are we just hearing about this now?”

  “Alex was only told about it this morning. The State Department had initially declined to send a representative because of Rafael Lorenzo’s involvement, but when the President heard about that decision, he instructed them to send a low-level official. He’s not as concerned about embassy personnel associating with a member of the drug cartel as he is about not offending the Cubans.”

  “Has Alex been briefed on our operation at Lorenzo’s compound?”

  “Yes, I did it myself, and Alex has been instructed to avoid any contact with the three of you. However, if it becomes necessary, he’s prepared to create a diversion while you and Juliana are down at the guesthouse.”

  “I thought I was going to be the one creating a diversion,” Gabriel said.

  Carlton said, “Alex will serve as your backup.”

  Six years ago, when Gabriel was supposed to create a diversion during an operation in Libya, he’d failed to implement the POA as planned. Later, Gabriel had insisted he’d never received the signal to proceed, but to this day, Carlton was convinced Gabriel had been so intent on delivering a stellar musical performance he’d ignored his orders.

  Now, before we executed Operation Peaceful Retrieval, it appeared Carlton was making sure Gabriel had backup.