Four Months in Cuba

by Luana Ehrlich

  “What? No. That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. She told me so herself.”

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

  “No, I’m not. She said she was attracted to you. Given the chance, she said she’d choose you over me any day.”

  He got up off the floor and began pacing back and forth in front of his cell. “That really hurt. Until she said that, I thought we had something special.”

  He stopped pacing and looked over at me. “I’m not talking about our working relationship. Our relationship had gone way beyond that.”

  “I get the picture.”

  “Yeah, I’ll just leave it at that.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “When I told her how I felt about her, I couldn’t believe her reaction. It was completely negative. First, she said she was too old for me. After I argued with her about our age difference, she came up with a couple of other excuses.” He shook his head. “The argument finally ended when she confessed she’d rather be with you.”

  He put his head in his hands and sat there without saying a word.

  I knew he expected some sort of response from me, and while my inclination was to give him some measure of hope by telling him Juliana regretted the argument they’d had, I decided it might be better if I made my own confession.

  “I understand the feelings you have for Juliana,” I said. “I have similar feelings.”

  He looked up. “I knew it. You were lying to me all along.”

  “No, hear me out. I don’t have feelings for Juliana. Ours is strictly a working relationship. I was talking about my feelings for someone I met in Oklahoma while I was on medical leave. Her name is Nikki Saxon.”

  He shook his head and glared at me. “Why would I believe you? You’ve never mentioned her before.”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Come to think of it, you never talk about your personal life.”

  “That’s because it’s personal.”

  “So you’re not interested in Juliana?”

  “No, and if you want my advice—”

  “I don’t.”

  “—I’d give Juliana another chance. It sounds like she was just using me as an excuse. Personally, I think her husband’s death really affected her, and if I were you, I’d try to find out more about how she’s dealing with it.”

  “You’re encouraging our relationship now? When we were in Buenos Aires, you told me she was too old for me.”

  “I did?”

  “You definitely did.”

  “I can be wrong, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  * * * *

  Around midmorning, Mitchell pulled out his Arabic books and suggested I quiz him on some common Arabic phrases. It wasn’t long before I realized he was making a lot of progress learning the language.

  “I’m impressed, Ben. You’re really good at this.”

  He smiled. “How long did it take you to learn Arabic?”

  “My situation was a lot different. The Agency put me into Pakistan and had me live with a non-English speaking tutor for several months. The only language I heard every day was Arabic. It was a total immersion experience.”

  “That’s the way I learned Spanish. The Senator wanted me to be bilingual, so he hired a nanny who only spoke Spanish. She lived with us until I was a teenager.”

  “You’d learn the language much faster if I only spoke to you in Arabic, but, if we did that, we’d need to be careful. There’s nothing in Nacio Bandera’s background that would suggest he’s ever spoken anything but Spanish.”

  “I told Alvarez I was learning Arabic so I could go to work for the State Department. I think he totally bought it.”

  “What about Victor? Did he harass you when you—”

  As if on cue, Victor suddenly opened the door and walked in the cabin.

  This time, he was carrying his rifle.

  After pulling his keys out of his pocket with his free hand, he opened my cell door and said, “We’re gonna take a little walk.”

  “You won’t get any argument out of me. I’m ready to get out of this place.”

  “Oh, you’ll be back,” he said. “Our guests usually stay with us a very long time.”

  Once we were outside, Victor pointed me in the direction of the farmhouse. “Start walking. I’ll be right behind you.”

  I did as I was told, but I took my time doing it, setting a pace between a leisurely walk and a lazy stroll.

  When we came to the clearing between the housing units, my slower gait gave me another opportunity to glance over at the barn.

  The scene had changed from the night before.

  Instead of four guards stationed around the barn, there were six. I decided either Lorenzo was being extremely cautious, or he’d gotten word Hezbollah was coming after the canisters.

  Once we’d walked past the housing units, Victor directed me to follow the dirt road leading around to the front of the house. From there, I was able to view the entrance to Número Diez.

  Now, instead of a flimsy security arm at the front gate, there were concrete barriers, well-armed guards, and a large cargo truck parked at the entrance.

  It was the addition of the latter that drew my attention.

  In the Middle East, particularly among the Taliban, placing cargo trucks at vulnerable checkpoints prevented intruders from entering a restricted area, especially if the trucks were loaded with explosives. It appeared Lorenzo was taking a page from the Taliban’s playbook and using the truck as a deterrent in case Hezbollah decided to retrieve their stolen canisters.

  As soon as I saw the measures Lorenzo had taken to guard himself from an attack, I realized the chances of the DDO authorizing an operation to rescue us were practically nil.

  Of course, that didn’t mean Carlton wouldn’t try to convince the DDO to do otherwise.

  However, the thought of Carlton putting himself on the line for me, when I’d been assigned to bring Mitchell home myself, only served to strengthen my resolve to escape from Número Diez without the help of the Agency.

  As Victor and I walked up to the front door of the farmhouse, I tried to figure out a way to convey those intentions to Carlton.

  Chapter 47

  One of Lorenzo’s bodyguards met us at the front door, and I immediately recognized him as one of the thugs I’d seen at Club Nocturno. He was still wearing the same leather belt—the one with the scorpion on the buckle—and he still looked at me as if he didn’t trust me.

  I assumed his presence meant Rafael Lorenzo was somewhere in the vicinity. This was confirmed a few seconds later when I entered the living room and saw Lorenzo occupying an ornate chair in front of the fireplace.

  Felix Alvarez was also there.

  He was standing next to Lorenzo with his hands behind his back, and I had a feeling there was a weapon in one of those hands.

  Victor followed me into the room, but Lorenzo dismissed him with the flick of his hand. “You can wait outside,” he said. “We’ll take care of Señor Bandera.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what Lorenzo meant by that, but when Victor was told to leave the room, he looked disappointed.

  “Okay, Señor Bandera,” Lorenzo said, “you have my full attention. What did you want to tell me before I contacted your brother?”

  He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I believe your brother’s name is Ricardo. Is that right?”

  The moment I saw Lorenzo holding my phone, I felt the synapses fire, and I immediately thought of a way I could let Carlton know I was working on an escape plan.

  All I had to do was get my hands on the phone.

  “That’s right,” I said. “My brother’s name is Ricardo.”

  Lorenzo raised his eyebrows. “And?”

  “And, what I wanted to tell you was that Ricardo is very paranoid. He’s especially wary of being contacted by strangers. If you send him an email, even if you attach my picture to it, he’ll ignore it. He won’t respond.
”

  Alvarez said, “That’s not a problem. We’ll send the email through the account on your computer. He’ll think it’s coming directly from you.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head, “that won’t work. He’ll still be suspicious. He’ll think I’m already dead, and someone is just using my computer.”

  Lorenzo said, “Then maybe that’s what we should do; kill you and forget the money.”

  “If I may, I’d like to offer another suggestion. I think it’s something that should work better for both of us.”

  Lorenzo gestured at me impatiently. “Go ahead.”

  I pointed at my phone. “Why not let me call him? If he hears my voice, and I have the opportunity to explain the situation to him, then I’m sure he’ll follow your instructions.”

  Lorenzo stared at me. “You want me to let you talk to your brother?”

  I nodded. “I’ll put him on speakerphone, and you can listen to our entire conversation.”

  Lorenzo continued to hold my gaze while he addressed Alvarez. “What do you say, Felix? Do you think we can trust Señor Bandera?”

  “I don’t think you can trust anyone these days.”

  Lorenzo handed me the phone. “I’ll take the chance. He seems pretty harmless to me.”

  Assessing someone’s character didn’t appear to be Lorenzo’s strong suit.

  * * * *

  When Lorenzo handed me the phone, I immediately scrolled through the contacts and pressed the number for the non-existent Ricardo Bandera.

  As the three of us listened to the phone ringing, I pictured what was happening in Communication Services as the call was being received at Langley.

  If the protocols were followed correctly, the moment Ricardo’s number appeared on their computer screen, a red alert warning was triggered in RTM Center E. At the same time, an alert box began flashing on Carlton’s Agency phone. The alert box notified Carlton that Nacio Bandera was calling his brother, Ricardo.

  More than likely, the box had a short readout on Ricardo’s personality, along with a reminder that he, Carlton, needed to assume the personality of Ricardo when he accepted the call.

  Seconds before I heard Carlton say hello, I suddenly remembered he was lousy at playacting.

  Sure enough, when he answered the call, his voice sounded tentative. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ricardo. It’s Nacio.”

  “Nacio. It’s good to hear your voice. I got worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

  “There’s no need to worry. I’m fine.”

  “I’m always worried when I don’t hear from you. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard from your Cousin Rubio either. Have you heard from him?”

  I quickly realized Carlton must be referring to Mitchell, and I tried to reassure him Mitchell was fine.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him. I’m sure he’s doing great.”

  “I’d still like to hear from him.”

  “Give him a few days, maybe even a week or so, and I assure you he’ll either show up or give you a call.”

  “I’d like to believe that.”

  By this time, I could tell Lorenzo was getting antsy with all the small talk, and, sure enough, a few seconds later, he began giving me the hurry-up sign.

  “Listen, Ricardo, there’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t want you to be alarmed by this, because I know it will all work out.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I can’t go into the details right now, but I wanted to let you know I’ve been kidnapped.”

  “You’ve been what?”

  “I’ve been kidnapped. The men holding me will be contacting you and asking you to pay my ransom. I assured them you would do that.”

  “Are you serious? You’ve been kidnapped? That’s unbelievable. I can’t even imagine what—”

  “You’ll be receiving an email from me soon,” I said, cutting him off before he went completely overboard with the fake concern. “Follow those instructions, and everything will be okay. That’s all you need to do.”

  “Follow those instructions. I got it. Anything else?”

  “No, don’t do anything else. Did you hear me, Ricardo? Don’t do anything. I’m confident everything will work out. It may take a few days, but I’m sure you’ll see me soon.”

  When I disconnected the call, Lorenzo said, “Your brother sounds a lot older than you.”

  “Oh, yes, he’s much older.”

  * * * *

  Once the phone call was over, I offered to write the email to Ricardo, but Lorenzo declined my offer and ordered Alvarez to have Victor take me back to Cabin Thirteen.

  When Alvarez and I stepped into the foyer, I heard a child crying.

  “Is that your daughter?” I asked Alvarez. “Is she okay?”

  “What makes you think I have a daughter?”

  I pointed at a pair of pink tennis shoes by the front door. “I saw those when I came in.”

  He nodded. “They belong to my daughter.”

  When the child cried out again, I saw Alvarez wince.

  “It sounds like she’s in pain.”

  His face hardened. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my daughter’s very sick.”

  “You’re right. It’s none of my business, but I’d still like to do something for her.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not a doctor.”

  “No, but I believe in the power of prayer, and that’s what I can do for her. I can pray for your daughter to be healed.”

  Alvarez seemed taken aback by my offer, and he didn’t say anything for several seconds. Then he nodded and said, “Her name’s Alicia.”

  At that moment, Victor, who was standing on the porch, opened the front door, and Alvarez said, “Take him back to Thirteen now.”

  When Victor grabbed me by the arm, Alvarez turned on his heel and walked away.

  “What did you say to Señor Alvarez to make him so mad?” Victor asked.

  “I told him you didn’t give me any breakfast.”

  * * * *

  As we left the farmhouse, it was threatening rain, and by the time we got back down to the cabin, a full-blown thunderstorm had arrived.

  Because of the torrential downpour, Enzo and Victor took shelter inside the cabin, which prevented me from having a conversation with Mitchell about my phone call to Carlton.

  As the rain continued, Victor pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and cajoled Enzo into playing a game of poker with him. When the two men became serious about their game, Mitchell retreated to a corner of his cell and studied his Arabic.

  Meanwhile, I studied Victor.

  By the time the rain had ended, I’d learned three things about my jailer: first, he was an excellent poker player; second, he was not easily distracted when he was playing a game, and third, he laid his rifle on the floor beside him during a game.

  I wasn’t sure how useful such intel might be, but I filed it away in my cerebral cortex anyway.

  * * * *

  As soon as the men left us alone, I briefed Mitchell on my visit to the farmhouse. He seemed surprised when I told him I’d talked to Carlton.

  “You spoke directly to Douglas?”

  I smiled. “He actually did a pretty good job of pretending to be Ricardo Bandera. Would you believe he referred to you as Cousin Rubio?”

  Mitchell nodded. “That was my cover ID when we were in Buenos Aires. I’m surprised he remembered.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not something Douglas would forget.”

  “What did he say about Rubio?”

  “He wanted to make sure you were okay and we were together.”

  “When the Senator hears that, he may insist the DDO send a Special Ops Team in to rescue us.”

  “I don’t believe that’s gonna happen. The reconnaissance satellites will show all the extra security Lorenzo has in place, and, besides that, I’m positive Douglas understood I was telling him not to risk it. At the end of the conversation, I tried to make it clear
we were working on an escape plan.”

  “What about an escape plan? Have you come up with any ideas yet?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve already eliminated most of them.”

  “I thought of something we might use.”

  “Let’s hear it. I’m open to anything.”

  “Last week, the guy who tried to grab Victor’s keys did it when Victor was preoccupied with taking my picture.”

  I nodded. “I noticed he got very focused when he was playing cards.”

  “So, here’s what I’m thinking. The next time he lets one of us out of our cell, the other one could create some kind of crisis where he would have to focus on two different things at once.”

  I nodded. “It wouldn’t be hard to grab his rifle if that happened. But, let’s say one of us manages to disarm Victor and get his keys. What then? What happens once we make it out of the cabin?”

  Mitchell didn’t say anything.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “You’re asking me?”

  I looked around the cabin. “Who else would I be asking?”

  “It’s just that you’re the one with all the experience.”

  “It’s gonna take more than just experience to get us out of here. We’ll also have to rely on our instincts. You’ve got good instincts, Ben. You just need to trust them.”

  “Trusting my instincts got me kidnapped.”

  “No, trusting your instincts brought you to the cartel’s warehouse. Not paying attention to your surroundings got you kidnapped.”

  “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that what got you kidnapped?”

  Chapter 48

  Tuesday, August 25

  I woke up with a splitting headache. Strangely enough, it took me several seconds before I could remember what day it was.

  I attributed my headache to the pesticide Victor had sprayed around the cabin the night before, but I blamed my fuzzy time management on my confinement.

  I’d always heard it didn’t take prisoners long before they lost all track of time, and evidently it was happening to me.

  Despite my momentary lapse, I knew it had been over a week since I’d been taken hostage and confined to Cabin Thirteen. During that time, Mitchell and I had come up with what we thought would be a viable escape plan. The only problem we’d encountered was the opportunity to initiate the plan.