"Ortiz?" Paul asked.
"Yes. She's so excited ... "
"Did you tell her about Lupita?" Connie asked.
"No. I didn't get a chance to do much except listen. She's really wound up. I've never seen her like this." Liz grimaced and shook her head.
"Where are they going?" Paul asked. "I could -- "
"No, Paul," Connie said. "She's a grown woman."
"And she doesn't know where he's taking her, anyway," Liz said. "Look, she may be dazed and excited, but she's still Dani. She can take care of herself."
Paul looked dubious. "You're at least going to wait up for her, aren't you? I mean, this Lupita Vidal thing ... it doesn't sound right."
"I may," Liz said, "but I'm not going to let her know. She's already said she'll take the guest cabin so she won't disturb me when she gets back."
"Let us know if you get worried," Connie said. "We can at least all worry together."
"Thanks. Now I'm really not looking forward to telling her about Lupita." Liz took a long drink of rum punch. "Or maybe he'll make her angry and Lupita won't matter. This is Dani we're talking about, after all. It wouldn't take much of a misstep on his part. For once, maybe her thin skin and hair-trigger temper will be assets."
****
Chapter 7
Ortiz heard himself groaning through his clenched teeth, his hands tangled in her hair. He was fighting for control, right on the edge of losing it. He'd been so close several times, and each time, she'd let him down, the bitch. He was sure he was going to make it this time, though. He'd been careful to hide his arousal from her this time. Just when he was almost there, she stopped cold and pulled his hands from her hair, digging her nails into his wrists. She slithered up and put her head on the pillow next to him, laughing.
"No," he moaned. "Don't stop, please?"
"You want more?" she murmured in his ear. "You like what I was doing?"
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked.
"Because I can. And I like it, this tormenting you. It's fun to make you beg."
"I didn't think we were going to -- ," Ortiz said.
"No, I know you didn't. But I did. I was just waiting for the right time."
"But I -- "
"After you failed to get in Berger's pants, I wanted to know if you had what it took, pinguera. You stupid little gigolo, don't you understand what you are hired to do?"
"My orders were to make her fall in love with me. There are different ways of doing that. I have to charm her, first. She's not some cheap puta; I know what I'm doing."
Moving with blinding speed, she brought her left knee up into his hip with such force that his head cracked against the headboard. "You don't call me puta, you little fairy. Or I'll knee you somewhere else." She laughed as he rubbed his head. "I'll fix you so you don't even want a woman. You got that?"
When he didn't answer, she dug the tip of her left index finger into the small hollow below his left ear until he screamed for relief, writhing in pain but trapped in her grasp.
"Answer me, comepinga."
"Yes. No. I mean, I never meant that you were a slut. I -- "
"Enough. You are moving too slowly with Berger."
"You want me to take her against her will?"
"I don't care whether you take her or not. You need to get closer to her and her friends. You are to become part of her group, so none of them will think it is strange if you are at that place on Star Island, with her or without her. Time is passing. We need you on the inside. Tell her you want to meet her family; tell her anything. Make love to her, if that's what she wants. Get down on the floor and lick her feet. I don't care. You do whatever it takes; you understand?"
"Yes, but what if she wants to meet my family? She's already asking about them. Then what?"
"You play on her sympathy, estúpido. Your father is dead, and your only sister is in Martinique with your poor, ill mother. Make her feel sorry for you. Bring out her maternal instincts; be a poor, lonely little boy, so she will take you home."
"Okay, okay. I got it, Lupita. Now, can we finish what -- "
She kneed him again. "I only like real men, págaro." With that, she sat up and picked her clothes off the floor, dressing as he lay there, clutching himself and moaning.
****
"Were you surprised to hear from me?"
Phillip sat down; he studied the man across the table for a few seconds. A retired Brigadier General, Rick Olsen was at least 15 years older than Phillip, but he didn't look it. "A bit surprised, yes."
Olsen grinned. "Have you had breakfast?"
"Yes. I'm still an early riser."
"Good. Let's walk and talk." Olsen left a $20 bill on the table next to the check for his breakfast and stood up.
Phillip rose and followed his old boss out of the diner. They were on Collins Avenue in South Beach. Olsen turned a corner and walked a block further inland, turning again on Collins Court, which paralleled Collins Avenue. In contrast to Collins Avenue, it was deserted.
"This should do," Olsen said. He continued in his flat, Texas drawl. "You've stirred up some kind of trouble, boy."
"Sir?" Phillip asked.
"No need to call me 'sir.' We've both put that behind us. At least, I thought I had, until the Director called. You're not still active are you? I mean in that business you were in with J.-P. I know you quit the other, years ago, when I did."
"That's right," Phillip said. "What did the Director want?"
"He's put us both back on active status until this Martínez business is settled. I'm reporting to him and you're reporting to me. But only the three of us know that."
"I see. He must have guessed that Martínez had someone inside, then."
"No guesswork involved. That young fellow that met you the other morning after you called the emergency number?"
"Right. What about him?"
"He's dead. Cops were called by one of his neighbors; they complained about a disturbance in his apartment. They found him with a bullet in the back of his head and a briefcase full of documents that could cause no end of problems."
"Problems for whom?" Phillip asked.
"The FBI, or maybe DHS, or the CIA. Whoever the hell he was nominally working for."
"What kind of problems?"
"Well, that would depend on who got their hands on the documents. Looks like the kid was working both sides; there's some strong evidence that he was a DGI agent."
"A double agent, maybe," Phillip said.
"At the very least," Olsen said. "Or triple, or ... who can tell?"
"That's why we're back in the game?" Phillip asked.
"Yes, exactly. There's a grade-A witch hunt brewing, and the Director doesn't want to lose the Martínez contact. Speaking of which, have you heard from him?"
"Not since I called in yesterday."
"You called in yesterday?"
"After I met with Martínez."
"There's no record of that."
"Surprise, surprise," Phillip said. "They sent me to ask Martínez who he was working with before they made any decisions."
"And?"
"And Martínez is no fool. He knew I'd met with the young guy, and he said they'd encountered him before. He wouldn't give me any names -- neither people, nor organizations."
"So how did you leave it with him, then?"
"He said he was going to send a signal to the young man's superiors that would prove his bona fides. He also said that I would probably be working with someone much higher in the organization."
"Prescient, wasn't he?"
"Yes. I don't know about you and the Director, but I think he's serious about this."
"I agree. But it would still be nice to know what's driving him."
"You got the first intel that I forwarded?" Phillip asked.
"About wanting to forestall the chaos that would be precipitated by the death of Raul Castro?"
"Yes, that's it."
"That's plausible enough," Olsen said. "But you see the problem, I'm sur
e."
"I see several opportunities for this to blow up in our faces," Phillip said.
"What do you think we should do?"
"We who?"
Olsen chuckled. "You and me."
"Pass along what Martínez wants to the Director," Phillip said.
"And?"
"And follow legally binding orders."
Olsen smiled. "Yes. And what should those orders be?"
"You're asking for an opinion that I'd have to form without policy information that's above my pay grade."
"Mine, too," Olsen said. "How do you contact Martínez?"
"Don't call us, we'll call you," Phillip said.
"You can reach me using this; the number's programmed." Olsen handed Phillip what looked like an ordinary iPhone. "But don't use it to call anywhere else. That could be fatal. I'm told it could blow your head off if you dial a number besides mine."
"Got it," Phillip said.
"The technology's changed a lot since the last time we did this," Olsen said.
"It certainly has," Phillip said.
"You're here with some of your friends to celebrate Mario Espinosa's 75th birthday, I hear."
"Yes, that's right."
"Time flies. I hear that you're married, too. Your wife here?"
"Not yet. She's catching a ride with Sharktooth and his wife. They'll be here before the big day."
"Sharktooth." Olsen grinned and shook his head. "I wish I could see everybody."
"You'd be welcome, Rick."
"I know. But given our situation, it wouldn't be a good idea. Don't even mention me."
"All right. It's nice to be working with you again, anyway."
"It's always a pleasure, Phillip. Glad you're well."
"And you, sir. I'll be in touch as soon as I hear from Martínez."
Olsen nodded. "I'll turn off here. You keep going."
****
"I didn't wake you, did I? When I came aboard last night?" Dani filled a mug with coffee and sat down across the saloon table from Liz.
Liz shook her head. "I didn't hear a sound. You were very quiet. Was it late?"
"Not too late. I'd say it was maybe one, one-thirty."
"Did you have a nice evening?" Liz asked.
"Oh, I really did, Liz. He's such a gentleman."
Liz took in the dreamy tone of voice and the faraway look on her friend's face. She tried to find the courage to tell Dani about Ortiz's deception, but before she spoke, Dani went on.
"We had a fabulous dinner at this Thai place in South Beach, and we hit a couple of clubs afterward, just to see what was going on. Everybody knows David; he's really popular. At first, I thought it must be because he tipped well, but it wasn't just the help. The other patrons all spoke to him, too."
"How did he react to them?" Liz asked.
"He was pleasant to everybody, asking about their business, or their family. You know. He had a little something to make each one of them feel special. And they were all so welcoming when he introduced me. I can't ever remember a more pleasant evening."
"But you didn't go back to his place?" Liz asked.
"No." Dani frowned. "I told him I'd really like to see where he lived. You don't think that was too forward of me, do you? I mean it seemed okay at the time. He and some of the others were talking about neighborhoods, and it just kind of slipped out. I probably blushed, but I think it was dark enough so nobody noticed."
"I'm sure it was fine in that context," Liz said. "How did he react?"
"Oh, he said something like, 'Sure. You'll like it, I hope,' and moved the conversation along to something else about new condos in South Miami, I think. He's in the real estate business."
"I see. How about later? When the two of you were alone?"
"What about it?" Dani asked.
"Did he mention taking you to his place?"
"Well, sort of. He was talking about how well I fit in with his friends, and how much he enjoyed the evening. But then he said he wanted to go slowly with me; he's just getting over a breakup, and he doesn't want to get too deep into a relationship until we know one another better. I thought that was good, the way he said it. I told him I understood, and I appreciated his openness. Was that okay?"
"Perfect," Liz said.
"One time he excused himself for a few minutes and one of the other women at the table told me that she was glad to see him spending time with somebody like me, for a change. 'You're good for him,' she said. 'You bring out the best in him, not like the other women he's dated.'"
"That was a nice thing for her to say," Liz said. "Do you know how she came to know him?"
Dani shook her head. "She didn't say. But I don't think she was somebody he'd ... you know, dated, or anything."
"Probably not," Liz said, "but you can never tell about people and their exes."
"Oh, I really didn't get that kind of feeling from watching the two of them. She was there with her husband, too."
"Did anybody ask about his mother?"
"Huh?" Dani asked, frowning. "His mother?"
"Her stroke? I thought if these were friends, at least some of them might have asked about her health."
"No, it didn't come up. But I don't know that any of them were that kind of friends," Dani shook her head.
"Then how about his sister?" Liz asked.
Dani looked puzzled. "She's in Martinique, remember? We didn't see her."
"Did anybody mention her?"
"No. Why?"
"I thought maybe she hung around with him and his friends; she looked to be about his age, from what we saw the other night."
"No. No mention of her."
"Dani," Liz said, "I have to tell you something, and there's no way I can sugar coat it."
"You think I blew it?"
"No. It's nothing you did. It's -- "
"You don't like him! Because he's Cuban?"
"No. It's nothing to do with liking him. It's about this Lupita."
"His sister?" Dani asked, perplexed. "What's she got to do with me and David?"
"I don't know the answer to that, but there are some things you need to know. You're like my sister, and this isn't easy. Please, just hear me out, okay?"
Dani frowned, her deep blue eyes locked on Liz's. Several seconds passed, before she nodded and said, "Okay."
"Lupita was in a car in the parking lot at the yacht club yesterday while you and David were having lunch."
"No!" Dani blurted. "She couldn't have been. She -- "
Liz took a deep breath and held up her hand, palm toward Dani. When Dani paused, she said, "Please, Dani, let me finish."
Dani's face was flushed, but she nodded. "Go ahead."
"When I came back to the dinghy dock after I killed a few minutes to let you get settled, I noticed a woman in a parked car taking pictures of you and David with a telephoto lens." She paused, holding Dani's eye until she nodded for Liz to continue.
"I got the plate number and walked right by the side of the car on my way into the locker room. I got a good look at the woman, but I couldn't tell if she was the one he met on the beach."
Dani sighed, the tension fading from her features. She nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."
"You and David were the only people on the patio, so she had to be taking pictures of you. That worried me, so I sent Paul a text and asked him to run the license plate."
"And?" Dani asked, "Whose car was it?"
"Lupita Vidal is her name. She's got a lengthy record; she's not a nice woman."
"Did you check to see if this Vidal woman was married or single?"
"Single. Vidal is her maiden name, and she's an only child. Cuban parents, from up in Georgia."
"So, even if she's the one driving the car, she's not David's sister, then. And whoever it was could have borrowed the car. Still, why would she be taking pictures of us?"
"That's the question, but there's more. Paul had mug shots. The woman was Lupita Vidal; there's no doubt in my mind."
"But you sai
d you didn't think she was the one David met on the beach."
"I said I couldn't be sure, but think this through. Forget about you and David for a minute, okay?"
Dani nodded. "Okay."
"Remember the woman on the beach? Think about her hair."
Dani, eyes closed, said, "Curly, dark, down past her shoulders. Like Connie's hair, but curly instead of wavy."
Liz slid her cellphone across the table, the profile shot of Lupita Vidal on the screen. Dani studied it for a moment.
Looking up at Liz, she said, "It could be, but lots of women have hair like that, and David's sister is in Martinique."
"That would be a huge coincidence, don't you think?" Liz asked. "Two women with similar hair, both named Lupita, both hanging around David in the same 24-hour period."
Dani, her face red, her voice cracking, said, "What should I do, Liz? I'm ... "
"Take a deep breath, Dani. First, Lupita Vidal is an enforcer for a slum lord. Paul says she's viewed as dangerous by the MPD. She's also a semi-professional cage fighter, which is something I never heard of until Paul told me about it. Do you know about cage fighting?"
"Yes. Big deal. I'm not scared of her."
"No, I didn't think you would be, but forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes. Can you think of a way to ask David what's going on?"
"Yes. We're having lunch at the yacht club in a couple of hours. I'll just ask him outright. That's all. There's probably a good explanation."
"Maybe so," Liz said. "I hope so." She saw tears running down her friend's cheek and felt her own eyes overflow. She leaned across the table and gave Dani a hug, patting her on the shoulder. "It'll come right, somehow. It always does, and you've got all your friends and family close by to help you through, whatever happens."
"Thanks, Liz," Dani sobbed. She took several deep breaths and then sat up straight. "If he's leading me on for some reason, he's dead," she said, in a calm voice that gave Liz a chill.
****
Chapter 8
"One of the problems with a guy like Martínez is that he's beyond control," Maldonado said. "But then again, that's part of what makes him successful."
"I'm still struggling with this one, Willy," Cruz said. "He killed a CIA agent?"
"Or whatever kind of agent he was. Who knows? They don't carry badges; it's hard to tell who's who."
Bluewater Revolution: The Twelfth Novel in the Bluewater Thriller Series - Mystery and Adventure in Florida, Cuba, and the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 12) Page 6