He grandly flung open the door to the apartment, the gate to his private castle. He was struck by the silence—Esmeralda did not deliver her usual greeting. She must have a special plan for their last day. He spoke in a low voice, “Dear, my cuchi, cuchi, where are you? I have the gift I promised you. Are you hiding? Shall I try to find you?”
Julio opened the door to the bedroom to find, sitting in his armchair, calmly smoking a cigarette, Captain Velasco of the National Police, the man who was in charge of security for the city.
“Welcome, Julito,” Velasco said. “I’ve being waiting for you. You’re running twenty minutes late. I was about to give up on you. I’m sorry I must report I’m not as pretty or as talented as Esmeralda. She’s not able to join you today, or tomorrow, or maybe for a long time. I’m sorry to bear bad news, but she’s mine.” His voice was firm and sarcastic. He crushed his cigarette on the floor with a highly polished brown shoe.
Julio was shaken. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here. This is my apartment.”
“I know, and you’ve been using it for activities and meetings against the government. Your so-called friend Esmeralda Martinez is an operative of the 26 of July Movement, which raises money for Fidel Castro’s rebel cause. Señorita Martinez is in my custody. I understand you have money for her. I don’t know yet if you are worth my time, but I’m soon going to find out,” he said with true menace in his voice. “There are ways you can help me, and if you don’t want to help, I invite you to come with me and sit in a prison cell next to your lovely friend. Oh, I forgot to tell you a little bit of news. Señorita Martinez was not going to Miami. She doesn’t have a passport. What are your plans now, Julito, my dear friend?”
Two plainclothesmen entered the room and blocked the door. Julio leaned against the small dresser for support. “Now, you know who I am. I’m not political. I like to have a good time, and that’s what I was having with this girl. I’ve never conspired against the president, whom I hold in great regard.” The captain did not seemed moved by this profession. “So what are my plans? Well, for one, I expect you, Captain, to understand the situation, shake hands, and leave. As a gentleman, I can assure you that everything that I have told you is true. Yes, I have a sum of money with me. Exactly one thousand dollars, it’s my money. It’s mine to use as I please, and indeed I was going to give it to Esmeralda so she could go to Miami. That part of your story is correct. This apartment is simply where I entertain. I’m sure you understand, because you’re a gentleman. So, Captain, please, I would like to consider this an unhappy misunderstanding. I would like to escort you and these officers to the front door.”
The captain calmly regarded the crushed cigarette. “I appreciate your sangfroid, but I’m not playing games. It’s better if you come with us. Maybe you’ll be able to remember a bit more.” He motioned to the plainclothesmen, who grabbed Julio by the elbow and marched him out of the apartment and into an unmarked car.
Captain Velasco’s station was in El Vedado, very close by. The officers walked him past the prison cells full of men and women. Esmeralda was in the last one, alone and sobbing. When she saw Julio being escorted past her cell, she covered her bruised and swollen face with her hands and refused to meet his eyes. They took Julio to a small office and relieved him of his black crocodile belt, wallet, money clip, watch, gold cigarette lighter, and cigarettes. They put everything in a big manila envelope, scribbled his name on the corner, and sealed it. They transferred him into a small cell with a light bulb and a small pot, but no windows, no chair, no table, and then closed the door.
Julio couldn’t keep track of the time. He started to worry about his children and wife. He felt assaulted and violated. He hadn’t participated in activities against the government, other than the usual bar jokes. He didn’t care about politics; he just wanted to make money and have sex with beautiful women. How could he explain this to Lourdes? He was hardly the only man in Havana to have something on the side, but truly, the way Velasco was handling him was uncalled for. He would make phone calls when he left. Velasco would be sorry!
After hours without anything happening, he banged on the door. “I have to make a phone call. I’m late for an important meeting. People, very important people, are waiting for me.” For fifteen minutes he kicked the door and banged it with his fists, but nothing happened. Exhausted, he crept to the corner of the room and, holding tight to his knees, panicked.
When the door opened six hours later, Julio was relieved. The stench in the room from his piss and excrement was offensive, he was terribly hungry, and the heat of the room and the lack of water had dehydrated him. Two men blocked the small door as two others grabbed his arms and took him to an office with a small desk and two steel chairs. They pushed him down on one.
“Hey, be careful. You know who I am!” Julio snapped, glaring defiantly at the two policemen. “I’m sure you’re aware you’re making a big mistake. I’m ready to leave. Please call Captain Velasco.”
Just then, he appeared at the door and sat in the chair opposite Julio. The clock on the wall of the office read nine p.m.
“Well, Julito, how do you feel being a traitor to your country and your class? What games do you like to play? Don’t you know that I know what’s going on? Do you think we’re stupid? We can do it two ways, my way or my way. I know you’ve given money before to this young lady. She told me. You thought you were very generous, but she thought you were cheap, very cheap, and what you gave her was more than what the best puta could charge you for sexual favors. No one has to pay so much for a puta, unless you are a maricón who wants to change. Are you a maricón? No, I don’t think so. I would have known. Now, tell me, I’ve not hurt you, not yet. Do you want to smoke a cigarette? Here, have one of mine. They’re fresh from the States, special delivery last night. I’ll light it for you.” Julio took the lit cigarette. “Now, you see, I’m your friend. I haven’t hurt you. I treat you better than you deserve.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Julio said.
The captain laughed, “Who do you think you are? You’re making all this money while I do all the dirty work to keep this society churning along. You, and the others like you, who play revolution as if it were a mental exercise, and think it’s chic to believe in existentialism, free love, and liberty for all, and all that garbage! You’ll just be eaten alive by the monster, if the monster succeeds. See what happened in Russia. You don’t believe me?”
“But, Captain, we’re so close to the United States.”
“Just wait. We’ll win, but you’re not helping. We know you and what you do.”
“I haven’t done a thing.”
The captain continued undisturbed, “Playing hero, giving money, thinking you have the ticket for a new world. No, it won’t happen. Not this time, my friend. We’re tired of holding your society together, taking care of the crap, while you and your friends make money and joke about us.”
Julio moved restlessly in his chair. He crossed and recrossed his legs as the captain added, “Now, let’s get this over with. Who else is with you? Who of your friends give money to the rebels, so they can kill innocent children? Who?”
Julio tried to get up and was pushed down by one of the agents. His face was red with anger. He had never thought that he would be subjected to this type of interrogation. “I don’t know. I’m not helping Castro. I was having a good time. She doesn’t mean anything to me. I don’t believe in a revolution or in Castro, or in the Segundo Frente. I work hard at what I do—all I do is manage money—I sell stocks and bonds. I don’t need to change things. I’m doing very well, and I don’t have anything to do with this Esmeralda, just sex.”
Velasco spat on the floor, threw his chair down and, without making any further eye contact with Julio, left the room. He signaled one of his subordinates who stood in front of Julio. He sat erect in the chair, smoking his cigarette. The agent took hold of the handkerchief pocket of Julio’s sport coat lying on the table and ripped it off, and threw
it on the dirty floor.
Julio was shaken. “Hey, what are you doing, this is my best jacket!”
The man looked at Julio, picked it up from the floor, and ripped off the right front pocket.
“Hey, what’s going on? Please, this jacket is custom-made!” Julio said as the agent forcefully took his mangled jacket, and began to rip it into strips in front of his eyes.
“No, no, no,” whispered Julio, but it was too late. His life would never be the same.
They returned him to the same cell and left him in total darkness. He felt his way to a corner and huddled against a cell wall, then slid against it to the bare floor. He shivered and sobbed, “Oh my God, my God!” He slept, exhausted by his impotence.
Five hours later, the door to the cell opened, and two men entered to haul Julio out. He was taken to Captain Velasco’s office, where the captain was sitting in front of his desk. It was early in the morning.
“I hope you had a chance to refresh your memory. I don’t play games here. I know you’re part of a big, influential group. Here, this is a piece of paper and a pencil. I need names, names of your friends who give money to the rebels.”
Julio froze. He couldn’t think of any names to write. In fact, he couldn’t think of anyone’s name at all.
The captain waited for ten minutes before he turned around to his henchmen. “Okay, let’s give him another chance to stew. Take him back to his suite. I’ll be back.”
A pair of men easily hoisted Julio, as if he were a sack of potatoes, and dumped him in the dark cell.
Around seven in the morning, Don Miguel received a call from the lieutenant who served as the minister’s military attaché. He had gone to bed rather late after having celebrated his engagement to Patricia with her family. The ringing of the phone startled him from his sleep, and he rushed to answer, worried about the kind of news that comes so early in the morning.
“Don Miguel? It’s Lieutenant Sampietro, the minister’s aide. The minister needs to speak with you urgently. This cannot be done on the phone. Be assured that it’s urgent. That’s all I can say.”
Don Miguel quickly dressed and drove directly to the ministry.
“Miguelito,” the minister began, “I have bad news for you. Captain Velasco has your son-in-law, Julio Consuengra, at his station. He was arrested yesterday afternoon. Don’t worry. He’s safe. Nothing has happened to him. But he was caught in very bad company.”
“What sort of company?” Don Miguel asked.
“A young girl, whom you may have met, because she was seen with Andres. Her name is Esmeralda Martinez. She is an operative for the 26 of July Movement. She went out with rich men to raise money for the hijos de putas who are fighting against us. Your son-in-law admitted that on several occasions he gave her money. She confirmed it. He was going to hand her a large amount of money when he was arrested in his garçonier. We can not condone his behavior.”
“Of course not,” Don Miguel said in a soft, assuring voice, trying to appear collected.
“I know. I vouched personally for you to the president,” the minister continued, “that you didn’t know of his involvement. If I thought you knew, you wouldn’t be here now. This young girl, Esmeralda, is extremely dangerous. We thought that the best way to handle this is to give Julio to you and have him leave the country until he comes back to his senses. We don’t want to file charges against him. It would be embarrassing for your daughter and your families. But what he did has serious repercussions. I want you to know that our president is aware of the situation and is unlikely to forget it. He’s the one who has asked me, because of your friendship with us, to handle it this way. He knows how hard you work with me.”
“Thank you,” Don Miguel said. “I appreciate the leniency.”
“Now, we need to arrange for his departure. Lieutenant Sampietro will escort you both to the airport. He can take an afternoon flight to Miami. We’re keeping the money he was going to give to her as evidence. It was a thousand dollars. We expect Julio to give you his word of honor that he won’t be involved further in antigovernment activities. One day he may return and everything may be forgotten. However, if he gets involved again, we’ll know, and his future treatment will be different and severe.”
“I understand,” Don Miguel said.
The minister continued, “We’re being generous with him only for your sake. Be assured that we’re not going to tolerate such behavior, and he’ll be watched very closely wherever he is, especially if he returns to Cuba. The young ones can’t play revolutionaries and think that they’ll not get caught. We have a very effective intelligence service. Do you agree?”
“You know what I think. I deliver on my promises,” he assured the minister. “I’m deeply sorry that this has happened. I’ll make certain that he understands. Please give the president my personal thanks for protecting my family. Be assured that this will not be forgotten. When can I see Julio?”
“Soon,” the minister replied, as he got up from his chair and the two briefly embraced. “You can pick him up at ten at Velasco’s station. My attaché will be there. Then you can take him to the airport. You’ll be escorted.” He clapped Don Miguel on the back. “They never learn, the young. She has to be a great fuck for people to risk so much. That’s the one good thing about being older. We don’t fall for such traps anymore.” The lieutenant escorted Don Miguel to the elevator door. “I’ll see you at ten o’clock at the station.”
Don Miguel called Mike at the office and asked him to go to Lourdes’ house. He waited for Mike in front of her door. When they knocked, Lourdes opened it, still in her robe. “Papi, Mike, what’s happened? You all look terrible! Is it about Julio?” She cried, “He’s dead! Oh my God, he’s dead, that’s why he didn’t come home last night. He had an accident. Please tell me it isn’t true!”
“He’s not dead or hurt, but something very serious has happened.” Don Miguel put one arm around his daughter and wiped her tears. “Come, let’s talk in your room.” While Mike waited in the foyer, her father took her into the bedroom and told her in a low voice, “Julio is okay—that is, he’s alive and well. But he’s in the custody of the Policia Nacional at Captain Velasco’s station.” He sat her on the bed. “I just talked to the minister. Julio made a mistake, but the government is being lenient and will allow him to leave the country today. He has to go into exile immediately.”
“Into exile?” she gasped. “Now? Right now? What happened!” she cried.
Don Miguel took Lourdes in his arms and explained as gently as he could that Julio had been accused of giving money to a dangerous revolutionary group, but assured her that the accusation was not true. Don Miguel told her that Julio was spared because of his connection to the minister and the president, but that they asked him to leave immediately. He said it was not clear when, and if, Julio could return again.
“Oh, Papi, oh, Papi!” she sobbed.
There was little time, so Don Miguel helped Lourdes up, told her she had to be strong, and had her collect Julio’s passport, pack a small suitcase with essential clothes, and a clean set for him to change into at the station.
“What am I going to do?” Lourdes asked. “My children are in school now.”
“I’m calling Adelaida to come over here, right away. Mike and I will pick up Julio at the station. Mike will call Julio’s parents. You shouldn’t go to the airport. I don’t want a scene, and you belong here with the children. I might be able to bring him here. I’m not sure. He’s alive and he’ll be safe in Miami. For now, take care of yourself and the children.” Don Miguel called in the maid and instructed her to remain with Lourdes until Adelaida arrived.
Mike helped Lourdes pack the bag. “Let’s go,” Don Miguel said, “we have work to do.” They didn’t speak. Don Miguel thought about Comillas, and how smart he was to leave when he did. Then a thought froze in his mind: He had met Patricia at La Roca with Comillas and Esmeralda. Could she be involved? And Mike? Was he involved in whatever this mess really
was? Don Miguel chased the suspicions from his mind. There was too much else to do right now.
Lieutenant Sampietro waited for them at the entrance of Velasco’s station and escorted them to his office, where Julio waited—stinking, unshaved, dirty, his hair matted, his customary cocky expression shattered. The captain briefly acknowledged Don Miguel and then looked at Julio and said, “You’re leaving against my wishes. I wouldn’t have let you go so easily. You’re damn lucky.” He made Lieutenant Sampietro sign the release papers. The captain collected them and told the lieutenant, “He’s all yours.”
Julio was too ashamed to talk. Don Miguel asked if Julio could change his clothes. The captain motioned to his private bathroom. Julio changed and came out, looking like a man who had a bad night on the town and smelling worse. The captain gave the lieutenant the sealed envelope containing Julio’s personal belongings. From it, Julio retrieved his watch and his alligator belt; then promptly lit a cigarette with his gold lighter. They left Velasco’s office and the lieutenant, Don Miguel, and Julio entered an unmarked police car. Mike followed in his car.
Julio smoked one cigarette after another. Don Miguel did not speak to him during the ride to the airport. When they arrived, they were showed into a small waiting room. Mike shook hands with Lieutenant Sampietro, and Don Miguel merely nodded. Escorted by the lieutenant, Julio walked slowly up the ladder to the Cubana Viscount’s door, and then turned around to watch the small crowd that was always present for a plane’s departure.
My Lost Cuba Page 31