Four Months in Cuba

by Luana Ehrlich

  Carlton said, “Alex Nelson just texted me. He’s about to enter the house.”

  Reina was enjoying herself all right, but all that changed the moment she looked across the room and saw Alex Nelson walk through the front door.

  One minute she was laughing, and the next minute she looked terrified.

  Her reaction puzzled me.

  I couldn’t come up with any reason for such a response.

  “Alex is on the premises.” I told Carlton.

  “Copy that.”

  Alex Nelson’s official title at the newly reopened American Embassy in Havana was Assistant U.S. Trade Liaison. It was a low-level bureaucratic position, and Nelson looked the part.

  He was wearing a light-colored summer-weight suit, an open-collar shirt, and scuffed loafers. He appeared grateful when someone put a drink in his hand.

  When we’d worked together several years ago, I’d found him to be a likable guy and very approachable. I wasn’t surprised when I’d heard the Agency had given him the Cuban assignment. To me, he looked more like a diplomat than an Agency man.

  When he was ushered over to the table where the other dignitaries were seated, he played the role of an American politician, enthusiastically shaking hands and joking with them as if they were all his constituents.

  I kept my eye on Reina as Nelson made his way down the table to where the ladies were seated. Moments before he got to her, she stood up and strolled over to where Gabriel was standing.

  Although Nelson didn’t seem fazed by her departure, I felt sure he’d noticed it.

  After Nelson finished greeting the ladies, he stepped away from the table, took a sip of his drink, and stared over at Reina and Gabriel.

  I thought he might be about to walk over and join them.

  Making contact with Gabriel was a no-no.

  Carlton had emphasized none of us were to have contact with Nelson, and Nelson was told he wasn’t supposed to have contact with any of us.

  Why was Nelson so interested in Reina Lorenzo? Was he really about to jeopardize the mission to talk to her?

  When Nelson turned around and headed back inside the house, the neurons inside my brain suddenly fired, and I realized I knew the answer to that question.

  * * * *

  I immediately touched the earpiece on my comms unit and cut off all communications with Carlton and the Ops Center.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Juliana.

  She looked surprised. “Where are you going?”

  “To ask Alex a question.”

  “Seriously?” she said. “Have you lost your mind?”

  She lowered her voice when a young couple sat down in front of us. “Douglas explicitly stated we weren’t supposed to have any contact with Alex. Has he changed his mind about that?”

  “No, I’m sure he hasn’t.”

  I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I’ll explain everything when I get back. In the meantime, think about the English translation of Mrs. Lorenzo’s first name, and what it might have to do with Alex Nelson.”

  Mrs. Lorenzo’s first name, Reina, could be translated into English as queen. What I intended to ask Nelson was whether Reina Lorenzo was the asset he had identified as Queen Bee. If so, I wanted to know if she had told him any more about an American being held at a farmhouse in El Cobre.

  I had to act quickly because I was sure Carlton would be tempted to call the whole operation off if I didn’t reconnect my comms unit soon. Unless Nelson gave me some new information, I didn’t want that to happen.

  Although I was certain everyone in RTM Center E was watching me when I got out of my seat and made my way across the patio, the moment I stepped inside the living room, I knew they wouldn’t be able to see me.

  Nelson was headed toward the bar, and I quickly made my way around the buffet table and up to the bar just as he got there. When he saw me, he turned and started to walk away.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  He looked at me. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive.”

  “In or out?” he asked, pointing toward the front door.

  “Definitely in.” I gestured down a hallway where I’d seen a guest bathroom. “This way.”

  We stood outside the bathroom as if we were waiting in line.

  I said, “Just so you know. This is an illegal contact. I didn’t get permission.”

  He smiled. “I’m not surprised. When we were—”

  “Sorry to cut you off, but I need to make this quick. When I saw you over there with Reina Lorenzo, I—”

  “You realized she was Queen Bee?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t put two and two together until just now.”

  “I’m lousy at math myself.”

  He laughed at his own joke.

  I said, “I need to know if she’s given you any additional information about El Cobre.”

  He shook his head. “She hasn’t been back to Havana since she gave me that intel, and I haven’t had any contact with her since then. I’m not even sure the American she told me was being held in the farmhouse is even your partner.”

  “Would you be surprised if I told you she looked terrified when you walked in here tonight?”

  He shook his head. “It isn’t me. She’s afraid of her husband. She probably thought Lorenzo had invited me here because he found out she was talking to someone from the American embassy.”

  “If we had more time, I’d like to know how you recruited her.”

  “Actually, it’s a short story, and it was entirely her doing. While she doesn’t seem to mind her husband being a drug lord, she’s worried about his ties to terrorists, particularly Hezbollah. She claims he’s involved with them in the worst way, and that’s why she contacted the embassy when she was in Havana last month.”

  “The worst way? What did she mean by that?”

  He shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me until I’d made arrangements for her to come to the U.S. on a permanent visa. As a good faith gesture, she told me about the American being held at El Cobre. She said she would be in touch with me sometime next month when she’s in Havana again.”

  “The Ops Center hasn’t been able to verify anything about the El Cobre location.”

  “Maybe the intel she gave me was bogus, and that’s why she’s avoiding me tonight. If I were you, I’d stick to the original plan.”

  “I agree. There’s nothing you’ve said that would change my mind about that.” I glanced down at my watch. “I better get going.”

  He grabbed my arm. “Keep this between the two of us.”

  “You don’t mind if I share this information with Juliana, do you?”

  “No, I’m good with that. By the way, I sure hope your partner’s down there.” He nodded his head in the direction of the guesthouse. “Douglas said he’d let me know if you needed a diversion.”

  I nodded. “He wants everything to go smoothly. Juliana and I are on the big screens tonight at the Ops Center.”

  He shook his head. “Believe me. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now, not with Senator Mitchell watching my every move.”

  With those encouraging words, I returned to my seat.

  After giving Juliana a whispered account of what Nelson had told me about Reina, I switched on my comms unit again.

  The moment I did, Gabriel walked on stage.

  Chapter 21

  When I turned the comms unit back on, I told Carlton my earpiece had malfunctioned, and that was the reason he’d temporarily lost my audio feed.

  I wasn’t sure he believed me.

  However, the moment he saw Gabriel take the stage, he dropped the subject and gave me a progress report on the drone, which he said was fifteen minutes out from Lorenzo’s compound.

  A few minutes later, the crowd reacted with enthusiasm when Gabriel announced he would be performing some of Arturo Sandoval’s best-known hits. By the time he was into his second number, everyone in the audience appeared to be mesmerized by his p
erformance.

  As Gabriel announced his third piece, Carlton said, “The UAV’s payload has been delivered. Be ready to move in five minutes.”

  “You ready?” I whispered to Juliana.

  She nodded.

  “In five,” I said.

  The Ops Center told us the chemical agent would be completely dissipated by the time we arrived at the guesthouse. Even so, I was tempted to remain up at the main house a few extra minutes just to make sure of that.

  About three minutes later, everyone in the audience stood to their feet in an enthusiastic show of appreciation for Gabriel’s musical talent, and I realized it was the perfect time for us to make our exit.

  I touched Juliana’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  After we went down a set of steps, we quickly made our way along a winding path over to the guesthouse.

  Although landscape lighting had been installed on each side of the walkway, once we got past the banana plants, Juliana and I took out our Agency phones and switched on our flashlights.

  When we were about twenty feet away from the guesthouse, we encountered the first guard. He was slumped over in the grass, sleeping like a baby.

  Literally, he was curled up in a fetal position sleeping like a baby.

  On the far side of the porch, we found the other guard in his own dreamland.

  Even though the Ops Center hadn’t seen any evidence Lorenzo had stationed guards inside the house, Juliana and I both removed our weapons before we walked up on the porch.

  Since the windows were boarded up, it was impossible for us to see inside the house, and although I listened at the door a moment, the only sound I heard was the sound of Gabriel’s trumpet drifting down from the patio.

  I glanced over at Juliana as I put my hand on the doorknob.

  She gave me a quick nod.

  I twisted the handle.

  The door was locked.

  * * * *

  Juliana stood guard while I removed a lock pick and worked on the tumblers. Seconds later, I heard them pop.

  Carlton, who hardly ever communicated with me while an operation was in progress, said, “Senator Mitchell is requesting video of the room where his son has been imprisoned. Have Juliana provide it for us in real time.”

  Carlton’s voice sounded strained, and I could only imagine what had gone on inside RTM Center E before Carlton had agreed to Senator Mitchell’s request.

  After acknowledging his transmission, I told Juliana, “Once we’ve cleared the rooms, video everything for the record.”

  Juliana nodded a couple of times, but she didn’t say anything. Her breathing sounded shallow, and I was hoping it was only adrenaline and not the effects of the sleeping agent.

  I turned the handle and swung open the door.

  We met no resistance.

  As soon as Juliana shut the door, I flipped the light switch on.

  We were standing in the living room of the guesthouse. Like the main house, the guesthouse had an open floor plan with a small kitchen and dining room off to my left.

  I was disappointed when I saw the place was immaculate.

  It didn’t look like anyone had been in residence at Lorenzo’s guesthouse recently.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  “Living room clear,” I told Carlton.

  “Copy.”

  Juliana and I quickly made our way down a short hallway to the bedrooms. There were two of them.

  The door to the first bedroom was wide open.

  There was no one inside; we moved on.

  “Bedroom one clear.”

  “Copy.”

  The door to the second bedroom was closed, and I listened a moment before turning the handle.

  Silence.

  Once I pushed the door open, Juliana followed me inside.

  I found the light switch and flipped it on.

  We both froze.

  * * * *

  There was no bed in bedroom number two. There was no furniture at all.

  Instead, the room was filled with ten canisters of sarin gas.

  The silver-gray metal canisters were standing upright inside a flimsy-looking wooden structure opened on all sides. It was easy to make out the Syrian markings stenciled on each shell, along with a serial number.

  “Can you believe this?” Juliana said, taking a step toward the canisters.

  I quickly grabbed her arm. “There could be a trip wire.”

  “What about a trip wire?” Carlton asked.

  “Video coming,” I said, nodding at Juliana.

  While she was entering the coordinates to transmit the video to the Ops Center, I made sure Lorenzo hadn’t installed some type of trip wire to alert the other guards patrolling the compound there’d been a security breach inside the guesthouse.

  Evidently, Lorenzo had a great deal of confidence in the security guards he’d stationed outside, because I found no such device around the canisters.

  Juliana held up her sat phone and nodded at me. “Transmitting now.”

  I told Carlton, “Juliana is transmitting from inside the second bedroom.”

  At first, all I heard from Carlton was a deep groan. Then, a few seconds later, he said, “We need those serial numbers.”

  Juliana walked over to the makeshift crate and sent RTM Center E close ups of each of the canisters.

  “Let’s see the other rooms now.”

  While Juliana was sending the Ops Center a video of the other rooms, I did a thorough search of the place; opening every drawer and cabinet, looking under the sofa cushions, examining inside the refrigerator, and lifting up the throw rugs.

  In the end, I couldn’t find any proof Mitchell had ever been in Lorenzo’s guesthouse.

  The shock of that revelation stunned me; I hadn’t imagined leaving the compound without him.

  Once Juliana had finished sending the Ops Center the pictures, I tried to prepare myself for Carlton’s inevitable question. Even so, the moment he asked it, I found myself unable to concentrate.

  “What’s your assessment?”

  “I think . . . ah . . . If we . . . ah . . .”

  “If you’re about to request permission to remove the canisters, that’s a negative.”

  Carlton’s ridiculous statement caused me to refocus, and I said, “No, that’s not what I was about to say. In fact, I think we should leave everything exactly as we found it. If we did anything else, it might endanger Ben’s life.”

  When Carlton said, “I’ll be offline a moment,” I figured he was consulting the suits in RTM Center E, asking them their opinion about how to proceed with Operation Peaceful Retrieval.

  When he came back on, he said, “Leave the site the way you found it and proceed with the POA as planned.”

  I repeated his instructions just to make sure I’d heard him correctly. “So you’re saying we should leave the guesthouse the way we found it and continue with the protocols?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Copy.”

  Juliana gave me a puzzled look. “We’re not staying in Santiago to find Ben? He wants us to head to the airport?”

  I nodded at her and then I said to Carlton, “In that case, should we take a taxi to Langley when we land at Dulles or will you be sending a driver to pick us up?”

  “I’m in the process of making those arrangements now. I’ll contact you with more information once your plane clears Cuban airspace.”

  Although it was impossible for me to know exactly what was going on back at Langley, I had a feeling Carlton wasn’t the one making the decisions.

  If I had to guess, I’d say the DDO was calling the shots, and the Senator was acting as his spotter.

  * * * *

  After we put everything back the way it was, I relocked the front door, and Juliana went to check on the two guards. When she came back, she said they were still out cold, and I repeated her words to Carlton.

  “Copy. I’ve just sent a text to Gabriel to let him know the guesthouse was unoccu
pied, and I told him to meet you at the van when he’s finished with his final set.”

  “Anything going on with the other guards around the compound?”

  “No. You and Juliana should be able to make it over to the garage without being seen, and I’ve notified Stevens to follow you to the airport. I won’t be in communication with you again until you’re airborne.”

  If Carlton hadn’t sent Gabriel the text to meet us at the van, the musician would have known to create some kind of diversion to give us more time to get Mitchell to the van.

  Now, however, there was no need for him to do anything. Mitchell was still locked up somewhere, and we had just been ordered to leave Cuba without him.

  The order to fly out of here tonight without Mitchell didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t the order itself that bothered me; it was trying to deal with the way the mission had gone down that disturbed me.

  Even though I’d experienced mission failures before, this felt more like a defeat than a failure. The operation had been well-planned—I was sure of that—and the reconnaissance had been more than adequate.

  In fact, I’d had success with far less resources many times.

  The irony of the whole thing was that I’d prayed about the mission, not once but several times. To me, this made the failure far worse, even unfair.

  As Juliana and I retraced our steps back up to the main house, I found myself getting angry. My anger wasn’t directed at the Ops Center, Carlton, or even Lorenzo. It was directed at God.

  I had a thousand questions for him.

  Why did he allow this to happen? What about my prayers? What about my efforts to deliver the Bibles to Phene’s church? What about all the times I’d tried to do the right thing? Didn’t all that count for something?

  I didn’t have an answer to any of those questions.

  Suddenly, I remembered something Valentino had said about the treasures he held in his heart.

  He’d described those treasures as “the kind you depend on when things get tough. The kind you trust for answers when you don’t have any answers.”

  Right now, I had no answers.

  Could I trust God for the answers?

  I couldn’t say for sure.