by Matt Lincoln
Ethan and Robbie looked at each other.
“We’re playing it by ear,” Ethan admitted. “Linking the people here with the guy who has the master list is what will make this case. Don’t forget. We have to figure out who in the organization was involved in sinking that boat. There’s probably a buyer out there who wants to know what happened to their car.”
“Unless it was set up by competitors,” Arturo said. Everyone looked at him, and he met Yoani’s eye. “Think about this. Why would the head of the ring sink a boat with two of his people and cargo? That had to be a big loss.”
Yoani put her hands in her lap. Several possibilities came to mind that she hadn’t thought through. She looked at the agents. They must have a lot of resources and smarts to work through so many scenarios. It wasn’t that she was naïve but that it simply wasn’t something she’d considered before.
“I am far out of my league,” she told them. “There are too many threads to unravel, and I see that if you pull the wrong ones, your case falls apart.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it gets complicated, but that’s why we examine all the pieces as they come to light. I’m sorry that your department got you involved. That said, you’re doing fine. Our job is to find the bad guys and keep you safe while we do it.”
“Aren’t you worried that I’ll make mistakes?” She was. Her confidence was shaken by the encounter with González, although she still couldn’t put her finger on why.
“It is what it is,” Robbie said. His warm smile was welcome but didn’t make her feel better. “This is a unique situation. Follow our lead. Ask questions if you need to. It should be okay.”
Yoani shuddered at the words “should be okay,” but the agents didn’t seem to notice. In her experience, “should be okay” rarely was. Then again, the situation was, as Robbie said, unique.
A hand settled on Yoani’s shoulder, and she jumped.
“Easy, amiga.” It was Philippe, and he pulled a chair up to the end of their table. “It’s almost noon. Arturo, you look like death. Go home and rest.”
Arturo gave a weary nod and stood.
“Excuse me. I will see you tonight.”
Ethan moved out of the booth as well, and Yoani followed suit.
“I’ll brief you upstairs,” Ethan told Philippe. “For now, our job is to wait and see.”
CHAPTER 19
Holm and I were in the middle of planning through a few scenarios, and Clyde was reading a book when my cell phone buzzed. The caller ID showed it as the retired Fleet Admiral Donald Farr. Over the past months, each call from him brought more bad news about someone’s intent to defund MBLIS.
“I have to take this,” I told the other two. “It’s private.”
Clyde got up and went to the other suite without looking up from his book on ecological forensics. Holm rocked back in his chair at the table we’d covered in paper and pens. He knew I had a secret, and I could tell it pissed him off, but Farr was adamant that I keep the information to myself until we had actionable intel.
“Sure. I’ll go talk with Yoani and Philippe.” Holm got up and went to the suites’ connecting door. “Maybe give me a head’s up if this will be a fan-hitting shitfest.”
I nodded. “I’ll do my best, partner.”
He left, and I answered the insistent buzzing.
“Marston here.”
“Ethan, it’s Farr. I have news.”
“The best news would be that our funding was all back in place,” I grumbled. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the news.”
“If wishes were dollars, kid.” Farr coughed away from his phone. The last time we spoke, he’d had a cold then as well. “My contacts have found out which senator is pushing for MBLIS to dissolve.”
Just hearing those words gave me chills. MBLIS was my life. We did a lot of good in the world, and taking us out of play would be foolish. Or beneficial for the wrong people.
“Who?” I asked.
“Bradley Whittington,” he spat.
A chill ran through my belly. He was the Florida senator who ran on a platform of national security and fiscal responsibility. I’d heard questionable things about him years earlier, but nothing outstanding.
“Is this part of his spending platform?” I paced the room and rubbed the back of my head. “I mean, he spoke about consolidating redundant agencies and departments.”
Farr was quiet for a moment, and then he coughed again. When he spoke, his voice was shaky.
“There’s more to it,” he told me. “I feel it in my gut. You heard the accusations about human trafficking a few years ago, right?”
“I did, but the investigation only turned up a friend of a friend who got into hot water with immigration.”
I didn’t bring up the quiet rumors about an addiction to cocaine. Too many politicians had dirty secrets for anyone to shine a light on it.
“Be careful,” Farr said. “Have your techie friend put out feelers on this. I trust him.”
“Warner?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust TJ Warner so much as I was surprised that Farr mentioned him specifically. “I don’t want him to get into trouble with the wrong people.”
“Trust him.” Farr coughed yet again.
“Are you okay, sir?”
“I’m fine, just fine,” Farr insisted, but I heard the edge of a lie. “I have to go. Weekly deadline for the magazine. It’s like how people complain about laundry. It never ends.”
I laughed. “Copy that, sir.”
“Be careful, Ethan. Not just this situation, but with your current assignment. I might have a lead on your target. Your bartender friend contacted me with the guy’s name.”
I raised my brows. “That would help.” I knew Mike could reach out to high sources, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that Farr would have that little tidbit already.
“Always,” Farr said. “This situation doesn’t bode well for MBLIS or the other agencies that would absorb assets. I want to know why it’s happening.”
“You better believe I do, too. Thank you for the update.”
We said our goodbyes and ended the call.
King was a powerful senator who wasn’t someone I cared to have as an enemy. A number of possible reasons for his agenda ran through my mind, but I had to push the line of thought aside in order to refocus on the case.
I opened the suite door and brought Holm back in. Clyde had put down his book while I spoke with Farr, and he didn’t show any inclination to move away from a discussion about ecology with Yoani. For his part, Philippe appeared to be utterly bored. That didn’t bother me a bit.
“More secrets?” Holm asked in a dry voice as we returned to the table.
“Consider it orders from on high.” I spoke with more bite than I’d intended, and he grimaced. “Sorry, partner. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can. It’s just… I can’t right now.”
Damn Farr for making me swear to keep this from my partner and best friend. His demands weren’t binding since he was retired, but he maintained a level of authority that one didn’t find among the usual military retirees. Being a former Joint Chief and Fleet Admiral had more than a little to do with that.
“I trust you,” Holm said. “Don’t forget that you can trust me.”
“Let’s get back to this.” I pointed to a map of the entire island. “I’m thinking there should be a drone or plane above the location while we’re there. The pilot can follow where the car guys take their goods after we’re done choosing a car or two for the buy.”
“Think they’ll let us drive them a bit?” A boyish flare lit Holm’s eyes. “We need to hear how they purr, you know.”
I chuckled. “Hard telling, but I doubt it. These people seem to have a system in place. We might be lucky enough for them to give us a ride around the block in each car, but that would up their risk for exposure.”
“True. I think—”
The phone from González blared a techno ringtone. I snagged it from where we’d set it on t
he nightstand and then pointed at Holm. He jumped out of his chair to shut the door to the other suite. Yoani slipped through before he locked it.
I answered on the third ring.
“Ted speaking,” I said.
A clipped voice with a heavy, but understandable, accent spoke.
“We’ll meet at the following location at seven tomorrow morning.”
He gave the location information, and I scribbled it onto a hotel notepad.
“What do you need for us to bring or do?” I asked.
“You two men plus the girl,” the man told me. “Fifty-thousand American dollars cash upfront per car. The rest in cash upon delivery.”
“Whoa, that’s a hard request,” I protested. “We didn’t bring cash with us. How are we supposed to get that before tomorrow morning?”
“Not my problem. Figure it out, or no deal.”
The man ended the call, and I frowned at Holm.
“They want fifty grand down per car,” I told him. “So that’s forty-plus the ten-k for shipping.”
“It’s not like we didn’t expect it.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Good luck with your call to the director. I’m sure Diane is thrilled about the progress we’ve made since yesterday morning.”
He vacated to the other suite before I could protest as if I was in the position to choose who got to call her. Holm didn’t need to act so happy that I was about to face her wrath after Mike’s escapade. On that cheery note, I dialed her number. She answered before the first ring ended.
“You better have good news,” she barked without so much as a greeting. “Mike’s antics have put the entire operation up in the air. My contacts in Cuba are ready to give the bunch of you the boot.”
“He’s probably landed in Miami by now,” I said. “If he hasn’t gone to the bar or checked in with you by now, he should soon.”
“He better.” Her sigh came over the phone, loud and clear. “Tell me you have good news.”
“It’s a mix.” I went over to the window and stared over the city of Havana. “We have a time and location to meet these guys, but we need a hundred-and-ten-thousand dollars cash.”
“That’ll raise a few eyebrows.” Her voice slid upward. “We can do it, but there are eyes watching our every move. If we lose that money and don’t get a conviction, they’ll be on our asses.”
“I know.” I cleared my throat. Diane supposedly didn’t know how much information I had on the funding situation. Hell, I was sure I knew more than she did. “Send Birn with it, will ya? We’ll say he’s my security guy and brought the money in person.”
Diane hesitated. “He and Muñoz are in the middle of a big investigation.” It sounded like she was tapping in the background, but then the noise stopped. “I can free him up, but Muñoz won’t be happy.”
I snorted. “Is she ever happy about our interruptions to their cases?”
“You should return the favor more often,” Diane said in a droll tone.
“Point. Tell them I owe them one.”
“I’ll have Birn on a plane tonight. Good hunting, Ethan.”
“Thanks, Diane.”
I put my phone on a charger as Holm studied a map on his phone. He took a red pen and marked a dot about two-and-a-half hours southeast of Havana. The cars were going to be in a rural area where a farm bordered a forested area. A location like that was perfect for clandestine purchases, and for ambushes. We were going to have a lot of cash on hand without any backup, at least as far as the smugglers knew.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Holm asked in a tight tone.
“Car deal versus getting attacked for the money?”
He sat back and crossed his arms. “Yep.”
The sudden chill that ran through my belly made me wonder which one we’d face the next morning.
CHAPTER 20
“You were going to tell us when?”
I glared at Yoani. When she frowned, I took a deep breath and let it go slow and easy.
“I wanted a chance to convince them not to raid the viewing,” she told us in a firm voice. “Your plan makes more sense to me as well. That’s why I’m telling you about this.”
“Why bother now?” Holm crossed his arms and leaned back against the windowsill. “They’re already set on it no matter what we say.”
A tremulous smile played at the corner of Yoani’s lips.
“I might have made a mistake in the coordinates of the location.” She glanced at the suite door, where Philippe frowned at her. “It’s in our best interests to cooperate, and the raid is not cooperation.”
I watched Philippe’s face and only saw bemusement and, possibly, pride as he regarded Yoani. If he was the type inclined to snitch on others, he didn’t show it.
“There’s time to correct the ‘mistake.’” I knew I should be glad of what she was doing, but it worried me. “Even if they don’t find out it was intentional, you could lose your job over it.”
Holm kept his thoughts to himself, but I thought I detected a slight nod.
Yoani lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. I liked this more confident version of her. Our encounters with González seemed to pull the wind from her sails, but away from that creep, she projected a level of strength I appreciated.
“There are times when one must be willing to pay the price for doing the moral thing,” she said. “You are determined to bring everyone involved to justice, and I want to help.”
“What about your job?” Philippe stepped forward. The gentle look he’d held a moment earlier was gone. “I will support you, my friend, but think about your mother.”
Yoani tightened her fists. “I am. If I lose my work, we will find a way to survive. If I lose my honor, my mother would not forgive me.” She pinned me with a look from those gorgeous light-brown eyes. “If a murderer goes free because my government is too eager to get you out of here, then I will not forgive myself, either.”
I wanted to learn more about the emphasis on Yoani’s mother, but this wasn’t the time. Instead, I held back to let the conversation play out.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Philippe said. He turned toward us. “We have known each other since childhood. It may seem I’m overstepping, but I look out for my friends.”
That explained a few things, although the guy seemed almost too good to be true. I couldn’t help wondering if there was a thing between him and Yoani. Or if he thought there was. The guy was so laid back that he was hard to read.
“It’s the right thing to do.” She stepped closer to me, and I caught the hint of a sweet, floral scent. “I am putting my trust in you. Everything I’ve been taught says to do as I’m ordered by my department, but I believe that you are in the right here. Please do not prove me wrong.”
“We’ll do our best,” I promised her. “This case has a lot more importance to me than some of the others I’ve worked. It’s not that our other cases aren’t important, but this has implications for our countries’ ability to work together, and it’s personal. But you know that.”
Holm stretched and moved in from where he’d been chilling by the window. He began stacking the paperwork and maps on the table into a neat pile.
“I think we’ve planned as much as we can,” he told everyone. “Birn isn’t due in until tonight. How about you two take us on a tour?”
Yoani and Philippe met each other's eyes, and Philippe shrugged.
“How about the Malecón?” she suggested. “There’s a nice breeze, and you can see beautiful architecture. Street musicians are out most days, as well.”
“You can find good drinks and food in the area,” Philippe added. He chuckled when Yoani rolled her eyes. “It’s true. You look at the ocean, the waves hit the seawall, you get soaked, you get a drink.”
“Why not?” Holm turned back toward the window and looked toward the narrow glimpse we had of the Straits of Florida. “It’s not something we get to see every day.”
Philippe drove and nestled the Emgrand b
etween a rusting Chevy and a newer Kia. I had to give the man credit. He knew how to parallel park a large vehicle with inches to spare. We all put on hats and sunglasses not only to protect us from the sun but as a cheap disguise should any of González’s people have known what we looked like. Holm’s surfer shorts and Ron Jon shirt were completely counter to what he’d worn to the club and at breakfast. I sported an old Hard Rock Cafe shirt I got in London along with cutoff shorts that Holm always gave me crap about.
True to Yoani’s word, we were met with cheerful music only a block from the famous highway. We ambled past colonial-style buildings, some faded by countless days of merciless sunlight, and some restored with dazzling blues, yellows, and other tropical hues. People wandered the path along the seawall which was on the far side of the six-lane road.
I had a feeling an architect I used to date would have had a blast strolling down the Malecón, although she probably would’ve liked to create more ecological options to protect the city from rising sea levels.
“The ocean is calm right now, but there are times when it crashes over the seawall.” Yoani raised her voice to be heard over the six lanes of traffic and the nearby musical trio. “People love to get photos of standing beneath those waves.” She shook her head. “The photos are remarkable, but getting swept out to sea? Not so much.”
I saw the appeal in defying nature if a person was naïve as hell. Rough waters were nothing to laugh at. While serving as SEALs, Holm and I had spent more time than I cared to admit dealing with stormy seas and high waves crashing against shores. I lived for it.
We stopped to watch a young couple getting photos taken by a professional photographer. The sun was high with the midafternoon, and the photographer seemed to have a difficult time getting his subjects into a flattering light. Other people made their way up and down the seawall, including a teenager on a skateboard. He rolled toward the photography session, and I saw what was coming from a klick away.
“Ah, hell,” I groaned as the kid snagged the camera and shoved the photographer to the ground.
