by Matt Lincoln
“We have authorities on the way,” Philippe announced. “Señorita Nuñez has what she needs in order to keep you Americans out of trouble, but that won’t help your friend if he doesn’t return by the time they’re here.”
“Mr. Birch?” Nuñez snapped. “Where is he?”
“The more important question is what happened here,” I told her, and then I turned to Arturo. “So, what happened?”
Arturo blinked and shifted the rag on his forehead.
“Pablo and I watched television with Mr. Birch,” Arturo said. “He got bored with state television and tried to find Florida broadcasts. When that didn’t work, he told us he was going to bed. I haven’t seen him since. Pablo went upstairs like I said, but that… that’s the last I heard from him.”
I bunched my fist around the edge of the chair. I didn’t want Nuñez to know Mike had skipped out, but there wasn’t much I could do to prevent it. The old fart needed to get his ass back to the house soon. If we could convince our trusty liaison that he’d been hiding… Dammit, no one would believe that, and Arturo was sure to say something if I didn’t.
“Do you think your friend was taken by force?” Nuñez asked with a glare that could cut steel.
I met her glare. “All we can do right now is speculate.” At least that much was truthful, and Arturo said nothing. I wasn’t sure if that earned or lost him brownie points with me.
Nuñez crossed her arms and looked down. She licked her lips, and her shoulders sagged. It hit me that if this operation went to hell, the fallout would come down on her shoulders.
“Whatever happened, I’ll make this right for you,” I promised her.
CHAPTER 15
Holm, Clyde, and I hung out in the backyard while the Cuban big kids met with Nuñez. Our job was to be quiet and not rock the tidy little boats the government expected out of us. What would come of our little mission would be determined by what was said.
“They had to expect something would happen,” Holm complained. “Someone murdered someone else. They aren’t exactly going to cooperate when we find them.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the side of the house.
“We’re going to find out who is responsible for Howie’s death,” I said. “I promised Mike.”
“Yeah, well, he promised to stay put.” Holm righted a patio chair and sat. “He’s not telling us everything, Ethan, and you know it. This buddy of his was in over his head for sure, but if Mike isn’t telling us all we need to know, we could get in over our heads and not know until too late.”
I clenched my jaw. Holm was not wrong. Part of staying alive in bad situations was having all the intel a guy could get. After the attack on the house, I had to wonder what gave us away, and which enemy was involved. Until they identified the goon in the kitchen, we wouldn’t have any leads on whether he came after John Cartwright or us for investigating a profitable scheme.
Light footsteps crunched along the gravel from around the corner of the house. I tensed, but with all of the police and government cars now at the house, I relaxed. Anyone with a bad agenda would’ve been stupid to approach this mess.
“Agent Marston, Agent Holm.”
Nuñez held out two steaming coffee mugs. She’d changed from her club clothes into her practical khakis and a simple polo shirt. Her hair was swept into a messy bun, and she now wore glasses.
“Thank you,” I said as I accepted a mug. “How goes it in there?”
“Your man, Joe, he is helping our team with evidence.” A tiny smile crept across her lips. “He’s teaching and showing off tools as they process the scene.”
I raised a brow. “That sounds like him. He’s not much into socializing, but if you give him a minute to teach you about lab techniques, he’ll keep you for an hour.”
“Any idea who this guy was?” Holm asked.
A light went on in the kitchen windows, which were above our heads. They must have brought in lamps to get a better look.
“No,” Nuñez told us. She ran a hand over her face, and I noticed the shadows beneath her eyes. “They’re about to run his fingerprints.”
I grabbed one of the other chairs that had been tossed and set it behind her. She sat with a long sigh.
“You aren’t used to these long days, are you?” I asked.
Nuñez shook her head. “I’m a liaison, not an agent like you. But you know that.” She closed her eyes for a moment and yawned. “The night isn’t over yet. Your friend has not returned, and we have to find him before we take you to another location to house you.”
“In other words, we have to wait up for the kid who stayed out past curfew,” I grumbled.
We couldn’t have timed the subject better had we tried. The man in question appeared around the corner opposite of where Nuñez had approached. Mike usually sported a Tom Selleck-style look, but sometime during the day, he’d shaved off his mustache and found a nondescript ball cap. In the dim yard, it was hard to be sure, but I thought I made out deeper and newer lines around his mouth and eyes.
“Speak of the devil.” Holm rocked back in his chair. “Have a good time, did we?”
“Stow it, Robert,” Mike growled. “Ethan, we need to talk.”
“Really?” I pushed away from the wall and stepped in front of him. “You don’t think we should’ve spoken before you pulled a Houdini? Damn, Mike, you missed a hell of a good time while you were out.”
Nuñez stood and moved next to me. “You’re leaving in the morning, Mr. Birch. The Cuban government will no longer tolerate your presence in our country.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He met my eyes with his steel glare. “Before they give me the boot, I have intel for you. It’s the best I could do, but it should help.”
“What are you talking about?” I wasn’t about to let on how much the betrayal of my trust hurt. We were brothers-in-arms if separated by years between our respective careers.
“A name in the States.” He cast a sidelong glance at Nuñez. “It’s for your and Holm’s ears only.”
Nuñez put her hands on her hips. “The agreement is to share everything we learn about the case.”
“No.” Mike offered her a tired smile. “I appreciate all you’re doing, Señorita Nuñez, but the person in question doesn’t live in Cuba and is not a Cuban citizen.”
“Extradition agreements go both ways,” she insisted. “If this person leads us to Cuban nationals who are doing wrong, then we have an interest in their arrest and interrogation as well.”
“I will only talk to Marston and Holm, and that’s final.” Mike stalked toward the house’s front door. “Ethan, I’m going to collect my bag. If you two would join me, we can talk.”
I caught up to him. “The guard you ditched is dead on the floor in our bedroom. He went upstairs with a fatal wound to check on you.”
Mike was quiet for a moment. He stopped and looked to the sky.
“Was he checking on me to see if I was okay or see if I was part of the problem?” He turned and faced us. “You don’t know my history here. It’s not something I talk about, and I guarantee that all that your friend back there knows is that her superiors would sooner spit on their flag than deal with me.”
“What the hell did you do here?” I demanded. “Robbie and I pulled a lot of covert duty during our careers, but none of it got us into this kind of hate with another government.”
Mike took a deep breath and let it go. “There are some things that are best left alone, son.” He pointed to the front door. “Let’s go to Robbie and Joe’s room. We’ll talk there.”
I hesitated because of all the officials in the house at the moment. We’d cleared out a few cheap listening devices when we arrived all those hours earlier, but there was no reason to believe they hadn’t been replaced in the interim.
“Let’s talk out here,” I said. “The house is crawling with people. There’s no privacy in there right now.”
“Fine.”
We walked to the far side of the hou
se, away from the vehicles, and away from the back yard. The chain-link fence didn’t have a gate on that side, which likely meant Holm had climbed over earlier. Or jumped. The dude’s legs were long enough for him to clear it like a hurdle. This time, though, the three of us met at the corner away from the house. Mike spoke in a low voice.
“One of my old contacts lives in Old Havana, not far from here.” He pulled the ball cap lower over his eyes. “He’s out of the game but still keeps his ears open.”
“What did he hear about this case?” I asked.
“There was a guy, José Delgado, who owned a lot of land before the Revolution. Delgado and his friends fled Cuba before Castro’s people could go after them. Turns out that a bunch of these people owned some damned fine cars. They hid as many as they could in hopes of coming back for them.”
I snorted. “That didn’t happen.”
“Exactly.” Mike made a vague gesture. “Apparently, Delgado kept a master list of where these cars were stored. Some were discovered by the government, but most weren’t. Now, Delgado’s grandson Manuel has the list.”
“You said he lives in the States,” Holm said. “Where?”
“All I know is that he’s probably in Florida, if not in the Southeast.” Mike moved away from the fence. “That’s all he had, fellas.” He rubbed his face for a moment. “I’m going to follow orders and get the hell out of here in the morning.”
He started to walk away, but I put my hand on his arm. His muscles tensed, and I thought for a second that he was going to slug me, but he relaxed. I knew that reflex a little too well.
“You have to stay within eyesight or earshot of us,” I informed him. “If you leave again, they’ll throw you in prison and make a big-ass deal about whatever happened between you and their military. That wouldn’t be a good look for anyone.”
Mike nodded with a grimace. “Fair enough.” He looked me in the eye. “This is half of why I retired. The stress ain’t worth it anymore. You boys keep that in mind.”
Holm was quieter than usual as we went inside to let the Cubans know our erstwhile friend had returned. He only spoke when the officials grilled us about our involvement in the kerfuffle. I pulled him aside into a quiet corner before the Cubans had us gather our bags to relocate.
“What’s on your mind, partner?” I asked.
“I want to trust him, Ethan.” Holm nodded toward where they continued to give Mike the third degree. “He’s been a hell of a friend and asset since we met him, but there’s so much we don’t know. The guy had to have been into blacker ops than we ever looked at. He treats us the way we look at new frogmen.”
“I know.” I hooked my thumbs in my belt loops and looked down. “Believe me, I get what you’re saying, but my gut tells me to trust him.” I glanced in Mike’s direction and then back at Holm. “The thing we need to change is how much information he sees fit to give us before getting into a situation. Bringing us in here blind to his past hurts this investigation. He’s lucky they didn’t grab him when he came here on his own.”
Holm shrugged. “Well, he didn’t come under the MBLIS flag, and his current name wouldn’t have raised flags.”
“It will now,” I pointed out. “That was a hell of a risk to find justice for a wayward pal. We’re going to see this through because someone is clearly willing to murder American citizens. I’m not gonna allow that.”
“Same.” Holm looked around the room. “Let’s collect our people and get the hell out of this house.”
“You got it, bro.”
CHAPTER 16
We slept all of three hours in a neatly kept hotel suite, courtesy of the Cuban government. Arturo stayed on as our primary guard at his insistence. He sported eight stitches in the wound above his eye and a hell of a shiner on his chin. For a grunt, the guy was growing on me.
“At least Philippe should be getting some sleep,” Holm said with a yawn. He tugged at the Hawaiian shirt he wore over a plain white tee. “You about ready for breakfast with González?”
“I am, but I wish I felt better about it.” I spun a Panama hat on my forefinger and then flicked it toward Holm. “Until we know whether that intruder was after Mike or us, we’ll have to assume the worst.”
“Yeah.” Holm shrugged. “We gotta roll with it. This is our best shot at getting to the car smugglers.”
“I know.”
I frowned to where Mike paced the other end of the hotel room. His bag was ready, and a fresh guard waited for him at the door. I’d wanted to go to the airport to see that he made it safely to the plane home, but sending Clyde with him and the guard was the best we could do. Being late to meet González was not an option. It was time to grab the third wheel of our trio.
I knocked at the door that joined our room to the next.
“Nuñez, are you ready?”
The door eased open, and she walked through, looking as chipper as no one had the right to be after the long night our crew had. She wore a summery dress with a tropical flower print. Her silky hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she’d added earrings that dangled with a simple orange-red flower design.
“You should call me ‘Yoani,’” she said. “It’s a common name, and it’s better than using my last name with this…” She scowled. “I don’t want him to know my last name.”
“Fair enough.” I smiled. “You can call me ‘Ted’ and Robbie ‘Liam’ while we talk with González.”
Holm grinned. “And use our first names when we aren’t around suspects. Not a big deal.”
I wanted to swat Holm on the arm, but I didn’t want to contradict him. The less mature side of me wanted to hear Yoani call me by my first name.
“Ethan and Robert,” Yoani said with a nod. “Ted and Liam. I understand.”
“Just don’t get it mixed up,” Mike grumbled from behind us. “They’re putting their asses on the line for me, for my friend.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want them getting hurt.”
Yoani’s lips thinned when she looked at Mike.
“I am capable of playing my role,” she said in a sharp tone. “That is something you ought to learn yourself.”
Mike took a deep breath as if to volley a return. Instead, he let it go in a long exhalation.
“You’re right.” He put on his sun hat. “Just remember that if I hadn’t, these boys would have one less lead.”
“I want to know—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “Later. We don’t want word getting out until our people back home can get a word or three with the person in question.” I offered a smile. “Let’s try to make it less thorny first.”
Mike shook our hands as the new guard and Clyde headed toward the door out.
“Good luck,” he told us. “Break a few legs if you have to. You know where to find me when you get back.”
As simple as that, he and the other two were gone. A few minutes later, Holm, Yoani, and Arturo joined me on the way out to the Emgrand. Arturo tossed me the keys.
“Watch out for potholes,” he told me as he got into a back seat. “I will get out two blocks before you park.”
Halfway to the café in question, I glanced at Yoani. She rode shotgun and had a distant look.
“You don’t have to go with us,” I told her. “We can say you got sick.”
“I will see it through.” She summoned a fake smile. “González is interested in me. That may help distract him.”
“This wasn’t supposed to be part of your job,” Holm added. “We shouldn’t have gotten you mixed up with him at the club.”
“It is what it is.” She pushed stray hair from her face. “I knew there was a risk if I went with you last night.”
I suspected it didn’t matter how she felt about taking a risk. Her assignment was to accompany us wherever we went and whatever we did. She shouldn’t have been pushed into the situation, and yet, here she was. Holm and I hadn’t expected to have her protection as part of our mission, but that wouldn’t stop us from fulfilling i
t.
“Okay. We’re looking for unique vehicles and have a budget of a quarter mil total.” I looked at the rearview mirror and saw Holm nod. “If he lays breadcrumbs for reselling at profit, we’ll see where that takes us.”
“Agreed, as long as we don’t come across as desperate,” Holm said. “Yoani, we decided you’re a friend we picked up since arriving, right?”
“Yes.” She stared out the window. “We met at another club and have hung out ever since. González will assume that I am, as you say, on the market.”
I touched her arm. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” I wasn’t sure that I was okay with it, but it was her choice.
“I can work with it,” she answered.
“What if this man gets agresivo with her?” Arturo asked.
“We won’t let her out of our sight,” I promised them both. “This isn’t without risk, but we’ll keep you as safe as possible.”
We’d worked through all of the points before hitting the sack in the wee hours of the morning, but I was all for last-minute reviews of mission points. Time was out when we stopped to let Arturo out.
“See you after we’re done at the café,” I said.
He gave a small salute and melted into a small crowd of tourists who were already bustling about to see the sights. Arturo knew the area well and had shown us on a map where he’d be able to watch us without being observed.
“How long has he been in your department?” I asked as we pulled away.
“This is the first I’ve worked with him,” Yoani admitted. Her brows rose. “Do you think he’s a spy?”
I chuckled. “Here? I assume everyone is a spy. Don’t worry about it.”
She relaxed, but I didn’t. The guy was competent and not as gruff as he’d first seemed. For a diplomatic security guard, though, he seemed almost too competent.
I wondered what Holm thought and resolved to ask him later. If we didn’t impress Javier González over the next hour, Arturo would be the least of our worries.