[2012] Havana Lost

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  Nicky, though, was another matter. As an old friend and her former fiancé, he cautioned her to go slowly. She should first commission a study of the specific mine. Nicholas Financial recommended the engineer they’d brought, but if she had access to other sources she trusted, that was, of course, her decision. The engineer would evaluate the environment, the soil, and the water, and develop a plan and timetable. She could then commit or not to a preliminary exploration. If that proved fruitful, they could expand. Frankie nodded her agreement. Nicky concluded by saying that if it panned out, she would be one of the richest and most powerful women in the electronics industry.

  She shifted in her chair, temptation washing over her. Frankie’s goals had always been to expand the Pacelli Family businesses. Make them legitimate. To a large extent she had. She’d taken them out of restaurant management and supplies into real estate and construction. She had contemplated creating—or buying—a financial services firm and had been secretly eyeing Nicholas Financial. But mining was an opportunity she’d never considered. An opportunity that was simple, do-able, and tantalizing.

  Still, if she’d learned anything over the years, it was to proceed with caution. She gazed at the engineer, Trevor, and Ham. “So far you’ve been telling me all the benefits of excavating. What are the downsides?”

  The three men exchanged glances. Trevor cleared his throat. “You would be involving yourself in an industry fraught with politics, eco-terrorism, and armed militias who steal, torture, exploit and kill to get what they want. As soon as they learn there’s a new player in the market, they will come after you. You need to prepare yourself. It could—” he hesitated—“prove fatal. These are not people you want to tangle with.”

  Frankie, seated behind the same oak desk in the same office that had belonged to her late husband, leaned her elbows on the surface. A small smile curved her lips. “Apart from that, however, the operation is legal?”

  “Superficially, yes. But the means and methods your people will likely encounter are—”

  Suddenly Trevor cut himself off, as if he’d remembered who his client was and the activities she condoned. He cleared his throat and sank back in his chair, all nervous decorum.

  But Hamilton, the young man with them, watched her with interest. If she didn’t know better, she thought he might have suppressed a smile.

  Frankie studied him. Carla had told her Luisa was dating him and had made her displeasure known. Which, of course, made Frankie predisposed to like him. He looked like an earnest young man; blond, blue eyes, and handsome, like his grandfather used to be.

  Frankie remembered the times she and Nicky had shared. He’d been terrific in the sack, and he’d been loving and respectful. She remembered when he gave her his fraternity pin, remembered their plans to spend their lives together. But then she had met Luis, and everything changed.

  Now, though, because of Luis, their descendants had the chance to pick up where she and Nicky had left off. In a way, it was fitting. The circle would be complete. Perhaps, after she made her decision about the mine, she would plan a celebratory dinner party with Ham and Nicky, Luisa, and Carla.

  And with that, Frankie realized she had decided to go ahead with the mine. Luis had discovered it, sketched it, marking it for further exploration. Their son had died trying to protect it. It was her duty to finish what they had started. Fate, or God, or the Santería priestesses she used to consult had given her the opening. It was up to her to make it happen.

  This would be her tribute, her legacy to Luis and Michael. And how appropriate that Nicky, Ham, and Luisa would be part of it. After all, the mine would belong to Luisa one day. As Frankie’s granddaughter and only heir, Luisa would inherit all the family businesses.

  Frankie propped her chin on her hand, reflecting on the oddities of life. An avid socialist, Luis had discovered something that promised untold wealth. Their son, who had been raised with wealth, had risked it all to make certain the good guys won. Now his daughter, a young woman with lofty ideals, like Luis, would reap the benefits.

  Frankie thought back to her own suffering: the spic who’d informed and torn her away from Luis; her forced marriage to a cold, distant creature; the tragic death of her son. Perhaps there had been a reason for it all. Frankie had survived. Become strong and powerful. Ensured that the family would persevere and flourish. Now, if the coltan mine produced, she would be richer and more powerful. No one could get in her way.

  She flicked her gaze to Ham, then Nicky, then her legal and financial team. She was doing this for the Family. “Let’s proceed.”

  • • •

  Luisa was putting the finishing touches on a flan that night when Ham came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

  She yelped, jumped back, then sagged against him. “Don’t do that!” she cried. “You scared me!”

  He spun her around. She was breathing hard, her pulse racing, and her eyes held a mix of fear and anger. She pulled away, grabbed one of his hands and pressed it against her heart. “Feel it?”

  When he felt how fast her heart was thumping, contrition washed over him. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “No. You weren’t thinking.” She paused. “See, that’s the problem with someone like me. We—I—don’t take surprise well. It’s been drilled into me since I was little. Routine. Order. Predictability. Anything that deviates from that is a red flag.”

  He nodded. She let him draw her close.

  “You’re probably wondering what kind of mess you got yourself into.” She looked over. “It’s not all fun and games, is it?”

  “I don’t regret a second. The last thing I want is to hurt you. Or scare you. Or make you uneasy. It will never happen again.”

  He kissed her. She closed her eyes, seeming to savor it. Then her eyes flew open, and a grin burst across her lips. “Gotcha!”

  It was Ham’s turn to be startled.

  “I was giving you a load of b.s.,” she laughed.

  “About what?”

  “I don’t cook very often, so when I do I need to concentrate. I was so into it I wasn’t expecting you or—”

  “Are you kidding me? The rest of it was—made up?”

  Her smile was full of impish glee. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  Ham stepped back. “Really? That’s the way it’s gonna be? You owe me, sister. Big time.”

  “Wait for the flan. It’ll be ready soon.”

  “Well, then,” Ham said. “I intend to make the best of the next couple of hours.” He grabbed her arm. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are you taking me?” Her voice rose in mock fright.

  “To the woodshed. You need to be punished.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  • • •

  Afterwards they lay half-drowsy in each other’s arms.

  “I want to feel like this forever,” Luisa whispered.

  Ham’s arms tightened around her. “You sure I don’t have to worry about a jilted lover, crazy with jealousy, coming after me?”

  “I told you. Jed goes with the flow. Whatever will be will be. He’s kind of Zen that way. He’ll have a new girlfriend in a week. Women find cowboys irresistible.”

  Ham arched his eyebrows.

  “But not as irresistible as you.” Luisa snuggled into the crook of his arm. She loved the way she felt with Ham. As if she could melt into him. With Jed she’d kept herself separate. As if her subconscious knew he was only a dalliance until she met the real thing. And Ham was the real thing.

  “Is the flan ready?”

  She giggled. “Thinking about your stomach already? Well, I have news for you. I’m not a great cook. Funny. Both Mom and Gran are. I guess the gene skipped me.”

  “Speaking of your grandmother, I met her this morning. We had a meeting in Barrington.”

  “I know.”

  “News travels fast.”

  “Always with the DeLucas.”

  “Well?”

>   She played with the hair on his chest. There was just enough for her to run her fingers through. Most of it was blond. “My grandmother thinks this is the best thing since sliced bread.”

  “What is?”

  “You and me,” Luisa said. “She said it was destiny. Fate. She used to date your grandfather when they were young, you know. They were pinned.”

  “What’s that? A ritual involving blood-letting and leeches? Like Angelina Jolie and what’s his name?”

  She laughed. “Apparently back in the last century a guy would give a girl his fraternity pin. It meant they were more than going steady. Just this side of engaged.”

  “My grandfather never mentioned it.”

  “No reason to,” Luisa said. “But now, Gran wants to have a dinner party. You me, your grandfather, her. To celebrate the circle of life. Of course, my mother isn’t so happy about it.”

  “Your mother doesn’t like me?”

  “She doesn’t like anyone I go out with.”

  “Then my mission in life will be to make her happy.”

  “No. Your mission in life is to make me happy.” She kissed his chest.

  “In that case, I guess we’d better get started.” He pulled her on top of him.

  • • •

  They were nodding off when the doorbell rang. Ham groaned and covered his head with a pillow. Luisa checked the clock. A little after midnight. Not that late.

  “Ham, aren’t you going to get the door?”

  “It’s probably my neighbor. He gets high, then goes out and forgets his key. I have an extra.” Ham got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants.

  “It could be my security guard. She has orders to be in the hallway outside the apartment, not in the car, when I’m—um—sleeping out.”

  The doorbell chimed again.

  “Just a minute, dammit,” Ham called and trudged toward the front door. On his way he closed the door to the bedroom.

  Luisa pulled up the sheets and spread out on the mattress. His side of the bed was still warm.

  A moment later she heard a scuffle followed by sounds of a struggle. Then a soft thud and a muffled cry. Luisa shot out of bed. She grabbed Ham’s t-shirt and threw it over her naked body. Adrenaline surged through her. She wanted to run into the living room to see what was going on. But years of training—learned from her mother and Gran—kicked in.

  The truth was she hadn’t lied to Ham earlier. She’d been taught to be wary of any unexpected sound or movement. It usually meant trouble. If she ever confronted it, she’d been taught, she should make herself as small a target as possible. Hide. Run. Whatever was necessary.

  Now heavy footsteps clomped across the marble floor. Not Ham’s tread. Luisa grabbed the quilt off the bed. She thought about her training. She should hurry into the bathroom and lock the door behind her. They were coming for her. Which meant her security guard was either gone or dead. No help there.

  She thought she remembered a window high on the bathroom wall that she could probably squeeze through. She had no idea if there was a window ledge or exterior support, and Ham’s apartment was on the fifth floor. Climbing out might kill her as fast as staying put. But it was her only chance.

  Then she changed her mind. Ham was out there by himself. She couldn’t leave him alone. She would be the worst kind of coward. It was that simple. If she surrendered to the thugs who were out there, maybe they’d spare Ham.

  Someone jiggled the bedroom doorknob. “I’m coming,” Luisa said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I’m putting on some clothes.”

  The jiggling stopped, but she knew it was only for an instant. Whoever was out there would guess she was scrabbling for a weapon. She was right. Seconds later, the door banged open and two men lunged for her.

  She gasped but didn’t scream. “I know you want me. I’ll go with you. But please, don’t hurt him.”

  A grunt from the man closest to her was her only response.

  He grabbed her and pinned her arms behind her back. The other lashed them together, threw something over her head that made it hard to breathe. They dragged her out of the bedroom.

  She heard a moan from someplace in the living room.

  “Ham. Are you all right? Sweetheart?” Her voice sounded muffled.

  Another moan. A queasy feeling shot through her. She wanted to collapse, break down, comfort him. But she couldn’t. “Please,” she pleaded out loud. “You’ve got what you came for. Don’t hurt him.”

  Another grunt in response. As they hauled her across the marble floor, a sharp crack arced through the room. Ham’s groans suddenly stopped. Luisa screamed. Something stung her arm. For an instant she felt cold and dizzy. Then she went limp, and everything went black.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Carla wasn’t especially worried when Luisa didn’t answer her cell. There were times her daughter deliberately refused to pick up. It was her little rebellion. Sometimes the urge to be unknown, just another anonymous soul, was overpowering. Carla could relate.

  She didn’t worry when Luisa failed to come home that night. She knew Luisa was annoyed that Carla hadn’t warmed to Ham and was expressing her displeasure. So Carla called Luisa’s bodyguard instead. The woman, stationed discreetly down the hall from Ham’s condo, affirmed that Luisa was inside and had given no indication she’d be leaving. Carla double-checked what time the guard went off duty. She would be there until 2:00 AM, Marta said, at which time the overnight guard would relieve her.

  The guards never called unless there was a problem, or Luisa’s schedule changed, and they thought Carla should know. Still, Carla checked in daily, particularly when she hadn’t heard from Luisa. This wasn’t the way she’d expected to live her life, and, like her daughter, she occasionally resented it. It was another way Francesca DeLuca controlled her. But, over time, it had become routine.

  Yet Carla couldn’t help but wonder what their lives would have been like if she hadn’t come to Chicago so many years ago. If she could have found a way to make it work in Miami. She indulged herself in flashes of—not regret—but fanciful thinking. She wouldn’t have become a doctor, but she might have stayed at the pharmacy. Perhaps one day, she might have been able to buy it from the old man. She would have scrimped and saved, but she’d done that her entire life. She and Luisa would have led a modest, respectable life. Not this life, of course. The luxuries and opportunities Francesca lavished on them were way beyond anything Carla could have provided.

  Still.

  She forced herself to stop thinking about what might have been. Ni modo, así es la vida. Life was what it was, and tonight, thankfully, nothing was amiss. She made herself a cup of herbal tea, watched the news, then read for a while. As she turned out the light, she had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that Francesca’s vigilance was generally a blessing for a single mother with a willful daughter.

  She was dreaming about performing an operation on a child except that she wasn’t a surgeon when her phone trilled. She came abruptly awake and checked the time. One AM. Her stomach turned over. She picked up.

  It was a man’s voice, muffled and abrasive. “We have your daughter. If you want her back alive, listen carefully. There is a map…”

  • • •

  Francesca sent a car, and less than an hour later, Carla was on her way to Barrington. Sharply etched clouds illuminated by a pale wash of moonlight scudded across the night sky. They had twenty-four hours to surrender the map, the man said, and they should expect a call tomorrow afternoon to set up the exchange. He didn’t have to add the inevitable “Or else.”

  When the driver turned into Francesca’s semi-circular gravel driveway, every light in the Barrington home shone, as if daring the darkness to retreat. But Carla took no comfort in it. For her, time and space, light and dark would have no meaning until Luisa was safe.

  Inside, she collapsed in a chair in Francesca’s study. She was in a pair of sweats, and her hair, short and spiky, flew out in all directions. Francesca, sitting behin
d her desk, wasn’t much better. Wearing a dark robe, her hair down, her mother-in-law was a ghostly specter, Kabuki-like with her wan, pale face. She was on the phone non-stop, as if gathering information and issuing orders might give her control over the situation. But Carla knew the frenetic activity was a ruse. Neither of them had any control.

  Between calls, Francesca supervised the arrivals and departures of her men. She’d dispatched two soldiers to Evanston, where they’d found the body of the security guard. But when they broke down the door and found Ham, they discovered he was still breathing. Francesca called the paramedics and Nicky, who immediately started down to Northwestern Memorial. Meanwhile, her consigliere and sotto capo were on their way to Barrington. “So are my group captains. We’ll figure out our plan of attack.”

  Plan of attack? Had Francesca lost her sanity? They had no idea who’d kidnapped Luisa or where she was. Swinging between fury and panic, Carla felt both chilled and feverish. She hated the woman sitting across from her. But she feared her, too. On a good day, she could disengage enough to see her mother-in-law’s good points. But this was not a good day. This woman had almost killed a young man her daughter cared for, and Carla had the uneasy feeling that the killing was just beginning.

  “What did you do?” she spat out.

  Francesca looked up from the phone.

  Carla motioned her to hang up. When she did, Carla repeated very slowly, “What—did—you—do?”