Cuba blue

by Robert W. Walker

  “Both at once?” asked Arias, smiling.

  “I get the first dance, Papa!” said Angelica, snatching Arias away from Reyna, who gracefully acquiesced with only a glimmer of distaste that quickly faded.

  Gutierrez frowned at this and thought, Witch always has to be first. How has Reyna kept from killing her all these years?

  Alejandro added, “Alfonso and I will join you shortly, after a smoke. After all, we’re nearly brothers now, and we hardly know one another.”

  Arias looked pleased at the suggestion and with a daughter on each arm, he strolled off.

  As Alejandro guided Alfonso toward the balcony, he produced a cigar for Gutierrez, saying, “It’s true, we have not had the opportunity to get to know one another, Alfonso.”

  “My work keeps me pinned to that desk in Havana.”

  “My work, too, has kept me unusually busy lately.” Alejandro leaned over the balustrade and pointed to the lights of Santiago. “It looks like a fairy city with the lights and colors of Carnival, doesn’t it, ‘brother’?”

  “I like that you can call me brother, Alejandro. I’ve liked you since Reyna brought you into the family, but I also have it on good authority that you may have secret motives.”

  “Me? Secrets? Who tells such lies?”

  “I need no one to tell me that if Reyna bears children, you’re gold in the old man’s eyes.”

  Alejandro smiled wide. “Ahhh…so you have me then. Not many are as astute as you, Alfonso. It’s why I needed to talk to you in the first place, a warning my friend.”

  “Indeed…you know why I’ve been summoned here like a dog on a leash to be insulted by my wife and her father?”

  “It’s nothing to do with Arias. He’s not summoned you here. Be smart. It’s entirely Cavuto’s idea, dragging you here. Arias, Angelica, why they were as surprised to see you as you obviously were to see them.”

  “That Ruiz. I suspected something was not right.”

  “If you’re not careful, Alfonso, he’ll dangle you over a fire to be toasted…like a marshmallow on a stick.”

  “What do you know of Cavuto’s plans here in Santiago?” Alfonso warmed to the direction this was taking him.

  “I know only that he’s made dangerous mistakes that’ve upset and annoyed Arias.”

  “Are you saying that there is a way for me to get on Humberto’s good side after all?”

  “Precisely, and the key is Ruiz.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “Stay close to Ruiz, and report all of his movements back to me. Together, we will tell Arias what a lying scoundrel Cavuto really is.”

  “And how does that benefit me?”

  “Arias rewards those who watch his back, and I’ll make certain your part in this is clear to him.”

  “I do despise Cavuto.”

  “Speak of the devil, look.” Alejandro pointed with his cigar as Cavuto’s figure emerged from the crowd and came toward them.

  “Ahhh…Alfonso, Alejandro! Here you are!” Cavuto extended another drink to Alfonso. “Time to join the party inside, my friends. Your wife is dancing with another man.” Even Ruiz’s laugh sounded disingenuous now.

  Alfonso next heard the wave of clapping and cheering, knowing his wife and Arias had regaled the crowd, finishing their dance with a flourish. As always, Angelica- the exhibitionist — must show off her look-but-don’t-touch body to gain the approval she’d never gotten from her father. But for now, Alfonso knew he must continue playing the dutiful husband, and to remain close while concentrating on Cavuto and his game. The idea of finally pleasing the old man was irresistible.

  Alfonso allowed himself to be led by Cavuto toward the banquet hall, Alejandro following, just behind them, a shadow overhearing Ruiz say, “You know, Alfonso, we’ve never really had an opportunity to truly get to know one another. Let me freshen your drink.”

  Glancing over his shoulder at Alejandro, Alfonso saw the younger man give him a thumbs up. So why do I feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter, and which of these men-Ruiz, Valdes, or Arias is my butcher?

  Same time at a bar near the hotel Casa Grande

  “So why are Cavuto Ruiz and Alfonso Gutierrez here in Santiago if they’re not shadowing us from Havana?” Luis Estrada asked Alejandro Valdes.

  “For the same reason I’m here.”

  “Which is?”

  “Ordered to come to the Forteleza de la Montana.”

  “Why?” pressed Luis.

  “We’re to be congratulated…and given our just rewards.”

  “You sound your usual skeptical self.”

  “Suspicion is a way of life when handling vipers. We’ve all been kept in the dark about who gets a thumbs up, who gets it down.”

  “And I’ve heard the Forteleza can mean way, way down.”

  “Two fathoms below the lowest rung of Hell.”

  “I can’t imagine the tightrope you walk…weaving among Arias, the SP, Cavuto, and us.”

  “More complicated since Cavuto’s men killed those doctors. Cavuto’s pissed because Arias sent me to clean up the mess…again. Since you netted ’em last week, Humberto’s paranoia is at an all-time high and rightly so. Cavuto’s an ass. He still thinks he blew up the Sanabela. I haven’t told him otherwise.”

  “Then so far as Humberto knows, Cavuto blew us to Africa along with my boat?”

  “Correct. When I told him it was not Latoya but an American security guard aboard, the look of pure malice on his face when he ordered me to hunt down Cavuto and stop him at any cost was stunning.”

  “But you obviously failed. Cavuto’s here, and the American is dead of his wounds, sustained at the marina, along with Quiana Aguilera,” lied Luis.

  “Yeah, which places me in trouble with Humberto. Once again, I’m somehow responsible for Ruiz’s fuckups.”

  “The price you pay for being the heir apparent.”

  “On the other hand, when they find out you’re not dead…”

  “And they discover the Sanabela’s in the harbor…”

  Luis stopped to sip his drink, then added, “Every freedom-loving Cuban would celebrate the end of Cavuto Ruiz. How much danger are you really in, Ali?”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt certain Arias had found me out, how often I felt on my way to a black SP cell to rot. This time…the worst.”

  “If you need an out, we can always hide you in the hills.”

  “And do what, Luis? Do I look like a basket-weaving coffee bean collector?”

  Luis smiled. “You could do worse, my friend. You could be a fisherman in Cuban waters.

  “Not the sort of life that Reyna’s accustomed to.”

  “If she loves you-”

  Luis stopped at Alejandro upraised hand.

  “Don’t’ go there, Luis.”

  “If there’s love, I tell you, nothing else matters.”

  “If you dance along a high-wire like I do, everything matters. I can’t look away now, not until I have it all in my grasp, including Reyna.”

  “Still, if she loves you, where you live, or how you live won’t matter. If it’s become too dangerous, tell me now, so I can make arrangements. Rita’s people can get you both safely out of Cuba.”

  Later same night at Rita’s home

  Around the simple meal at Rita’s, the investigators mulled over what they’d learned since arriving in Santiago. Luis remained adamant, saying, “I can’t reveal sources, but believe me, Humberto Arias is not only guilty of the crimes in Havana but has come to Santiago to privately celebrate your deaths as well. The bastard,” finished Luis when a slightly built, hawk-featured young man with nervous mannerisms entered. He gave a quick and furtive glance toward Qui and JZ before Rita hustled him into a back room and closed the door, where she engaged him in a conversation marked by hushed tones.

  Qui saw that the man wore the traditional garb of a service person with a lapel nameplate. From the ruffled white shirt, black bowtie, and the faint scent of alcohol
haloing the visitor, Qui made an unconscious assumption-bartender from one of the many watering holes in Santiago.

  Luis, as though to draw attention from Rita’s late night visitor, said, “Pasqual, I hear that your brother, Alejandro, is in town. Up at the Forteleza.”

  “I’d like to see him, but not there. I’d never get past front desk security.”

  “He could send for you, if he were any kind of brother.”

  “No…he knows I’d never set foot in that place, not even for him. You lie with dogs, you wake with fleas.”

  As they began clearing the table, Qui tried to imagine Father Pasqual scratching at flea bites under his robes. “You wash, I’ll dry,” she bargained with JZ. “Work for our dinner.”

  They’d gotten into a friendly water fight when Rita’s door opened, and the young stranger slinked out into the hot humid Santiago night to disappear within a passing group of Carnival revelers.

  “What was that all about, Rita?” asked Pasqual. “Wasn’t that Tio? Why didn’t he say hello?”

  “Shhh…no names.” She indicated Qui and JZ. “But your brother…like Luis said is here in the city.”

  “Yes, so Luis said, but as I’ve told him, I won’t go behind the Forteleza walls to see Alejandro.”

  “Tio came straight from the fort, but he has it on good authority that your brother, and his intended, are staying in the city-at the Casa Grande.”

  “How do you know all this, and what intended?”

  “This is good news!” exclaimed Luis. “Now you can see your brother, after all! And you may want to introduce him to JZ and Qui. Take them along, absolutely.”

  “Luis is right, Gabriel,” agreed Rita as she crossed the room and shooed JZ and Qui from finishing the dishes, taking charge of her kitchen. “Alejandro hates Arias more than all of us combined.”

  “Hates him enough to ruin others’ lives as well as his own,” muttered Pasqual, looking disquieted. “Including, no doubt, this fiancee you speak of. No one’ pain is as great as his…or so he thinks.”

  “Tio tells me the fiancee is in fact Arias’s daughter.”

  “A marriage of convenience, if ever-” began Luis who cut himself short when Rita shot him a look and shook her head as if to warn him off.

  “His convenience…I’m sure,” replied Pasqual. “Do you think he will talk to Detective Aguilera?”

  “It’s time they met,” said Rita, Luis nodding his assent.

  “And is it Alejandro you’ve been protecting as your source?” Pasqual asked Luis.

  “Sworn to secrecy,” he said putting a finger to his lips, a twinkle in his eyes.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Qui noticed the look of determination pass over Father Pasqual’s features, and that in one palm he twiddled a pair of the metal soldiers from his youth.

  At the same time, JZ saw a corresponding look of frustration on Luis’s face. The two men, Luis and Gabriel, continued with their games of secrecy, but the veneer of cloak and dagger had grown thin and irksome, when Gabriel brought his fist down on the table and announced, “That’s it! Tomorrow morning! I’ll go see him, talk to him. It’s no coincidence that he’s in the city at the same time as Arias. He knows something.”

  “Remember…your brother’s not responsible for the deaths of those people in Havana, Gabriel,” said Luis. “I know this in my bones.”

  “Can you be sure? Can any of us be sure? Alejandro is reckless, his heart filled with a venom you cannot conceive of.”

  “All true,” said Rita, “but his sins pale beside Arias’s, and I know in my heart that Alejandro’d never murder innocent people. He can’t have had a hand in this Havana business.”

  Father Pasqual stood and made his way to the door. Before leaving, he said with clenched teeth, “I’ll hear it from his own lips before I believe it.”

  36

  The following morning

  Alejandro stared from a top-floor window of the Casa Grande, sad that he’d had to part with Reyna, having just put her in a cab for the flight back to Havana.

  “We’ve no choice; it’s your father’s orders,” he’d explained. “Same goes for your sister.”

  Reyna protested and pleaded and cried, but she eventually she calmed down and left. Should Alejandro’s plans go awry, it was good that Reyna would be safe back in Havana.

  Alejandro lit a cigarette, the smoke curling about him where he stood above the street, taking note of the passing life below, paying heed to nothing in particular and trying to remain calm instead of succumbing to his worries about Arias’s plan for him. Most certainly, Arias would be headhunting by day’s end after allowing him and Ruiz to sweat out yet another night. Part of Alejandro’s mind mulled over the chess pieces in play on the now crowded board, when suddenly, he saw a woman climb from a vehicle outside the hotel entrance, a woman with a striking resemblance to Qui Aguilera. When a tall man emerged and stood beside her, he recognized him as well. “Damn, they survived after all.”

  After the shock washed over him, Alejandro realized their car was the same grimy little Russian Lada he’d given his brother Pasqual years ago. To cap it all, his brother, Pasqual now exited the vehicle. Alejandro felt a mix of anger at himself for having believed Luis, that Cavuto had actually killed the tenacious Qui Aguilera and the American, Zayas.

  This changed everything. If Arias learned of this at the wrong moment, the game could turn in Cavuto’s favor-that he’d not in fact completed his mission after all-and hadn’t killed a third American. Alejandro’s mind turned over this new revelation, examining it from every angle in hopes of gauging Arias’s reaction to this juicy bit of information. “How best to exploit it,” he muttered aloud, while his eyes registered the direction taken by the ghosts of the Sanabela accompanying his brother.

  They’re coming here…coming to see me, he realized with a start. “That damned Estrada’s broken our deal.”

  Of course, Aguilera was here in Santiago, as he’d hoped, guided by the heinous lock, a recurring feature in his nightmares. Detective Aguilera had likely already traced the ancient lock to Arias, the butcher.

  Again, he felt glad that he’d gotten Reyna out over her plea to remain-a good decision. Just as dealing with Estrada proved a good decision, regardless of the man’s reputation. He’d counted on Luis shooting off his mouth to Pasqual-wanted Pasqual to come to him. He wanted to tell Pasqual of his love for Reyna, tell him that soon all of his plans for happiness would come true, and that the heart that Pasqual so worried over these past years, now finally burned with a passion other than hatred. But the wily old Estrada had claimed he alone had survived the destruction of the Sanabela-wanting, no doubt, to protect his men, and to cover the footprints of the two detectives on Santiago soil.

  He pictured Luis’s toothy grin. Lying old salty dog.

  Still, all things considered, his original plan to crush Arias appeared back on track. To lure and entrap the butcher of El Cobre had been no easy task. In fact, it’d been so ambitious a goal for a single man that at first, he’d shared it with Rita in an effort to get backing from the anti-Castro faction populating Santiago. They took months considering his proposal, but in the end, it’d become his personal operation, a vendetta, which if successful, meant their clandestine organization would take credit for Arias’s downfall. This he’d be content with, but if it failed, he alone would pay the price-most certainly torture followed by an execution, and his deeds announced as the excesses of a madman.

  He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He’d waited so long for victory, and while he could not yet taste its sweetness, he could certainly inhale its delicious aroma. A scent that had long eluded him. Distracted by such ruminations, he’d lost sight of the group below when a knock at his door startled him back to the present.

  Heart still thumping, he shouted more loudly than intended. “Who is it?”

  “Your brother. Open up, AliBaba!”

  Gabriel’s childhood nickname for him for his knack of ou
twitting the kitchen staff for treats, did nothing to dispel his unexpected anxiety. Opening the door, a relieved Alejandro saw that only Pasqual stood in the hallway. Not waiting for an invitation, Pasqual entered, looking about at the extravagant furnishings. “Beautiful job they’ve done restoring the old place.”

  “You didn’t come here to talk about interior decorating. What is it, Gabriel?”

  “Can’t a brother say hello without a reason?”

  “I know you better than that. Between us, there’s always a reason. Come clean, little brother.”

  Gabriel held out a closed fist saying, “I’ve brought you something.”

  “I’ve already eaten.”

  “It’s not food for the stomach but the heart.”

  Intrigued, Alejandro extended a trusting hand, palm up.

  Gabriel opened his fist and several toy soldiers fell into Alejandro’s palm. “Recognize these, my brother?”

  “My God…our army.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you find them?”

  “Where I dropped them. In the cave.”

  “The cave? Don’t tell me you led the American and the PNR detective to the cave.”

  “So you know they’re here, eh?” Pasqual smiled at him. “There was no stopping them.”

  “So, they really are onto our story.” He said this with a sense of relief and a faraway look in his eye. “How much do they know?”

  “The lock opened Father Cevalos memories, and his mouth-as I suspect you knew it would.”

  “Given the trail I peppered for them to follow, they’ve got to know the truth.”

  “Which truth is that, Alejandro? El Cobre or today?”

  “Both…all of it. From our mother’s death to the deaths of the doctors.”

  “Tell me…where’d you find the lock?”

  “I’ve earned Arias’s confidence along with a set of keys to his Havana warehouse.”

  “How did you know Luis Estrada would dredge up the bodies?”

  “It was a gamble. I knew the fishing lanes.”

  “The moment I saw that damned relic, I sensed your hand in this.” Pasqual paused and stared. “Did your hatred and vengeance cause the deaths of those doctors found in Havana waters?”