Havana was in full celebration when they arrived. People cheered as their small convoy with 26th of July Movement flags entered the city and made its way down the Malecon, the broad esplanade and seawall running along the edge of Havana Harbor.
Pilar hung out of the back of the truck and took in the sights, sounds, and smells of Havana while Consuela tended to the baby. There were red carnations strewn along the road side. The colors of buildings were magical, like those in a children’s picture book. She was reminded of the wonderful hotels on Miami Beach, though there was something different about these buildings. The colors were more aged, the greens less lime-colored, and the oranges closer to the color of the sun when it was setting than rising. And the cars! They were everywhere, weaving in and out of each other like something in a staged ballet.
They reached their destination, a five-story tan apartment building in the stylish Vedado district. Standing in front of the entrance were rebels dressed in green fatigues carrying weapons. Several shiny cars were parked in front of the building.
Cienfuegos had arranged to rent a spacious two-bedroom apartment for Consuela and Pilar. Their unit was on the top floor of one of the nicest buildings in the neighborhood. Its best feature was that it was across the street from the posh Hotel Nacional. The terrace overlooked the Nacional’s pool and had a view of the Havana Harbor in the distance.
Pilar couldn’t believe the accommodations. The apartment looked like something out of a French magazine. The rooms were elegantly decorated with antiques and furniture covered in silk. The master bedroom had a separate area for a crib and rocking chair for Roberto Miguel, who most people still believed was Camilo’s son.
Taking it all in, Pilar felt like royalty, and in a way, as the popularly declared mother of Cienfuegos’ son, she was.
Fidel Castro led his troops into Havana on January 7, the day after Pilar and Consuela arrived. A rally in which Castro would address the Cuban people was planned for the following day, and one of Cienfuegos’ aides stopped by their apartment to tell them that he would escort them to the rally.
Pilar and Consuela were driven through the crowds in a jeep. They were seated just off to the side of the stage along with other women and children of the leaders of the revolution. A chill ran through Pilar when she spotted two heroines of the revolution, Vilma Espín and Celia Sánchez, talking to one another in the row in front of her. There were two other women with them. Pilar wondered whether the younger woman was Aleida March, and if the older one might be Che’s mother, Celia de la Serna, since it was rumored that she had arrived from Argentina. When Pilar was able to catch the younger woman’s eyes, she emphatically mouthed the words, “Thanks for the clothes.” The big smile she received in return told Pilar what she wanted to know.
Fidel Castro bounded onto the stage to thundering applause. He was joined by Raúl Castro, Che, and Cienfuegos, who stood behind him. He spoke of the freedom that the Cuban people would have, of equality for all Cubans, and of a new direction for their country in the world.
Pilar had only seen Fidel in person on that one occasion before. She was impressed by his presence and his oratory skills, and she could see how he could move people to action with his words. But the moment Pilar enjoyed the most was when Castro stopped in the middle of his speech and turned to Cienfuegos, who was to his right.
“Am I doing all right, Camilo?” Castro asked into the microphone so the crowd could hear him.
The crowd roared its approval. Cienfuegos leaned in to the microphone and said, “You are doing fine, Fidel.”
Those words became one of the catch phrases of the revolution.
As Castro put together the government, Cienfuegos was named Chief of Staff of the new Cuban Army. His job was to maintain fighting forces to help defeat any anti-Castro uprisings.
Although Pilar and Consuela seldom saw Camilo, his aides shopped for them and brought them everything they needed. He had arranged special privileges for them at the Hotel Nacional, which the 26th of July Movement now controlled. Sometimes, Pilar and Consuela would walk across the street to the Nacional and sit at the pool. On other days, the two lovers would go for a romantic dinner on the terrace overlooking the Malecon.
But over the course of the next few months, there were unsettling rumors in the air that Castro was allying Cuba with the Soviet Union. Castro had visited the US four months after the revolution succeeded and declared that he was not a Communist. He had not been extended an official invitation to visit the US, and President Eisenhower declined to meet with him. Since Eisenhower chose to be off playing golf during the visit, Fidel met with Vice President Richard Nixon. They spent a difficult two hours together at the Capitol on a Sunday afternoon. The result of the trip was that if Castro had gone to the United States to build bridges, he must have been disappointed by the cold shoulder he received.
That August, Castro nationalized all US property in Cuba and threw out the American companies that had operated with impunity under Batista. In response, President Eisenhower cut off diplomatic relations with Cuba, and the US instituted an economic embargo. Castro used these acts to his advantage, declaring that Cuba was its own country and no longer an American colony.
Little by little over these months, Pilar became disillusioned with the revolution that had stolen her heart and her innocence. A flood of wealthy Cubans and many of its professionals and intellectuals had left the country in the weeks after Castro took power. They were worried that they would be in danger and that their property would be seized by the government, which turned out to be just what occurred.
During her time at the Nacional, Pilar had met several foreign dignitaries from European countries, and she had picked up bits of disturbing news from them. The Revolutionaries had arrested hundreds of people. The official word was that the new government wanted to prevent uprisings. However, more than one diplomat told her that the arrests were to suppress any opposition, even peaceful, to the government.
Pilar seldom saw Cienfuegos, but when he did come for dinner, they talked openly about the political happenings. Camilo, who was enjoying his immense popularity, dismissed Pilar’s concerns that Castro was asserting too much power and becoming too close to the Soviet Union. “Fidel says that he’s not a Communist—he just has their support,” Camilo said. “I believe him, and you can be certain that I will not become a Communist.”
Pilar asked him about all the people that Castro was imprisoning. Cienfuegos told her that he agreed with Castro’s actions. In fact, the next morning he was going to Camaguey to deal with a brewing problem there.
“Huber Matos, the Provence’s military chief, has been speaking out about Communists being placed in leadership positions in the government, and he quit his post in protest,” Cienfuegos said. “We are sending troops in case Matos tries to plan a revolt. I am going to command the operation.”
Pilar remembered Matos very clearly. He was the one who had brought Fidel the weapons and then watched Fidel childishly revel in firing them into the air. She had never forgotten the night that she showed Matos to his place to bed down and he openly wondered about Fidel’s stability. She had feared things would turn out bad for Matos, and now they were about to.
“Just please be careful, Camilo,” she said.
“My middle name,” he retorted.
Two days later, on October 28, 1959, Cienfuegos arrested Matos. His mission complete, he boarded a small Cessna 310 late that night to fly back to Havana from Camaguey. The plane never landed. It had vanished without a trace.
A week after the plane disappeared the Minister of Transportation paid a visit to Pilar and Consuela. He informed them that there were no clues as to what happened to the plane, and though the government would continue searching, hope was waning.
When the man left, Consuela and Pilar went out on the terrace.
“Pilar, you have to agree with me that the only two people in this country with the power to make an airplane disappear forever share the name Castro,
” she said. “We must consider that.”
“Knowing Huber Matos as I do, I have to wonder if Camilo wasn’t secretly investigating whether Huber was being framed. And, I also do know that Camilo, while loyal to Fidel, objected to the rewriting of the history of the Castro Revolution which is what Fidel and Raúl have been doing ‘for the benefit of Cuba,’” Pilar said. “Regardless of what Fidel claims, if he could do this to Camilo, everyone who fought in the revolution who doesn’t turn communist is in danger.”
Consuela looked Pilar in the eye. “You should try to get back to the US, my love,” she said. “For the sake of your son.”
“I am not leaving you behind,” Pilar said.
A funeral service was held for Camilo Cienfuegos the following week. The search for his plane had been abandoned, and he was presumed dead. Both Fidel and Raúl Castro attended the service, which was restricted to those in the revolution’s inner circle.
Che Guevara, who had named his son Camilo in honor of his comrade, would later write,
“Few men have succeeded in leaving on every action such a distinctive personal mark . . . he had the natural intelligence of the people who had chosen him out of thousands for a privileged position on account of the audacity of his blows, his tenacity, his intelligence, and unequalled devotion. Camilo practiced loyalty like a religion.”
Pilar couldn’t help but wonder if that was what had cost him his life.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Teddy Hernandez was sitting outside taking in the view on a breezy afternoon at his family estate in Key Biscayne, Florida, when Pilar called the day after Cienfuegos’ funeral. He thought of her often, but Teddy had not talked to her in more than two years. He had, however, followed her happenings through the chatter in the Cuban community in Miami.
He knew through his father, who had spent a year convincing the FBI that Pilar’s father was not a pro-Castro operator, that Pilar had given birth to the child of revolutionary commander Camilo Cienfuegos. He also knew that she had become something of a heroine to the revolution, though the details of what she did were somewhat sketchy. And he was aware that Cienfuegos had recently died in a suspicious plane crash.
Pilar’s voice crackled over the phone line. “Teddy, I need your help,” she said. “I don’t know who else to turn to. I need to leave Cuba. Besides me, I need passage for my child and our nanny. Can you somehow arrange passage?”
“I will send a boat for you,” he said. “I know people who can handle this sort of thing.”
“I knew you would,” Pilar said. “They must be careful. There are so many restrictions on Americans entering now. It could be dangerous.”
“The person I have in mind will not care about the risk,” he said. “It will take two or three days. Give me your address. I will send him to you when he arrives.”
Pilar gave Teddy the address of her apartment. “Thank you, Teddy, thank you,” she said. “I knew I could rely on you.”
“No thanks needed. It’s me after all,” he said.
The short conversation ended and Teddy hung up the phone. He had just the person for this mission: himself.
Teddy immediately called in the crew for the family’s yacht, the Isabella, of course so named because of the family’s connection to Queen Isabella of Spain. The Isabella was 120 feet and slept eight passengers comfortably, as well as four crew members.
The four crew members arrived within the hour and spent the afternoon preparing the boat for the trip to Havana. Teddy made some calls to his friends about the new restrictions. The easiest person to ask about such matters was his father, but he had decided not to tell him or his mother that he was making the trip. Teddy learned that only a few American boats were being stopped, but he was cautioned by everyone to be prepared with a cover story.
Teddy had a friend who owned the largest sporting goods store in Miami. He had learned from his friend that the Castro government was energetically building new athletic training facilities to showcase Cuban athletes on the international stage. Castro wanted his athletes to become yet another symbol of the success of the revolution. So Teddy called his friend and asked him to have boxes of high-priced sporting equipment delivered to the house, including boxing gear, and baseball gloves and bats.
Early the following morning, Teddy and his crew of four set out for Havana. The waters of the Florida Straits were unusually calm. Just after passing Key Largo, he passed a Coast Guard vessel heading toward Miami. The vessel seemed preoccupied with its destination and didn’t so much as acknowledge the Isabella.
The day cruise from Key Biscayne seemed to take forever, but when Cuba finally came into view, he replaced the American flag with a Jamaican flag. He had taken the journey at a reasonable speed so it would appear that he was not running from anything or anyone.
The Isabella cruised into Havana Harbor. Teddy began looking for the best place to put in. He spotted two moored boats one with a Haitian flag, the other with a Colombian flag that were unloading trunks. He eased the Isabella in next to them.
Minutes after his crew tied up, a Cuban harbor official made his way to the Isabella. Teddy bounded off the yacht, as the crew began unloading the boxes of athletic gear.
“My friend—sorry we are a day late,” Teddy began, as if he were in the middle of a conversation. “I know we have missed our delivery truck, but I will have another here before sunset. Delays, delays.”
The harbor official, who was carrying a clipboard and had a pistol clipped to his belt, seemed confused.
“We must have all of this at the sports complex by morning,” Teddy continued. “The Olympic managers need to take inventory before distributing the gear.”
Teddy handed the official a sheath of paperwork. The official took a look at the paperwork. Having no idea where to file it and no desire to find out before heading to the local bar when his shift ended in a half hour, the official returned the paperwork to Teddy.
“Have the boat out of here by 8:00 p.m.,” he said with authority.
“Yes, yes, we will,” Teddy said. “Fueled and on our way.” He turned to his crew. “Come on guys, pick up the pace.”
After the official had moved on, Teddy headed for Pilar’s apartment. He walked quickly along the Malecon and turned left at the Hotel Nacional. He arrived at Pilar’s address in less than fifteen minutes.
Two armed soldiers stopped him at the building’s entrance. He announced himself. The armed men conferred, and then one of them escorted him to the apartment.
Teddy rode the elevator to the fifth floor and knocked on Pilar’s door. Pilar opened the door. She was startled to see Teddy, but immediately dismissed the guard.
“Teddy? Teddy, I didn’t expect you to come here yourself!” she exclaimed.
The two embraced.
“I told you I had the perfect person for the job,” he said.
Pilar invited him in and introduced him to Consuela, who was feeding Roberto. Teddy and Consuela exchanged pleasantries.
“We don’t have much time, Pilar,” Teddy said. “Did you pack?”
Pilar pointed to the two suitcases by the door. “That’s all we need,” she said. Teddy took Pilar by the hand. “I have something I’d like to ask you, Pilar. Can we speak privately?”
Pilar led Teddy to the balcony. Teddy took in the dramatic harbor view. “I have a plan to fix the immigration situation for your family. My father says they may come at you, because of your deep connections to the Revolution. And even though your father’s situation is resolved, there is a real uneasiness in Miami toward Cuba right now.”
Pilar nodded.
“Will you marry me, Pilar?” Teddy asked. “I’ve thought about it and I think it’s the best solution. Your baby will have a father, it will make you a permanent US citizen and will offer your family added protection because of, well, my family. At least my name will be put to some good use.”
Pilar was taken aback. “Oh, Inez will love this,” she said, a tinge of sarcasm clearly in her voice. �
�Teddy, you know I love you—like a brother, and I certainly appreciate your concern for Roberto and the practical benefits to my immigration problem, but . . .”
Teddy interrupted, “It makes sense, Pilar. It’s the right thing to do for so many reasons. It will actually help me, too. You see, there’s something else you should know . . .”
Pilar interrupted, her expression serious. “Wait. I must tell you something, Teddy. Consuela is more than my nanny.” Pilar took a breath, measuring her words. “We are lovers.”
Teddy stood frozen, apparently in shock, staring at Pilar. A thin smile formed and then he burst out laughing.
“Why do you find that funny?” Pilar asked.
Teddy reached out and hugged Pilar. “Pilar, that is wonderful news!
“Do you understand what I just told you, Teddy? I like girls,” she pointed into the apartment, indicating Consuela. “That girl in particular.”
“Yes, yes, I understand perfectly,” Teddy said, looking up to heaven. “This is perfect, thank you, God.”
“What’s perfect? What are you talking about?”
Teddy bit his lower lip the way he always did before he told Pilar something really juicy. “It’s perfect because I like boys, Pilar. That’s the other reason I want to marry you, to get my mother off my back. Two birds, one stone! It’s perfect!”
Pilar lovingly hit him with the back of her hand. “I knew it!”
“You did not!” Teddy was turning red. “You did?”
“Well, I didn’t know it, but I suspected it. You’re right, Teddy, it’s perfect!”
Pilar kissed Teddy. “The answer is yes.” She yelled into the apartment, “Consuela! Guess what? Me and Teddy are getting married!”
Consuela appeared holding the baby, a perplexed and somewhat horrified sort of expression on her face, “Come again?”
The Girl from Guantanamo Page 16