Four Months in Cuba

by Luana Ehrlich

  “Titus?” she finally said.

  “Hi, Nikki. Yeah, it’s me.”

  “Are you okay? You sound funny.”

  “I’m in my car on my way out to The Meadows. We must have a bad connection.”

  “So you’re finally back from your short trip down to The Bahamas? The one that lasted two months?”

  “You’re right. It was a little longer than I expected, but you know how that goes.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ve lost a little weight, but otherwise I’m fine.”

  “Did you—”

  “I can’t wait to see you,” I blurted out.

  “I’ll be finished at Quantico on Wednesday. Did you remember that?”

  “Yes, I knew it was sometime this week.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if I passed the course?”

  “Why would I do that? I already know you passed. You were the star pupil, the best student they ever had.”

  When I heard her laugh, I almost turned the Range Rover around and headed out to Quantico right then.

  “You’re right about one thing. I passed. Now that I’m part of Homeland Security’s national defense team, I guess this lets you off the hook with your boss at the Agency. Of course, it’s not official until I graduate on Wednesday.”

  “Speaking of my boss, I have an appointment with him tomorrow at ten, but after that, I’m free. Could I see you tomorrow afternoon?”

  “My last class is over at four. Could you make it around five?”

  “I’ll be there by five.”

  “I have something important to tell you. Let’s go someplace quiet where we’ll have some privacy.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. See you then.”

  Chapter 53

  Monday, October 12

  The next day, as I drove into the west parking lot at CIA headquarters, I couldn’t get the conversation I’d had with Nikki out of my mind.

  I was trying not to read too much into it, but at the same time, I didn’t want to miss something she was trying to tell me.

  Last night, after Arkady and Millie had gone to bed, I’d sat out by the pool with Stormy and analyzed her statement until I couldn’t think anymore.

  Stormy hadn’t been any help at all.

  Whenever I’d mentioned Nikki’s name, he’d just wagged his tail and grinned at me.

  * * * *

  Sally Jo gave me a big smile when I entered Carlton’s outer office. She even got up from her chair and came around the desk so she could give me a hug.

  “My word, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, “but I think you could use some of my chicken and dumplings to fatten you up.”

  “That sounds delicious, Sally Jo. I’d eat your chicken and dumplings any day.”

  She pointed toward Carlton’s door and whispered, “He’s not in a good mood today, so I’d be careful about pushing his buttons.”

  “What buttons would those be?”

  She smiled and zipped her lips with an imaginary zipper.

  “What’s got him riled up?” I asked.

  “He’ll have to be the one to tell you that,” she said, escorting me over to his door, “but rest assured, it has nothing to do with you.”

  Carlton didn’t appear to be in a bad mood when I stepped into his office. He was sitting in his usual spot behind his massive desk with a yellow legal pad in front of him, a neat stack of files to his right, and a laptop computer off to his left.

  When he looked up and saw me, he laid aside the Top Secret file he’d been reading and motioned for me to have a seat in one of the guest chairs in front of his desk.

  When I sat down, I gestured toward the file. “Is that Peaceful Retrieval? Are you about to sign off on it and send it to the archives?”

  He looked over at the file and frowned. “No, it’s not Peaceful Retrieval, and if Deputy Ira hadn’t just given you some time off, it might have been your next assignment.”

  I knew how to push Carlton’s buttons, but he also knew how to push mine, and I said, “You can’t leave me hanging, Douglas. Tell me about the assignment.”

  “It’s not ready yet. The President has to sign off on it, and Deputy Ira told me this morning, he doesn’t believe he’ll do it. He thinks it’s too political. I don’t mind telling you, Titus, this whole thing has really upset me.”

  “Could you at least give me a hint what it’s about?”

  He picked up his Cross pen and used it to tap on his legal pad several times. “You remember a CIA contractor who went missing in Iraq several years ago?”

  I nodded. “Lavon, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s close. It’s Jacob Levin.”

  “What about him?”

  “Last week, one of our allies passed on some intel that proves he’s still alive. Evidently, he’s been living in Yemen for the past five years.”

  “What’s he been doing in Yemen?”

  “We’re not exactly sure, but since he has a head full of military secrets, it’s possible he’s there trying to make himself a buck. At any rate, the DDO wants him back on American soil.”

  “Why would the President need to sign off on a missing person assignment? It doesn’t sound that dangerous, and it certainly doesn’t sound political.”

  Carlton shook his head. “It’s not your assignment, so I can’t answer that question.”

  He picked up a sheet of paper with the Agency’s human resources logo on it and slid it toward me. “Starting today, you’re on vacation for three months. Use it wisely. Get some rest. Spend some time with your detective.”

  “I’ll take that assignment, and, by the way, did you hear she aced the FBI course? She’s cleared for classified material now.”

  “Yes, Frank Benson told me. Congratulations. That means you’re out of the legal doghouse.”

  “Why was Frank discussing Nikki with you?”

  “We weren’t discussing her,” he said sharply. “I called to talk to him about a different matter, and while I had him on the phone, I asked him about her status.”

  I decided Sally Jo was right; Carlton was in a bad mood.

  It was time for me to leave.

  When I stood up, Carlton came out from behind his desk and walked me over to the door.

  “After Nikki graduates on Wednesday,” I said, “I’ll be headed back to Oklahoma. Thanks for letting me stay out at The Meadows. It was a nice break from hotel living.”

  When Carlton opened the door, he said, “Millie said you cleaned up after yourself, so feel free to stay out there anytime.”

  “Does that invitation include my dog?”

  He shut the door.

  * * * *

  Before I left Sally Jo’s office, I persuaded her to give me Andrew Edwards’ private phone number in Financial Services.

  On my way out to Quantico, after stopping off at a shopping mall to make a couple of purchases, I gave him a call.

  “Andrew,” I said, “it’s Titus Ray. I’m not sure you remember me. I came by to see you a few months ago about the invoice for the Spanish Bibles, and you—”

  “Of course, I remember you, Titus. I’ve prayed for you several times since then.”

  “I was recently in a bad situation, so I appreciate all your prayers. I was wondering if you also remember what you told me about my faith being tested?”

  “I think I said your faith hadn’t been tested yet.”

  “That’s right. I can’t go into the details with you. In fact, the details are still pretty hazy in my own mind, but I believe I understand more about what you were trying to tell me then.”

  “I wanted you to know all believers go through difficult circumstances, and that’s usually when we doubt God the most.”

  “I hear you. It’s easy to feel abandoned when you find yourself in a bad place.”

  “Is that why you called me?”

  “No, I called you because I wanted you to pray with me about a big decision I have to make. It’s one of
those life-changing choices, and I don’t want to make a mistake.”

  “Sure. Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll pray for you.”

  When Edwards said he’d prayed for me, I didn’t realize he meant he’d do it right then, but the moment I finished telling him about my concerns, he voiced a prayer for me as I was driving seventy-five miles an hour down the I-95 expressway.

  I didn’t close my eyes.

  * * * *

  When I arrived at the guardhouse at the FBI Academy, I went through the same routine as I had the last time I’d been there. The only difference was, when the guard drew his red circle in the center of the map, I asked him a question about one particular building.

  “Is the Marine Corps Chapel open all the time or just during service times?”

  “It’s open from six o’clock in the morning until nine o’clock at night. Anyone can go in whenever they want, but there’s not always a chaplain there.”

  After I thanked the guard, I took the perimeter parkway around to the main entrance of the Academy’s training facility. Instead of turning right on Russell Road—where The Jefferson dormitory was located—I continued north until I arrived at the parking lot in front of the Marine Corps Chapel.

  As soon as I saw the parking lot was empty, I called Nikki and told her where I was, and, although she sounded surprised, she said she’d meet me at the chapel in five minutes.

  She waved at me when she pulled in the parking space next to my Range Rover, and, at that moment, all my doubts disappeared, and an incredible sense of calm came over me.

  I knew what I had to do.

  When she got out of her SUV, she said, “Hey there, stranger,” and I immediately took her in my arms and locked her in a tight embrace.

  After I bent down and kissed her, we continued holding onto each other for several minutes.

  Finally, I let go of her and said, “I’ve missed you.”

  She reached up and gently stroked my cheek. “I’ve missed you too.”

  After we exchanged another kiss, she stepped away from me and said, “You look like you’ve lost weight, and if I had to guess, I’d say you haven’t been in the sun in a while.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a good detective, Detective?”

  She laughed and gestured over at the chapel. “I may be a good detective, but you’ll have to give me a few clues if you want me to figure out why you asked me to meet you here.”

  I took hold of her hand as we walked toward the entrance. “You said you wanted a quiet place where we could talk.”

  Once I opened the door and we walked in, she said, “You can’t get much quieter than this.”

  She was right.

  There was no one else inside the sanctuary, and after we walked over and sat down in an empty pew, I suddenly found myself reluctant to break the hushed silence of such a sacred place.

  As we sat there staring at the empty wooden cross at the front of the chapel, I said, “I’ve got something important I want to ask you, Nikki, but before I do, what did you want to tell me?”

  She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and said, “When I first began my training here, I remember telling you how excited I was to be at Quantico, and that I was considering leaving the Norman Police Department and applying for a job at the Bureau.”

  “I remember. We were eating dinner just down the road at the Marine Corps Museum.”

  She nodded. “A couple of weeks ago, I decided I’d prefer to stay with local law enforcement and remain a detective. Of course, I’ll still be a member of Homeland Security’s national defense team, which means I’ll need to come back here every year for training, but right now, I’m looking forward to getting back to Oklahoma.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised. I know how much you love detective work.”

  “You’re not disappointed?”

  “No. Did you think I’d be disappointed?”

  She bit down on her lip. “I guess I thought if I worked for the Bureau, we might get to see each other more often, and I thought this was something you wanted.”

  I reached over and took her hand. “It is something I want, Nikki. I love you. I want to be with you every moment of every day; every second of every moment of every day.”

  She reached over and placed her other hand on top of mine. “I love you too, Titus. I think I fell in love with you the moment I walked in the church and saw you standing in front of the window trying to figure out how you were going to lie to me.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t know I was lying to you.”

  She leaned over and kissed me on the lips. “Yes, I did.”

  “Now that you mentioned it, it’s appropriate we’re in this chapel together right now.”

  She looked around the room. “Why? Has someone been murdered here?”

  I slipped off the pew and knelt down in front of her. “No, it’s appropriate because of this.”

  I reached inside my pocket and pulled out a black velvet box.

  When I opened it, I said, “Will you marry me, Nikki?”

  She placed her hand over her mouth and stared at the diamond ring for what seemed like a long time.

  When she finally reached out and ran her fingers over it, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “You’re . . . You’re asking me to marry you?”

  “I’d be honored if you’d say yes.”

  She smiled. “Yes, Titus Ray, I’ll marry you,” she said, putting her arms around my neck. “I’d be honored to be your wife.”

  After I slipped the ring on her finger, I took her in my arms and gave her a long, slow, passionate kiss.

  It seemed the only honorable thing to do.

  As we were leaving the chapel, my phone rang.

  It was Carlton.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Although many people have given me support and encouragement in the process of writing Four Months in Cuba, first and foremost, I wish to acknowledge the role my husband, James, and my daughter, Karis, have played in making my writing a success. They have continued to uplift me with their prayers, strengthen me with their love, and bolster me with their confidence.

  This book could not have been written without the expertise, advice, and assistance of jazz musician, Mark Hensley II; Cuban tourists, Brad and Becky Miller; Spanish tutor, Roxana Figueroa; Air Force Chaplain, Captain Andy Peck, plus other sources who shall forever remain nameless.

  I also wish to thank my beta readers for providing critiques and suggestions.

  Saving the best for last, I wish to thank my faithful readers, many of whom write to me on a weekly basis. Your love of Titus Ray Thrillers keeps me writing past midnight. May you never stop asking, “When is your next book coming out?”

  All of you serve as my inspiration.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Luana Ehrlich is an award-winning author, minister’s wife, and former missionary with a passion for spy thrillers and mystery novels. She began her series of Titus Ray novels when her husband retired from the pastorate. Now, she writes from an undisclosed location, seeking to avoid the torture of mundane housework, grocery shopping, and golf stories. Occasionally, she comes out of hiding to visit with her two grandsons or to enjoy a Starbucks caramel macchiato. She resides in Norman, Oklahoma.

  You’re invited to visit the author’s website LuanaEhrlich.com or TitusRayThrillers.com.

  A NOTE TO MY READERS

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Four Months in Cuba. If you enjoyed it, you might also enjoy reading the other books in this series, One Night in Tehran, Two Days in Caracas, and Three Weeks in Washington. The next book in the series, Five Years in Yemen, available on Amazon here is followed by Book VI, Two Steps Forward.

  A novella, One Step Back, the prequel to One Night in Tehran, is also available. All Titus Ray Thrillers are available on Amazon here.

  I’d love for you to do a review of Four Months in Cuba on Amazon. Since word-of-mouth testimonies and written re
views are usually the deciding factor in helping readers pick out a book, they are an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Your review doesn’t have to be extensive; a line or two is sufficient. Here’s the review link on Amazon.

  Would you also consider signing up for my newsletter? When you do, I’ll send you a FREE eBook, Titus Ray Thriller Recipes and Short Stories, plus you’ll receive insider information about Three Steps Away, the next book in the Titus Ray series. You can sign up on my website, LuanaEhrlich.com or sign up for the Titus Ray Thriller newsletter here and receive your FREE eBook (a $2.99 value).

  One of my greatest blessings comes from receiving email from my readers. My email address is author@luanaehrlich.com. I’d love to hear from you!

  As an added bonus, I’ve included the first chapter of Five Years in Yemen on the pages that follow.

  Blessings,

  Luana

  BONUS EXCERPT

  Five Years in Yemen: A Titus Ray Thriller

  Book V in the Titus Ray Thriller Series

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Tuesday, October 13

  Douglas Carlton, my boss and the head of the Middle East desk at the CIA, wanted to see me. As I traveled north along the Capital Beltway on my way to his townhouse in McLean, Virginia, I thought about our last conversation.

  It had taken place in his office at the Agency twenty-four hours ago when he’d signed off on my three-month leave following the successful completion of Operation Peaceful Retrieval.

  At the time, Carlton had seemed upset, and I’d wondered if his disgruntled attitude and the Top-Secret file on his desk were related.

  He’d hinted the file contained the components of a new intelligence operation, one I would have been offered had the Deputy Director of Operations (DDO) not just given me a leave of absence.

  Although I’d tried to pry the details out of him, he’d only offered me the bare facts; Jacob Levin—a CIA contractor who’d disappeared in Iraq five years ago—had been spotted in Yemen, and the DDO wanted to know what he was doing there.