Operation Due Diligence

by Owen Parr

  “Good morning, Alex,” she said, and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Sleep well?”

  “Excellent, thank you. Can I get coffee for you?” He offered.

  “Yes, please,” she said. “ I could not sleep at all. This whole thing with Noriega has me very concerned.”

  “In what way?”

  “Am I a target? Are they trying to eliminate witnesses?”

  “Once you are back in the States, you’ll be under protection. Secondly, you are not the only witness against him. I think they are desperate and trying to strike back as a result of our invasion.”

  “Were you involved in that operation?” She asked, as she sat on the sofa to drink her coffee.

  “No, that was ‘Operation Just Cause,’ the actual invasion. There was an operation just prior to that called ‘Nifty Package.’ I had a minor role with that, but mainly it involved Navy SEALs that took out Noriega’s private plane and heavily armored gunboat. There was a confrontation with the Panamanian military at the airport where Noriega kept his plane. Unfortunately, we lost four SEALs, plus eight more were wounded in that operation. At the end, they were successful in destroying his plane with a well-aimed AT4 rocket,” he said, looking out the window. “His gunboat was another challenge. Four SEALs dived into the canal, while others manned the Zodiacs. The divers came under heavy attack by the military using grenades. Finally two of the SEALs were able to destroy the gunboat with well-placed bombs. They suffered zero casualties in that attempt.”

  Julia watched Alex tell the story as she sat by the desk and looked through the open double window of the old farmhouse at the French countryside outside. The garden looked vibrant with the sun’s rays embracing the beautiful yellow and deep purple iris plants.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t?” He asked, as he gazed at the serene view.

  Julia moved in behind him and embraced him. She could smell his cologne. The fragrance had stayed with her throughout the night after their embrace by the fireplace. She rested her face on his back, and without saying anything, she surprised Alex by squeezing her body against his.

  He grabbed her hands, which were cold and trembling, and loosened the embrace just enough to give himself room to turn and face her.

  Julia looked into his eyes and squeezed him a little harder. Alex followed suit and embraced her.

  Their lips met, and an electrical charge of excitement shot through her for the first time in a long time. Deep warmth took over her entire body. The room became out of focus, but somehow the flowers on the desk had taken on a bright glow.

  “Julia,” said Alex.

  “You talk too much,” she said, and she began pulling him towards her, as she fell flat on the bed still holding onto him. “Make love to me, Alex. Make love to me,” she whispered, softly into his ear.

  She was facing up in bed. Her silk robe fell open exposing her full naked body as it throbbed with arousal. She grabbed the collar of Alex’s polo shirt and pulled it off and felt his hot and sweaty back.

  Alex slowly slid down, nestling her entire body and rubbing his chest against hers. He kissed her neck, breasts, tummy and more.

  Julia moaned as her entire body was now engulfed in a warmness she had never felt before. “I need you Alex. I need you now,” she demanded.

  Kneeling in front of the bed, Alex continued to kiss her lower body, caressing her breasts forcefully, and then began moving up on the bed while kissing her until their lips met once again in a hot embrace.

  “Your pants,” she said. “Take them off.” His warm breath and incendiary lips were ravaging her entire being. “Now, Alex, now,” she said, softly. She gasped as Alex entered her body, and she clutched him around his back wrapping her legs around his derriere.

  For hours their lovemaking was uninhibited and fulfilling, and their passion grew exponentially.

  For the next six years, their relationship blossomed into a passionate love affair full of desire, gratification, and friendship. Julia knew she had met her soul mate.

  CHICAGO

  LINCOLN PARK

  THE YEAR 2000, TEN YEARS LATER

  Alex sat on an iron bench in the park. The deep green grass was freshly cut and a pleasant scent emanated from it. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees and concocted rhythmic tones, as the bright noon sun shone directly on top of the park. The shadows of the trees gave him the impression that there were numerous people standing erect alongside of him all waiting for Julia. Patiently, he waited.

  “Alex,” she called out.

  Alex raised his eyes and saw Julia was standing just a few feet away from him.

  Rising to his feet, he said, “Julia, how good to see you. Happy Birthday, by the way.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” she said, without much emotion. “What’s up with the theatrics last night?”

  “Sorry about that. I did not mean to startle you.”

  “Startle me?” She said. “Are you kidding? You almost gave me a heart attack with the chance you took with Jonathan there. What kind of a sick joke was that?”

  “Julia, I did not mean it as a joke.”

  “Why? Is that your new job? Delivering cakes at night?”

  “No, that’s not my new job,” he said, laughing softly and hoping she was not as serious as she sounded.

  “Have you ever heard of the phone?” Julia asked, glancing around.

  “In all honesty I did not think you would answer my call or call me back if I had left a message,” he replied.

  “And you would have been correct, Counselor,” she said, in a stern voice. “You show up dressed like a baker after four years of not hearing from you—and you want to visit in a park?”

  “You have every right to be upset, Julia. Please, forgive me,” he said. “It has been four years. Although, that was by mutual agreement. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you, believe me.”

  “A baker’s hat?” She asked, smiling.

  “Please, sit here for a minute. I would like to discuss something with you,” he said, somewhat relieved when she smiled.

  “I have but a few minutes. I have a million things going on,” she said, as she brushed off some leaves from the bench before sitting down.

  “I am very much aware of that,” he said, moving aside to give her more room.

  “You have the floor, Counselor.”

  “Thank you. Let me get to the point. I am sure you have heard of the organization in Cuba called El Concilio Cubano. The Cuban Council is attempting to bring about a peaceful end to the Castros reign of fear and devastation in our old country. The key word here is peaceful—no bloodshed, no Cubans fighting Cubans, no civil war,” he said.

  Julia nodded.

  “Well, in Miami,” he started, “we have formed the Cuban Council in Exile.”

  “Sorry for interrupting, Alex, but in the last forty years there have been and still are over one hundred or more anti-Castro groups in the United States and around the world. Are you saying there is now another group starting up? What could they possibly be thinking?”

  “That is a good question,” he replied. She had a point, after all. For forty years there had been groups forming and training to overthrow Castro with little impact or organization. As a matter of fact, some were merely weekend warriors. They would work a full week at their jobs, and then on the weekends meet, dress in camouflage, and drive into the Florida Everglades to train, shoot, and play war.

  He continued, “It has taken a lot of work by a lot of people to get to where we are right now,” he said. “And you are right, there are numerous anti-Castro groups that individually have had little impact on the suffering of the people in Cuba. What we have achieved at this moment, I think, is monumental. Think of it. The majority of these groups and more importantly their leaders have agreed to join in and be part of the Cuban Council in Exile. Further—and I think this is the key—they have agreed to be led by a single person. But, it must be a person that currently is not associated with
any of the groups. A person that can rally not only the members of the groups, but everyone that can have a positive effect on the mission of the council.”

  “This all sounds like a fairy tale. Forty years of exile, an aborted invasion in 1961, an embargo, and I could go on and on. What makes you think that anything will change?” She asked.

  “Possibly the impending demise of Fidel and his brother Raul. After all, they can’t last forever. The Cuban people, for the most part are followers of Fidel, and although communism has been brainwashed into them for forty years, I don’t think the majority believe in the party line. They have witnessed the Soviet Union dissolve into Russia and the formation of the Eastern European countries that were once under the control of the Soviet Union. They have seen China adopt some form of capitalism, albeit for an elite group. Cuba remains one of the few countries under strict communist rule, and I feel . . . many feel that the tide is turning and there is an opportunity for change.”

  “Possibly,” she said. “So, why are we talking? What has this to do with you being here?”

  “Right,” he said. “As I said before, all the egos have been put aside, and the council has agreed that a nonmember of these groups must lead the council.”

  “Hang on a second, I don’t think I like where this is going,” she said.

  “Hear me out. We, at the council, have spent endless hours—make those days—in deliberations and selection of who this person is to be. Committees have searched high and low to come up with first a long list and then a short list of who could be the best person to take on this task. On every list and on every vote, you came out on top,” said Alex.

  “I wonder how that happened,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  “I know where you are going with that. Trust me, I am but one vote of many in this endeavor,” he replied. “Julia, you are the great-great-great-granddaughter of the first president of Cuba. A man known to have placed the interest of the Cuban people first before his own. A man with a reputation for decency and fairness. You, in turn, have been an inspiration to many with your success, high achievements, and your impeccable reputation,” he said.

  “Almost impeccable, no thanks to you,” she said, smiling.

  “Touché,” he said, smiling back.

  “Alex, this is very flattering. However, let’s understand something. Yes, I was born in Cuba, but I came to the United States with my parents at the age of seven. I was raised here and have been an American citizen for over forty years. I am proud of my Cuban heritage, but I am an American, have been for most of my life, and I love this country as if I had been born here,” she said.

  “Your great-great-great-grandfather Estrada Palma was an American citizen when he became the first President of Cuba,” he said.

  “Touché back at you,” she said. “Alex, I have never been a politician, nor have I ever had any interest in being one. If anything, I am more of a revolutionary. That’s why I run my own company. I don’t like the bureaucratic confinements. Moreover, I am extremely busy at my firm. Extremely busy. I doubt I could do this task justice without sacrificing a tremendous amount of time for my business and my life,” she said.

  “So, you feel that the time it may require to undertake this endeavor would be too consuming and would interfere with your business and personal life?” He asked, taking advantage of the opening.

  “Well, that sounds as if I am being selfish, and I don’t want it to sound like that. What do I know about running an anti-Castro group?” She said.

  “Julia, what we want is your charisma, your communication and negotiation skills, and, of course, your leadership. This is not a nine-to-five job. We have committees doing all the work. From strategizing, lobbying, to writing a new constitution for a free Cuba,” he said.

  “Well, I would not want to be a figurehead either,” she said.

  He took a deep breath. He was close, so very close. “Look, everyone knows your capabilities and strong leadership abilities. No one is expecting you to be a figurehead. We want you to set the tone and run the show. We also understand that this is not a full-time job. This is a true case of the job seeking the person, as opposed to the person seeking the job. You, Julia, are the right person for this job. The council, the exile community, and the suffering people of our country of birth, most of all, need this change to take place. I know that you have what it takes to do this.”

  He looked at Julia as she got up from the bench and walked a few steps before coming back toward him.

  “When is all this taking place?” She asked.

  “Well, we know you are busy with taking MonteCarlo public in the near future. Our plan is to have a conference at the InterContinental Hotel in Miami to announce the formation of the Cuban Council in Exile and it’s President as soon as possible. If you accept the position, we would leave it up to you,” he said.

  “I see,” she said. “I need to give this some thought and talk to both my partner and to Jonathan. All three of us have to be on board. I still have my reservations about the whole endeavor, but it looks like a lot of people and a lot of time have been spent on this effort. So, the least I will do is consider it. But, Alex, I make no promises,” she said.

  “I understand and appreciate your time and consideration, How much time do you need?”

  “Where can I reach you tomorrow?”

  “I’m staying at The Ritz,” he replied.

  “Oh?”

  “It’s close to the park,” he said and added, “and it does bring back some good memories.”

  “You are such a smart-ass for a baker,” she said.

  “I’ll wait for your call. Thank you, Julia,” he said, laughing.

  As confident as he had been able to convince her, Alex took a deep breath. His job was done for the moment. But the risk he had taken. . . . being this close to Julia, after all these years, had rekindled his feelings for her, and he hoped that would not be a problem going forward.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CAYO PIEDRA, CUBA

  APPROXIMATELY 145 MILES FROM HAVANA

  General Garces was at Fidel’s private grandiose resort, a cluster of small islands called Cayo Piedra about 20 miles south of the infamous Bay of Pigs. Cayo Piedra, where Fidel had a mansion, had been his secret retreat since the 1960s. Garces sat facing the clear blue waters overlooking the white sandy beach.

  “General,” said Captain Rafael Hernandez.

  “Yes, Rafael,” he replied.

  “El Señor Ramirez is here, General,” said the captain.

  “Very well, have him come in.”

  Ramirez walked in, smiling.

  “Rick, how good to see you,”

  “General, you are looking well. This place agrees with you,” said Ramirez.

  “How was your flight?”

  “Without a hitch. I never get tired of flying here. The beauty of these waters is magnificent. The blues of the water are so bright and varied. It’s like an aquarium,” said Ramirez

  “I know, Rick, I can sit here for hours to read and meditate. Anyway, have a seat. I need to share something with you. How about a cafecito?” he asked.

  Ramirez nodded his acceptance, and Garces waved over one of the guards and told him to get two Cuban coffees for them. Garces was serious and looked around to make sure they were not within hearing range of anyone. “Rick, let me get to the point. Needless to say, this is of extreme secrecy, but because of the circumstances, you need to be aware of it.”

  “Yes, of course, tell me,” replied Ramirez.

  “We are about to undertake an operation that will eliminate all of the council members here in Cuba and in the United States,” he said, in a very somber tone.

  “All of them?” Ramirez asked, in a low and concerned voice.

  “Sí,” he said, softly, but emphatically.

  “That’s twenty-one people, if you include Julia,” said Ramirez.

  “Sí,” he said. “We think George Bush is going to win the elections this coming Novemb
er. It is likely that Bush will be more amenable to recognizing the council both here and in the U.S. as legitimate bodies. So, in an effort to avert such a potential problem, we feel the elimination of all governing members of the council is a necessary thing. Al Gore, I don’t think, has the cojones to do anything against us.” He raised his eyebrows to alert Ramirez that someone was getting near.

  The maid stopped about ten feet away from them and waited for the General to wave her over.

  “Go ahead, Margarita, set the glasses of water and the cafecitos here on the table,” he said, pointing to a table between the two of them. “Gracias,” he said, watching the maid follow his instructions.

  They remained quiet while the maid finished her task.

  “Only a handful knows of this operation we are calling ‘Operation Clean Sweep’ under Captain Cruz who is in charge of the intelligence service. I only tell you because of the possibility of your proximity to Julia and maybe others on the council while you are in Miami,” he said.

  “Wow!” Ramirez exclaimed. “All twenty-one at one time?”

  “Did you ever see the movie The Godfather?” Garces asked.

  “All of them,” replied Ramirez. “Which one are you referring to?”

  “I don’t know which one,” he said. “The one where Don Corleone—now there’s a guy with big cojones—the one where they tried to kill him, and he in turn eliminated all of them, one by one in one continuous scene. Remember that?” He said.

  “Yes, I do,” responded Ramirez.

  “Okay, you got the picture,” he said. “Here is what I want you to do. I am going to call Captain Cruz and tell him to brief you tonight in Havana. Take the helicopter back to the Bay of Pigs and fly back in your plane to Havana. He will arrange a rendezvous with you. You can fly back to Miami later or stay overnight, whatever you prefer,” he said.

  “I prefer to fly back tonight if the meeting ends early enough,” replied Ramirez.

  “Perfect,” he said. “Now, I’ve arranged for you to go scuba diving right off the pier. I know you enjoy that.”