Four Months in Cuba

by Luana Ehrlich

  The EAI workers on the ground in Santiago had been distributing relief supplies at a makeshift shelter set up at a high school near the airport, and Coach Thompson had made sure three of the EAI employees shared similar physical characteristics to Juliana, Mitchell, and me.

  When we took their place on the EAI plane in a few minutes, they would remain in Santiago in the care of Alex Nelson and rejoin the other relief workers once the EAI plane returned to Cuba in a few days.

  On Monday, though, I had my doubts all three of us would be aboard the EAI plane when it took off from Santiago.

  That was the day Mitchell was almost killed at the safe house.

  * * * *

  To no one’s surprise, the safe house lost electricity in the middle of the hurricane. However, we were still able to cook meals, power up our electronic devices, and maintain regular contact with the Ops Center by means of our portable generator.

  Despite these conveniences, a section of the roof had been torn off during the hurricane, and once it became apparent we wouldn’t be able to leave the island for several days, we decided we had to put a tarp over the open area or risk being eaten alive by the mosquitoes.

  Of the four of us, only Nelson claimed to have any handyman experience, but since he was afraid the flimsy ladder we’d found in the garage wouldn’t support his weight, Mitchell and I were elected to climb up on the roof and secure the tarp to the overhang.

  Once the job was done, and I was back on the ground, Mitchell began descending the ladder. Seconds after he put his foot on the third rung, the ladder gave way, and before we knew what was happening, Mitchell was on the ground.

  Juliana was the first to reach him, and when she found him unresponsive, she knelt down beside him and immediately began sobbing.

  As she cradled his head in her lap, she kept saying, “Ben. Ben. Ben,” over and over again.

  Less than five minutes later, he regained consciousness and assured everyone he was fine.

  It turned out he was right.

  Although he had a nasty gash over his right eye, which bled profusely and could have used a few stitches, he hadn’t broken anything, and he didn’t show any signs of internal injuries.

  Juliana offered to take care of his head wound, and after they’d spent time together getting him patched up, I noticed a change in their relationship.

  In the days that followed, they spent most of their time talking to each other, excluding Nelson and me from their conversations. One day when I walked in the living room, I heard Juliana telling Mitchell about her late husband Ben. As soon as I realized what was going on, I made a quick exit out of the room.

  Nelson also took note of their growing relationship, and yesterday, when the two of them were out on the patio, he mentioned it to me. “When I saw you and Juliana at Lorenzo’s party,” he said, “I thought the two of you might be a couple, but now it appears young Ben has drawn her attention.”

  “She’s been a star on his horizon for a long time, but now they seem to be operating on the same wavelength.”

  “Yeah, but who knows if that will last. They may never work together again, and their time here will only be a distant memory.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been there.”

  “You’re right.”

  He didn’t elaborate.

  * * * *

  Now, as Nelson drove past the airport terminal and headed to the hangars, Juliana looked over at Mitchell, who was sitting in the back seat with me.

  “The last time Titus and I were here at the airport together, we’d just discovered you weren’t being held in Lorenzo’s guesthouse. Both of us were pretty bummed about that, but Titus was so angry I thought he might refuse the DDO’s order to leave Cuba without you.”

  Mitchell glanced over at me. “Is that right?”

  I started to downplay my reaction, but then I thought better of it.

  “Yeah, she’s right. I figured all the prayers I’d said for you merited a big splashy success story. When it didn’t turn out that way, I admit it ticked me off, but now I realize that’s not how prayer is supposed to work. In the end, it was probably a good thing.”

  Mitchell shook his head. “How could it be a good thing when I was in the cartel’s hands for another two months?”

  “I can see why you might think that, but if we hadn’t broken into Lorenzo’s guesthouse, we might not have found the missing canisters, and I’d hate to think of the resources our government would have expended looking for them if that hadn’t happened.”

  Nelson added, “Not to mention we might never have found them in the first place.”

  Mitchell said, “Okay, I can’t deny that was a good thing, but I won’t feel comfortable until I hear those weapons are in the hands of the Coast Guard.”

  On the night Mitchell and I arrived at the safe house, I’d given Coach Thompson the license number of the delivery truck Hezbollah had used to transport the canisters from Número Diez, and once Hurricane Ericka had moved north and we were able to get back in touch with the Ops Center, we’d learned a reconnaissance drone had located the delivery truck near the docks in Santiago Bay.

  Yesterday, Carlton told us when the port reopened for business, the crate containing the gas canisters had been loaded on a Venezuelan cargo vessel bound for Caracas, and now the U.S. Coast Guard was tracking them.

  Before we left the safe house this morning, Carlton let us know the Coast Guard planned to board the Venezuelan ship when the vessel entered the waters off the Dominican Republic later today. By invoking the maritime treaty the U.S. maintained with the DR, the Coast Guard could legally seize any suspicious cargo it found on the vessel.

  I had no doubt the Coast Guard would consider a crate full of sarin gas a suspicious cargo.

  Juliana said, “Although I agree with you about finding the canisters, I can’t believe you actually think everything worked out for the best when you almost died of dengue fever.”

  I thought about her statement for a minute, and then I said, “You might not agree with what I’m about to say, Juliana, but I believe if Ben and I had tried to escape when I first arrived at the farm, we might not have made it out alive. My illness delayed our escape, and by the time I’d recovered, the Ops Center had received intel about Hezbollah’s intentions to retrieve the canisters. In the end, I’m convinced it all worked out for the best.”

  Nelson stopped the van outside Hangar B and pointed over to the EAI plane parked on the tarmac. “You might have spoken too soon. What’s going on there?”

  “Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good,” I said.

  * * * *

  Standing at the bottom of the aircraft’s stairway were two men. One of them had a clipboard in his hand, while the other one was holding a briefcase. In front of them were two women, each wearing an orange vest with the EAI logo emblazoned across the back.

  I said, “It looks like la policía are being vigilant about the passengers they’re allowing to board the EAI plane.”

  As we watched one of the EAI workers hand over his passport, Nelson said, “That’s unexpected, but it shouldn’t be a problem for you. Your documents are in order, and you’re wearing your EAI vests.”

  No one disagreed with him, and after we voiced our thanks for his help, each of us grabbed a rolling duffel bag out of the van’s rear cargo compartment and started walking toward the plane.

  Juliana was in the lead, but at the last minute, I suggested Mitchell change places with her.

  “Use your injury,” I whispered to him. “Milk it for all its worth.”

  He nodded and slipped in front of Juliana.

  Mitchell’s face was still showing the aftereffects of his fall; both of his eyes had turned black, and the cut on his forehead had crusted over with an ugly pus-filled scab. He looked like he could have been the recipient of a beating or the participant in a bloody brawl.

  When Clipboard Guy glanced up and saw us walking toward him, he nudged his partner and gestured at Mitchell.
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br />   Once we reached the stairs leading up to the aircraft, I noticed Briefcase Guy continued to stare at Mitchell, when Clipboard Guy put out his hand and demanded to see his passport.

  “Pasaporte,” he said.

  Mitchell handed over his fake passport.

  As the guy checked it against a list on his clipboard, he peppered Mitchell with questions about what had happened to his face.

  The tale Mitchell spun about being attacked by a mob of hungry people while delivering food supplies to the high school was a masterpiece of fabrication and held both officers’ attention while Clipboard Guy flipped through the other passports.

  After he handed me back my passport, he turned to all three of us and said, “Thank you. Our country appreciates your help. Please return to Cuba soon.”

  I didn’t make him any promises.

  * * * *

  Once we were allowed to board the plane, we were met by Tino Soltero, the EAI director in charge of the relief efforts in Santiago.

  Soltero, an Agency employee, was aware he was flying back to the States with three members of the Agency’s covert ops division, but that was all the information he’d been given. He didn’t have a clue as to what the three of us had been up to in Santiago, and even though I could tell he was curious about Mitchell’s appearance, he didn’t ask him a single question.

  There were less than a dozen EAI workers on the plane—although the cabin could seat twice that number—and when Soltero showed us to our seats near the front of the plane, he pointed out he’d deliberately directed the other passengers toward the rear of the plane in order to give us some privacy.

  Although I was sure Mitchell would have preferred to sit with Juliana, Soltero didn’t know that, and he seated Mitchell and me next to each other in one row, while he and Juliana sat in the row across the aisle from us.

  As the plane taxied out to the runway and prepared for takeoff, Mitchell stared out the window and said, “I had no idea when I left Langley in June I’d be spending the next four months in Cuba. I figured I’d be here a couple of weeks at the most.”

  “On your next assignment, don’t be surprised if it’s supposed to last four months, and you end up staying forty-eight hours.”

  He turned away from the window and looked at me. “My next assignment may not be with Salazar at the Latin American desk. When we get back, I plan to ask for a transfer to the Middle East.”

  “You won’t regret it. I know I certainly didn’t.”

  “What about the language requirement? Is my Arabic good enough to qualify?”

  “You certainly have the basics down, but Douglas may insist you spend some time in language school anyway. If you want to impress him, ask him about attending Arabic classes or getting a tutor when the DDO puts you on leave.”

  “I’ve been sitting around for months, I don’t need any time off.”

  “After what you’ve been through, you’ll have to take several months off, and you’ll be required to see a parade of doctors who’ll examine you from head to toe. I should probably emphasize the head part, and I’m not just talking about the gash on your forehead.”

  He nodded. “I figured I’d have to see a shrink at some point. What about you?”

  “Yeah, I’ll have to see the docs too, but no matter what, I’m not sticking around Langley past Monday.”

  “What happens after Monday?”

  “Nikki will be finished with her training at Quantico next week, and I plan to be there when she graduates.”

  “What happens after that?”

  “That all depends on Nikki.”

  * * * *

  When our plane landed at Dulles International Airport, we were met by an Agency official who whisked the three of us off to a private VIP lounge where Carlton, the DDO, and the Senator were waiting for us.

  The Senator took one look at Ben and vowed revenge against the Los Zetas drug cartel for beating him, slashing his forehead, and nearly starving him to death.

  Although Ben repeatedly tried to interrupt him long enough to correct his erroneous conclusion, the Senator pontificated for several minutes before he stopped talking long enough to hear the truth. Even then, I wasn’t sure the Senator believed his son.

  A few minutes later, Senator Mitchell walked across the room to speak with me. “You did it, Titus,” he said, offering me his hand. “You brought my son home.”

  I shook his hand and said, “I’m sorry it took me so long, Senator.”

  He glanced over at Ben. “How do you think he’s doing?”

  “From what I can tell, he’s in excellent shape both physically and mentally. During his captivity, he figured out a way to keep himself occupied, and he never lost hope. He’s a survivor, Senator. Make no mistake about that.”

  “Do you think he’s ready to give up his clandestine life now? Has this ordeal shaken some sense into him?”

  “That’s a question you’ll have to ask him, but as far as I know, he has no intention of quitting.”

  The Senator didn’t seem too pleased with my answer, and, as he walked away, I decided I wouldn’t want to be in the same room with him when he asked Ben that question.

  * * * *

  From the airport, Juliana, Mitchell, and I were taken over to The Gray, where we spent the next two days undergoing physicals and getting debriefed.

  During our debrief, we learned the Coast Guard had been able to confiscate the sarin gas canisters from the Venezuelan ship when it entered the waters off the Dominican Republic, and the ten missing chemical weapons were now on their way to the Army’s Chemical Materials Agency in Aberdeen.

  When I asked Carlton if the Agency had received any new intel about Felix Alvarez or Rafael Lorenzo, he said they didn’t know anything about Alvarez, but the chatter the NSA had picked up seemed to indicate Lorenzo was still pursuing his goal of taking Franco Cabello’s place in the Los Zetas organization.

  “Right now, we believe Lorenzo is living on a yacht off the coast of Cozumel,” he said.

  “That’s probably where he was when I talked to him on the video linkup.”

  “Evidently, he’s still looking for more sources of revenue, because an American businessman was kidnapped yesterday in Cozumel, and C. J. claims it was Lorenzo’s men who took him.”

  Juliana said, “What about Reina Lorenzo? Is she still with her husband?”

  “As far as we know, but Alex said she seemed determined to get to the U.S., so I have a feeling she’ll make it here eventually.”

  After our debrief ended on Sunday afternoon, Mitchell and Juliana were told they should report to Salazar the following day, and Carlton said he would see me in his office on Monday morning.

  Once we were released from quarantine, Greg returned the keys to my Range Rover, along with my cell phone, and I went in search of Mitchell and Juliana before heading out to The Meadows.

  I found Mitchell in his bedroom getting ready to go out and celebrate with Juliana.

  “You want to join us?” he asked.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Of course I’m kidding. Even though Juliana said she didn’t really mean what she said about you, I’m not taking any chances.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Did you know her late husband was also named Ben? Personally, I believe she’s had a hang-up about that ever since she met me.”

  “I’m glad the two of you have patched things up.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see what happens.” He looked down at the keys in my hand. “Are you leaving now?”

  I nodded. “I may not see you for a couple of months, so I just wanted to stop by and say goodbye.”

  I hesitated for a second, and then I added, “I also wanted to let you know how proud I am of you, Ben. I know you weren’t tortured or anything like that, but you survived a very difficult ordeal, and as far as I’m concerned, you came through it with flying colors.”

  He looked at me without saying a word for a couple of seconds. Then he grin
ned and said, “I appreciate that, Titus. It means a lot coming from you.”

  When I turned to leave, I thought he was about to hug me, but he ended up shaking my hand instead.

  As soon as I left Mitchell’s room, I ran into Juliana.

  “I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

  “You’re leaving? We’re scheduled to stay here another night.”

  “I decided I’d go out to The Meadows tonight. I want to get reacquainted with Stormy before Arkady ruins him for life.”

  She laughed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “It might be awhile before I see you again, but I wanted to let you know I’ve enjoyed working with you.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

  She looked down at her feet for a second. “I wasn’t sure after . . . after our time on San Andros. I mean . . . it’s been kind of awkward between us since then.”

  “Ah . . . I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize that. No, don’t give it another thought. I’m happy you and Ben have reconnected now.”

  “I still think I’m too old for him, but you’ve got to admit he’s matured a lot in the last four months.”

  I agreed with her, and after we talked about Ben for a few minutes, I told her goodbye and left.

  As I drove away from The Gray, I couldn’t help but ask myself how I’d failed to notice Juliana had been uncomfortable around me the whole time we’d been together at the safe house.

  Why hadn’t I picked up on that? Why hadn’t I been able to read her cues?”

  The whole episode gave me pause, especially when I picked up my phone and called Nikki.

  * * * *

  Her phone rang four times before she picked up. I counted every ring. But, when I heard her say hello, I couldn’t think of what to say.