Four Months in Cuba

by Luana Ehrlich

  “Franco just left the house. He’s driving his Mercedes.”

  “Are you able to tell where he’s going?”

  “Yeah. It looks like he’s headed toward Nicholls Town and the Sandy Beach Villas.”

  “How long will it take him to get there?”

  “Not more than ten minutes.”

  “Is his security detail following him?”

  “No, it’s just my guys.”

  “I’m coming your way.”

  “I expected that.”

  “I’ll be driving a van. It’s a dark gray Dodge Grand Caravan.”

  “Copy.”

  Juliana came out of the restaurant as I was ending the conversation with Harvey, but I waited until we were inside the van before telling her about the phone calls.

  “Franco isn’t a man who takes orders from just anyone,” Juliana said. “Subject A is either one of Los Zetas top lieutenants or he’s someone who has some type of leverage with Cabello.”

  Before I could respond, I got the call back from Carlton. His voice sounded a little stilted, and when he said he was calling from RTM Center E, I understood why.

  “We have a positive ID on Subject A,” he said. “He’s Isam Abdel Kamal, one of Hezbollah’s enforcers, and we believe he’s the same individual who contacted Franco earlier and told him to return the stolen canisters to Hezbollah or face the consequences.”

  “Are you aware Franco is on his way to meet with Kamal at this very moment?” I asked.

  “Yes, that’s why I’m down here in the Ops Center,” he said. “Coach has everything set up for us to hear the audio from the listening device Seth left in Kamal’s villa.”

  “Juliana and I are headed over to Nicholls Town right now.”

  He groaned. “Be careful, Titus. If Franco happens to see Austin King in that part of the island, it could set off some alarm bells.”

  “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have eyes on Franco before I hand over the ransom money. Don’t worry, though. I’m not planning on doing anything other than being an observer at this rodeo.”

  “Since we’ve seen no evidence Hezbollah is involved with Ben’s kidnapping, I don’t expect Kamal’s visit to affect the operation. I’m guessing he’s only on the island to negotiate the return of the canisters.”

  “I’d be surprised if Kamal was a good negotiator. From what I’ve heard, he’s a no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners kind of guy.”

  There was a long pause, and I could hear Coach Thompson’s voice in the background. A moment later, when Carlton came back on the line, he said, “I have to go now. Seth just spotted Franco walking up to Kamal’s door.”

  “Franco will probably be gone by the time we get there. Juliana and I are on the other end of the island and traffic’s pretty heavy.”

  “It doesn’t really matter when you get there if you’re just an observer, does it?”

  * * * *

  It took us twenty minutes to drive from Andros Town at the southern end of the island up to Nicholls Town on its northern tip, but it took us another ten minutes to navigate the narrow streets of Nicholls Town over to the Sandy Beach Villas.

  When we drove down the street in front of the resort, I understood why Carlton hadn’t been impressed with Kamal’s accommodations.

  The so-called villas were about fifteen or so stand-alone wooden cabins with a wraparound front porch. I imagined their turquoise exteriors had added some color to the otherwise drab street at one time, but now, the turquoise had faded and the paint was peeling. However, for those who cared about such things, the villas were only a few hundred yards away from the ocean.

  Across the street from the villas was a small grocery store, and when I phoned Harvey to inquire about his location, he said he was in the grocery store’s parking lot. At the next intersection, I made a quick U turn and drove back down the street to the grocery store, where I pulled in the parking spot next to Harvey.

  After scanning the area and seeing a Mercedes parked in front of villa number eight, Juliana and I got out of our van and walked over to Harvey’s late model Chevy Suburban.

  After brushing candy wrappers off the front passenger seat, I said, “Hi, Seth. What’s happening?”

  “Nothing much.”

  “I see Franco’s still inside Kamal’s villa.”

  He turned around and nodded at Juliana. “Hi, I’m Seth Harvey.”

  “Juliana Lamar.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I forgot you two didn’t know each other.”

  Seth, who had always been a man of few words and seldom showed much emotion, smiled at her and said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, Titus tends to forget social niceties when he’s focused on a mission.”

  “Oh, really. I hadn’t noticed.”

  I ignored them both and pointed over to the Mercedes. “What’s going on in number eight?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, removing a set of headphones draped around his neck. As he handed them to me, he said, “As soon as Franco walked in the door, Kamal turned up the volume on his TV. So far, I haven’t been able to hear a thing except reruns from the ‘60s.”

  When I put one of the headphones up to my ear, I could hear Aunt Bee’s voice from “The Andy Griffith Show,” but little else.

  I said, “I’m not surprised he’s using the TV to mask his conversation. Kamal’s a trained Hezbollah operative. He knows there’s always a possibility someone might be listening.”

  When I handed the headphones to Juliana, she added, “I don’t imagine Kamal trusts anyone from the cartel after they stole the canisters.”

  Harvey turned around and smiled at her. “That’s a very astute observation.”

  A few minutes later, a text message popped up on Harvey’s phone. The phone was mounted on top of the Chevy’s dashboard, and the screen indicated the sender was Mobile One.

  Harvey said, “That’s my surveillance crew at the airport.”

  I read the text. “Plane being refueled. No other activity.”

  “I guess this means Kamal plans to leave San Andros as soon as he wraps up his meeting with Franco.”

  “Yeah,” Harvey said. “No sightseeing for this guy.”

  * * * *

  For the next forty minutes, each of us took turns wearing the headphones, but none of us reported hearing anything other than the television set in Kamal’s villa.

  When it began to get dark outside, I asked Harvey if I could borrow his binoculars, and he reached underneath the seat and handed me a pair of high-powered Nikon field glasses.

  As I trained them on the Sandy Beach Villas, I noticed I could see lights on behind the shades in the other cabins, but there were no lights showing in number eight.

  “That’s odd,” I said. “The lights in—”

  I stopped in mid-sentence when Harvey’s phone lit up again. It was another message from Mobile One.

  “Subject A just arrived at the airport in a taxi. He’s boarding the plane right now. He came alone.”

  Juliana, who was leaning over the front seat reading the text, said, “They must be mistaken. Subject A couldn’t be at the airport.” She gestured over at the villas. “He’s over there in villa number eight talking to Franco.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, handing her the binoculars. “I just noticed there aren’t any lights on in Kamal’s villa.”

  Harvey looked surprised. “Maybe he went out the back door.”

  “There’s a back door?”

  He nodded. “Each unit has a rear exit that leads down to the beach.”

  I took the binoculars back from Juliana and scanned the beach.

  “If he walked down to the beach, then it would have been easy for him to hike back up to the restaurant. From there, he could have flagged down a taxi to take him to the airport.”

  Harvey asked, “Do you want me to let Mr. Carlton know what’s going on or do you want to do it?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  As I was making the call, Harvey�
�s phone pinged again, and another text from Mobile One appeared on the screen.

  “The plane is taxiing out to the runway now. It’s about to take off.”

  “What about Franco?” Juliana asked. “What’s happened to him?”

  Seth shook his head. “Nothing good.”

  Chapter 39

  I could hear a lot of background noise in RTM Center E while I was updating Carlton on what was going on in San Andros, but when I finished, he didn’t say a word about the commotion.

  “We need to know what’s happening with Franco,” he said. “Have Seth watch your back while you and Juliana check things out at Kamal’s villa. In the meantime, I’ll have our analysts take a look at the area’s satellite images from the past couple of hours and monitor the plane’s flight path.”

  Once I’d relayed Carlton’s message to Harvey and Juliana, I instructed Harvey to drive us over to the Sandy Beach Villas and park in front of villa number eight.

  “Here’s how we’ll play this,” I told Juliana. “If Franco should answer the door, we’ll say some of our friends mentioned they were staying in villa number eight. After that, we’ll just have to wing it.”

  She patted her black handbag. “I’m prepared to wing it.”

  I looked over at Harvey. “After you drop us off, keep the engine running. No matter what we find inside, I assure you, we won’t be in there longer than ten minutes.”

  “I don’t advise it.”

  * * * *

  When we drove over to the Sandy Beach Villas and viewed them up close, they appeared even more rundown than they did when we were parked across the street from them. However, despite their shabby appearance, the majority of the units looked as if they were occupied.

  Most of the occupants were hanging around their front porches, but I saw a few people down at the beach standing around a bonfire. Boom boxes were blaring out loud music at both locations, and the pungent smell of marijuana was in the air, along with the more appetizing aroma of raw meat being grilled over an open fire.

  When Juliana and I got out of the Suburban and began walking up to the front porch of villa number eight, we gave the tenants over in villa number nine a friendly wave.

  They waved back.

  There was no doorbell to ring, so I rapped on the wooden door a couple of times.

  No one answered.

  I knocked harder the second time.

  Nothing.

  I tried the doorknob.

  It was locked.

  After making sure I couldn’t be seen by the neighbors in number nine, I removed my Glock from my holster and drove the heel of my left foot into the door about two inches to the right of the doorknob. The hollow door splintered, but it refused to give way until I leaned into it and kicked it a second time.

  I stepped inside the door first, and then Juliana, gun in hand, came in behind me. Seconds later, I reached over and flipped the light switch on.

  It was a low wattage bulb, but even so, there was enough light for me to see a man’s body lying on the floor.

  The man had been shot once in the center of his forehead, but his facial features were intact, clearly recognizable.

  It was Franco Cabello.

  He was dead.

  * * * *

  Juliana and I quickly cleared the other three rooms and then returned to the living room. After turning the television set off, I told her to take pictures of everything for the Ops Center, while I went through Cabello’s pockets.

  I didn’t find much; wallet, phone, keys, that was it.

  The gun holster at his waist was empty.

  After slipping Cabello’s watch off his wrist, I positioned everything on the floor next to his body.

  Next, I unbuttoned his shirt.

  He was wearing a medallion around his neck, a golden orb emblazoned with the letter Z, the symbol for Los Zetas, the same signature used on all the emails the Senator had been receiving from the cartel.

  I laid the medallion down beside the rest of the stuff and asked Juliana to take separate pictures of it.

  While she was arranging the shots, she asked, “Aren’t we taking this with us?”

  I shook my head. “I suspect there’s a tracker embedded in at least one of those items. That’s probably why Cabello was willing to meet Kamal without a bodyguard. When his security detail eventually shows up here, I don’t want them following us.”

  After Juliana finished taking pictures of the pile, I had her go through Cabello’s wallet and take pictures of everything in there.

  The last thing I did was take out my Agency phone and lay it down next to Cabello’s phone. Then, I clicked an app on my phone and watched the magic happen.

  A few seconds later, when the “syncing complete” notification appeared, I turned off both phones, pocketed mine, and placed Cabello’s down next to his watch.

  When we exited Kamal’s villa a few seconds later, I figured we’d been inside less than eight minutes.

  Even so, I knew what we’d discovered in those eight minutes would have a devastating effect on the rest of my mission.

  I could only imagine what it might mean for Ben.

  * * * *

  As Harvey drove us back across the street to pick up our van, I gave him a quick summary of what we’d found inside the villa.

  His immediate response was, “Thought so.”

  Seconds later, he added, “I need to ditch the Suburban ASAP.”

  I offered to help him, but he shook his head and said, “I’ve got it covered. I’ll hook up with Mobile One, and we’ll get rid of it.”

  Before he drove off, he leaned out the window and gave Juliana a wave. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You too. Stay safe.”

  Before Juliana got inside the van, I gave her the car keys and asked her to drive so I could update Carlton about Franco.

  When she took the keys, she handed me her phone. “While you’re at it, you might as well send the Ops Center the pictures I took. There should be at least twenty of them.”

  Once we’d cleared the outskirts of Nicholls Town, I quickly scanned through the images on Juliana’s phone. When I came to the picture of the medallion Cabello had been wearing around his neck, I paused and studied the close-up for a few seconds.

  What I hadn’t noticed before was that the letter Z was superimposed over a map of the Caribbean Basin. It was a powerful symbol with a simple message—Los Zetas, the conqueror of the Caribbean.

  The outer rim of the golden medallion was covered with a dozen or so five-pointed stars. Like notches on a gun, I figured the stars symbolized a significant hit—the killing of a rival or maybe even a high government official.

  Hopefully, not a Senator’s son.

  I hurried through the rest of the images and after noting time, place, and personnel, I sent the batch off to the Ops Center, along with the contents of Cabello’s phone.

  Once I got word back they’d been received, I punched in Carlton’s number and put him on speakerphone so Juliana could listen in on our conversation.

  After I told him what we’d found inside Kamal’s villa, he said, “Franco’s death is a game changer. I’m sure you know that. We’re certain he was the person negotiating Ben’s release, and now that he’s dead, I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

  “Us? I’m more worried about how Cabello’s death is going to affect Ben. When Lorenzo hears Cabello’s been murdered, he may decide he’s more trouble than he’s worth and get rid of him.”

  When I saw Juliana glance over at me, I realize I must have sounded a little intense.

  Carlton didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then he cleared his throat and said, “We’ve come across some new information here at Langley that affects Peaceful Retrieval, but we need to set up a video call in order to brief you on it.”

  “We’re headed back to Los Tavios now. We could be online in thirty minutes.”

  “We’ll talk then.”

  As soon as Carlton terminated the
call, Juliana pressed me on what I thought the new information might be. I told her I had no idea. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’m guessing it has something to do with the canisters. Maybe the DDO sent a Special Ops Team to Lorenzo’s compound to retrieve them.”

  “If that’s it, then there’s no doubt Ben’s life is in danger. When the cartel no longer has the leverage to ask the Senator for ten million dollars, he’ll become more of a liability than an asset.”

  I didn’t really believe the DDO would have mounted an operation to go after the canisters before Ben was out of the cartel’s hands, but I’d been wrong about the DDO’s actions before.

  Truth be told, I’d been wrong about Deputy Ira more times than I could count.

  * * * *

  Once we arrived back at the Dorado Villa, I did a walk-through of the rooms to see if Cabello’s men had paid Austin and Elizabeth King a visit while they were out enjoying their dinner.

  Apparently, they hadn’t. All my trip markers were intact.

  While I was checking everything out, Juliana was attaching an encrypted antenna and sound-masking device to her laptop in preparation for the video conference with Carlton. As soon as she announced she had a signal from the Ops Center, I grabbed a bottle of water for each of us, plus a couple of granola bars out of the resort’s welcome basket, and sat down next to her at the dining table.

  “I guess this will have to be tonight’s dinner,” I said, handing her one of the granola bars.

  “What? No brisket? No chocolate pie?”

  “If I had the—”

  I didn’t finish the sentence because the feed from the Ops Center suddenly appeared on the screen, and I got distracted when I saw Frank Benson sitting next to Carlton in the center console in RTM Center E.

  His presence made me wonder if he’d been the source of the disturbance I’d heard when I’d been on the phone with Carlton earlier in the evening. If so, I had a feeling he might also be the source of the new information Carlton said he’d learned about Peaceful Retrieval.