by Joe Gazzam
I took mental notes as Andy referred to the man as ‘Jorge.’ Pretending to lose interest, I subtly watched the conversation play out. It turned instantly aggressive.
I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it was clear Jorge was threatening Andy who tried desperately to defuse the situation. Jorge grabbed him and shoved him against the back wall of the shack, and I reflexively jerked forward, but stopped myself. Jorge jabbed his finger at Andy, unloaded a few more threats and finally stormed off.
“Hey,” Mitch said, stepping beside me. He looked over at Andy. “You’re right, that’s the guy in the picture.”
“Let’s go talk to him,” I said, getting to my feet.
As I trudged through the hot, thick sand and slid up against the worn wooden shack, I amped up my flirtatious smile. I needed information, and this guy was going to give it to me.
When he saw me, he offered a wide grin, which faded slightly when his eyes found Mitch.
“Hola. Qué bolá?”
“Hi,” I said, with an overly-sweet inflection. “Do you speak English?”
“Very well, I think.” His voice was a deep hum. “My name is Andy, and yours?”
“Tara,” I answered, waiting to see if my name would jog any memory.
It didn’t seem to.
“Beautiful. So, what excursions are you interested in?”
“You know, I’m not sure,” I said, faking interest. “Maybe you could help a girl out?”
“Is this for you and your boyfriend?” Andy asked, nodding toward Mitch who stood a few paces behind.
I looked back and frowned. “Him?”
“Me?” Mitch laughed.
I turned to Andy. “That’s my little brother.”
“Not really ‘little’ anymore,” Mitch offered loudly.
“Anyway...” I said, ignoring Mitch and rebooting my attempt at a flirty smile. “What do you have available?”
Andy held up a finger, grabbed a thick binder, and plopped it on the counter. “Maybe you should take a look. These are all the excursions I offer.”
“Dude, how are you not sweating?” Mitch asked as I skimmed the book. “I’m from Florida and it feels like the surface of the sun here. Do Cubans not have sweat glands—”
“It says here you have a guided cable car ride with a view of the city.” I pointed to a page in the book. “Are you the guide?”
“Yes I am.” Andy flashed a smile.
I nodded. “Great.” The perfect place to interrogate him alone, or hold him at gunpoint if he refused to talk. “We’ll take that one.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANDY AND I STOOD NEXT to each other inside a metal cable car with wraparound glass windows. The space was small, with no seating, so Mitch leaned against the back as we headed toward the summit of the Sierra del Rosario Mountain. The massive rocky structure rose in tumbled majesty all the way to the top.
A huge slash down the middle gave way to smaller eroded cliffs, mesas and jagged buttes, and the high elevation afforded a perfect aerial view of the southern portion of Cuba. Below, the city looked like a painting, with uncountable structures jammed together, their colors smeared and spotted, and swarms of constant traffic that weaved through city blocks like trails of ants.
Andy spoke in near-perfect English, with only the hint of a melodic accent lingering in the undertones as we rose higher. He gestured to the scenic coast. “In 1492, Christopher Columbus landed on what is now the island of Cuba and claimed it for the Kingdom of Spain. Cuba then remained a colony of Spain until the Spanish-American War of 1898, after which it came briefly under the administration of the United States until gaining formal independence in 1902...”
I was eager to shut him up. As soon as we were high enough to be out of sight, I interrupted him. “Andy. Me and my brother...we were actually hoping you could help us with something else.”
Andy squinted, and his dark eyelashes seemed to thicken. “Ah...okay.”
I pulled out my iPhone, flipped to a picture of Dad and extended it out. “We’re looking for this man.”
I watched as recognition swept across his face.
Andy shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “Sorry.” His smile was unconvincing. “We get a lot of tourists—”
“We know you were his local contact,” I said, getting straight to the point.
Andy’s smile evaporated. “Qué relajo. What do you want?”
“He’s our father.” I swiped to another photo of me, Mitch and Dad. “My brother and I came here to bring him home.”
“I...” Andy stammered, clearly uncomfortable.
“Listen, we’re his family, we’re not CIA. We have no connections to anything involved with this,” I said with pleading eyes. “We just want to find our dad.”
“And what is it you want from me?”
“He was here to extract someone,” I answered. “Who?”
Andy paused, unable to avoid my intense gaze for long. When our eyes connected, he pressed his fingertips to his scalp and combed his hair back before turning away. He let out a deep sigh, and I could sense his reluctance, but he knew. He had a name.
“His name is Javier Castillo,” he finally answered.
“We saw his picture,” Mitch said. He stepped closer, biting the corner of his thumb. “Who is he?”
“Castillo is many things. Chemist, physicist, engineer.”
“Why did the CIA want him extracted?” I asked.
“He is a weapons maker. His designs are revolutionary. Everyone is starting to buy from Castillo. He is the center of a very large and growing spider web—”
“What happened to my father?” I interrupted. I didn’t care how good-looking this guy was. If he knew something, I’d get it out of him—by whatever means necessary.
Andy crossed his muscular biceps. “Look, you are very pretty and your brother, while a little strange...”
“Strange?” Mitch frowned.
“...seem like okay people. But I sell excursions out of a shack on the beach, comprende? What I know are bits and pieces, floating through the air that I get secondhand. I heard that he had been captured, that is it.”
“How?” I asked, continuing my interrogation.
“I don’t know, but honestly, does it matter how it happened?”
“No, you’re right. There’s only one thing that matters—where is he now?”
Andy uncrossed his arms and turned up his palms. “Again, I’m sorry. I have no idea. Castillo has a large network in Havana. Many secret compounds and ah, what you call it...stash houses...around the city. It is impossible to know which one they have your father in. But even if you found him, it would take an army to get him out.”
I nodded, thinking to myself as the cable car climbed through a cold, damp band of clouds that blotted out the tumbled slopes for a moment. Ahead, the mountain threw up its final defense, a huge slab of insurmountable jagged rock that reached the rest of the way to its apex.
“It’s just the two of you?” Andy asked.
“Yes. Our father has been disavowed,” I answered. “The government, the CIA...they won’t even acknowledge he’s here.”
Andy frowned. “Then I’m sorry to say, but...you have come to Cuba for nothing, my friends.”
I focused on the floor, trying to think of something we could do. I simply didn’t have the resources to find him, much less break him out of any prison or compound.
“Not for nothing,” I said. “I had to come. I had to try.”
I stared out at the countryside as it swept beneath me. For the first time I let doubt enter my brain. I’d seen things end badly countless times in the Middle East. Valued hostages were always insulated, impossible to get to before they were taken out. With the right intel, it could be done, but I had nothing to go on. No one backing me.
The idea of never seeing my father again fully registered, and the resulting wave of emotion was so strong, it took all of my strength not to break down. Tears welled in my eyes and my thro
at ached with a sharp sting as I blinked them away.
I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching a second cable car approach going in the opposite direction. It was full of high school kids, laughing and having a good time. I locked eyes with a teenage girl who mimed for me to smile. But as she passed, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
The cable car full of teens headed through the fog and I remembered my own high school years. I’d taken my dad for granted then, assuming he would always be around. All that mattered to me then were my friends. But, where were they now? I hadn’t spoken to any of them in years. After Mom took off, I stopped calling and so did they. They didn’t understand what I was going through.
In the end, the only thing that mattered was family. Something I’d learned the hard way, and far too late. Now, Dad was gone. I’d never get to make up any of the time I’d wasted. I suddenly felt completely empty inside. As if my whole life was meaningless.
As I closed my eyes, for the briefest instant, I thought about simply going home. But I pushed the notion away. It was the only thing my childish stubborn streak was good for. This can’t be the end, I thought and shook my head. If Dad was alive, he’d only have a little while longer. There had to be something we could still do. As long as there was a chance, no matter how slim, I had to keep going.
And then, another thought crashed into me with equal force. Less of a thought and more of a certainty. Even if I couldn’t save Dad, I would damn sure make the men who killed him pay.
“Wait a minute,” Mitch said. “There still may be a way to get Dad back.”
I stiffened and turned to him. “How?”
“Complete Dad’s mission.”
Andy squinted. “What do you mean?”
My eyes lit up as my mind chased Mitch’s train of thought. Then I slapped the side of the cable car. “We don’t have to find Dad or even force our way into the structures he’s kept in. If we capture Castillo, we can use him as leverage to make a trade.”
“Exactly,” Mitch said.
“Wait, hold on—” Andy said, holding his hands up.
Mitch didn’t let him finish. “Before you say anything, answer one question: Could we locate Castillo?”
Andy shrugged. “I mean, it is not uncommon to see him around the city.”
“Then the impossible just became possible,” I said with a smile.
“It is not uncommon, because he owns the city. All of this...” Andy motioned below. “...this is his.”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. If we’re thinking tactically, this boils down to one single, very do-able action.”
“Which is what?” Andy’s skeptical eyes filled with worry.
“A kidnapping. One guy. Under the right circumstances, that’s something we can do, even with our limited resources.”
Andy waved his arms. “No, no, no. You do not understand. Castillo travels with armed men. You cannot just run up and grab him.”
“You’re right. We’d have to be smart about it.” I tucked a dark lock of hair behind my ear. “This is a mission of stealth, misdirection. It can’t be about force.”
“Like a tiger,” Mitch said.
I shot him a confused look, unable to completely hold back my smile. “Okay...”
“How does a tiger take down a buffalo, surrounded by a giant herd, all of which outweigh it by two thousand pounds?” he continued.
“I’m not playing Jeopardy with you, just tell us,” I said.
“It separates the target buffalo from the rest of the pack. Then attacks it when it’s vulnerable.”
“The strongest opponent is weakest on the move.” I nodded and turned back to Andy. I could feel my body starting to buzz with energy as I thought things through. “Do you know where Castillo lives?”
Andy shook his head. “Castillo has no home. He never sleeps in the same bed for more than a night. Very hard to track—”
I put a hand on Andy’s shoulder, which shut him up. “This is our only hope. Forget everything, who this guy is, all of the obstacles. And please, just listen to what I’m saying...”
Andy’s eyes softened as he looked at me. “Okay.”
I realized my hand was still on his shoulder and pulled it away.
“I know it seems far-fetched, but at its core, this idea that we’re proposing...is very, very simple. This is about grabbing one guy. I’m not saying it’s easy or even realistic, but it’s at least...possible.”
“Yes, okay. Barely possible, like, the tiniest sliver of a possibility.”
“That’s enough for me. They’re going to kill my dad. So, no matter how hard or how dangerous it is, we have to try. You understand that, right?”
“Of course. But you too must understand one thing...everyone in this city either works for Castillo or wants to. No one will help you.”
“Will you?” I moved a little closer. “Help us?”
Andy’s large lips parted. “Tara, listen...”
“You helped our dad. You must have had your reasons. Good reasons, right?”
Clunk. The cable car completed its journey. Mitch stepped out onto the peak of Sierra del Rosario Mountain leaving me a second more to silently plead with Andy. I waited for him to answer, but he nodded toward the open door of the cable car.
Out on the observation deck a few other groups were admiring the view. Up here it was clearer and even more breathtaking. Andy led us along the railing, stopping at the optimal point to admire the entire city of Havana sprawled out below. The metropolis of two million inhabitants was fascinating to see at this height. Full of baroque and neoclassical monuments mixed with homogeneous ensembles of private houses featuring arcades, wrought-iron gates and internal courtyards.
Andy finally turned to me. “Yes, I had my reasons. I have a special...hatred for the man.”
“Why?” I asked.
His jaw clenched as anger flashed across his face, but he ignored my question and continued. “Aside from that, I’ve wanted to live in America since I was a young boy. My uncle defected, so they deny my travel visa. Harry and your government promised me safe passage and asylum in the U.S.”
Mitch gripped the railing. “My father never says anything he doesn’t mean,” he told Andy. “Ever. Help us and he will make good on that promise.”
“This is very dangerous for me. My intent was to lay low for a while. Castillo is looking for the person who helped your father in the first place. It is one of the many pieces of information they, no doubt, are trying to get from him now.”
“All the more reason to help us,” I urged. “Help us get him back before they figure out who you are. Then we can all get out of here.”
Andy looked out at the city, thinking, then finally turned back to me. “You can stay in the safehouse I set up for your dad and I’ll point you in the right direction. But that is all. Yeah?”
I nodded. “Where do we start?”
“There is a nightclub. Best in the city. Castillo is there often. It is Saturday night and the place to be, so...chances are good he will show.”
Mitch shook his head. “A club? I’m too young.”
Andy smiled. “No problem, my friend. Here, the legal drinking age is sixteen. Your biggest issue is getting in. Like I said, this place is very, very popular.”
“Can you help us with that?” I asked.
“I know the bouncer, but...” His voice trailed off as he thought about it. “I’m trying to lay low.” He scratched his cheek, clearly wanting to say something but seeming a bit uncomfortable. “Look. You are a beautiful girl. If you find something proper to wear, you won’t need my help. But this place is very fancy. You’ll have to dress nice.”
I nodded, feeling the brushoff a little more than the compliment, but he was already giving us a place to stay so I couldn’t complain too much. Maybe he wasn’t a jerk or an idiot, after all.
When I glanced up, I met his eyes, and for a brief moment they were clouded with remorse.
“Come,” he said, waving a hand
and heading toward the cable car. “I will show you where you can stay.”
After a short ride back down the mountain, Mitch and I jumped into our stolen Cadillac, and followed Andy into a neighborhood just a half-mile from the beach. Once parked, Andy led us down a beat-up road and toward a standard Cuban bodega, a breathtaking catastrophe of cheap merchandise and food.
As we headed to the front of the market, a malnourished man leaning against the wall tried to kick a skeletal dog. The mutt sidestepped the attempt and scurried off. Andy waved the man out of the way and escorted us up a wobbly set of warped stairs. The steps led to a second-story apartment directly above the bodega.
“There is one bedroom and a couch,” Andy said, inviting us inside and handing me the key. “Make yourselves at home.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Wait here.” Andy held up a hand before disappearing into the other room. I heard the clunk of something solid against wooden floorboards. For a second, I tensed with suspicion, but then Andy came back with a metal briefcase. He set it on the dining room table. “This was your father’s. I have to go back to my shack, but there are places to shop for clothes all around here. Pick out something tight and short. Be ready by 8 p.m. I will come back for you and show you the club.”
“Thank you, Andy,” Mitch said. “Really.”
“I will get you there, and then you are on your own.”
I nodded. “See you at eight.”
Andy kept his eyes on me as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him. Once he was gone I walked to the briefcase and tried to open it. It was locked. There were two four-digit combinations. My eyebrows lifted slightly as an idea popped into my head. I put both Mitch and my birthdays in and tried to open it. No luck. I reversed the birthdays and click. The lock sprung.
Inside there were ammo clips scattered throughout. I recognized them. They belonged to a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 machine pistol and a Ruger P95 9mm. Moving them aside I pulled out a heavy waterproof plastic bag with bundles of hundred-dollar bills and a Belgian and a Nicaraguan passport, each with different names, as well as matching driver’s licenses. All with Dad’s picture. I shut the briefcase and let out a deep breath. It was overwhelming.
