CHAPTER 16
HURRICANE
Guantanamo Bay was not on my list of the top100 places I wanted to visit. Four hundred miles south of Miami, it was situated strategically in the Carribean where the U.S. could monitor drug traffickers preying on citizens of the U.S. It was a bargain for the measly $4,028 a year rent the U.S. paid to Cuba for it, particularly since Fidel Castro never cashed the rent checks. President Reagan had talked of abandoning the facility for being too expensive to maintain and not critical to U.S. security, but the Cuban population of Florida and many members of Congress were so outraged by the idea that he finally abandoned it. Cox narrated a brief history of the base on the way to our quarters. So far we hadn’t been put in leg irons.
“So, how long are we going to be here?” I asked. “I’m kind of anxious to get home and see my family.”
Logan shrugged. “We just need to ask you a few questions. We can’t be letting American citizens get pushed around. We have to know everything that happened to you. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”
“A day or two!” I moaned. “How about an hour or two?”
Logan smiled. “It’s not that simple, Stan. The CIA is involved now.”
Logan and Cox dropped us off at our quarters and said we would be picked up at fourteen hundred hours for lunch and then our initial round of interrogation would begin. It was fortunate that Monty and I had a few minutes alone to get our stories straight as they would surely try to find inconsistencies in what we had to say. We took a walk while we talked as we suspected our quarters would be bugged. When we returned, we took advantage of the time we had left to take a much-needed shower. We felt a little better when the MP showed up to take us to lunch. As promised we were given a nice juicy steak. Unfortunately, I couldn’t enjoy it as I felt like we were just being fattened up for the slaughter. After lunch we were separated and taken to our interrogation rooms.
“This is George Michaels and Rod Hartnett with the CIA. They will be handling the debriefing,” Logan said.
I took a seat at a rectangular table in the small stark room painted blue with gray trim. There was a two-way mirror on one wall, a counter to my right with a coffee maker perking away, and a bookshelf opposite where I was sitting. Michaels sat across from me and Hartnett stood in the corner near the door.
“So, Mr. Turner, what brought you to Ecuador?”
“An old client and friend was in Quito on business and disappeared. His wife asked me to go down there and see if I could find him.”
“Who was the client?”
“Tex Weller. He is an insurance agent and financial advisor.”
“Why didn’t she call the police or the FBI?”
“Tex goes away on business a lot and she wasn’t sure anything was wrong. She just got worried and asked me to check it out.”
"So, right in the middle of the biggest murder trial of your life you just jump on an airplane go to Ecuador?"
"Tex was my very first client, he's a good friend, and he refers me a lot of business. I needed to find him and make sure he was okay. We didn't figure the State Department would jump on something like this very quickly and we knew how a trail could get cold in just a few days."
“All right. So who is this guy you brought with you, Monty—”
“Dozier. He’s an ex-cop, ex-army, private investigator who helps me out on cases from time to time. I didn’t think it was a good idea to go alone so I brought him along. Besides, he speaks Spanish.”
“So what did you do when you got to Quito?” Michaels asked.
“We had a lead that he did business with the Peoples Bank of Ecuador so we checked it out first.”
“What kind of lead?”
“Some correspondence.”
“So, who did you talk to at the bank?”
“Oh, God. Ah . . . Lantz? I don’t remember his first name.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said that Tex had indeed been there but that he hadn’t seen him for several days.”
“Did he say what kind of business Tex had there?”
“No, he hadn't handled the business himself. Another officer of the bank—Mr. Alfaro—handled it and he wasn't available.”
Michaels stood up and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Would you like a cup?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied and Michaels filled another one.
Hartnett, who had been very quiet up until now, took a seat across from me. Michaels stood over me sipping his coffee.
Hartnett asked, “So, where did you go from the bank?”
“We had a credit card receipt from a store, I forget the name, so we dropped by there and showed Tex’s photograph to the clerk. Unfortunately, he didn’t recognize him. After that we went back to the hotel. We had earlier asked about Tex since he had stayed at the same hotel, but were told to ask the afternoon staff as they were more likely to have seen him.”
“Did you check with them?”
“Yes, they remembered him but had no idea where he had gone.”
“Did you do anything else?”
“Sure, we called the police to see if he was in jail and Monty called all the hospitals. We finally decided he had either left Ecuador or been kidnapped. That’s when the police broke into our room.”
I told Michaels and Hartnett about our arrest and incarceration at an unknown location and how Monty had finally taken advantage of an opportunity to escape. I thought everything was going well until Michaels dropped his bombshell.
“Did you meet with General Raul Moya while you were in Ecuador?”
“Moya? I talked to some military type people, but I don’t remember their names.”
“We know you met with General Moya. An informant advised us that you were taken to see him."
I shrugged. “It's possible. There was a military man who questioned me—tall, dark brown hair, full beard. He said the police had Tex in custody. He didn't say what the charges were. Apparently the police picked us up because we were looking for Tex and were asking questions about him. They mistakenly thought we were business associates.”
"That was General Moya. He's a ruthless guerrilla leader who operates in Ecuador. He's been involved in the kidnapping and murder of several U.S. businessmen."
I shook my head. “Really? I didn’t know that. I know very little about Ecuador. This was my first and last trip there, believe me.”
“I’d like to believe you, Stan,” Michaels said, “but a few things don’t add up.”
“Like what?” I asked.
"Like how you managed to escape so easily?”
“So easily? I brought Monty along because he was a highly trained, experienced soldier just in case we got into trouble. It paid off because he was able to break us out.”
“Right. And then there is the question of the $1.8 million,” Michaels interjected.
“What about it?" I said.
“You’re laundering money for the CDA, aren’t you?”
I let out a gasp. “Oh, Jesus! Give me a break. I hate the CDA. They’re nothing but a bunch of scumballs. I wouldn’t give them the time of day if they begged me.”
“Scumballs who paid you $50,000.”
“Listen. That's old news. So, the CDA is funding Dusty Thomas’ defense. Big deal.”
"Why was $1.8 million wired to your trust account?"
"I don't know. That money belongs to Tex and obviously I haven't been able to talk to him about it."
The interrogation continued for hours. I was so exhausted I could hardly stay awake. I wondered how Monty was holding up. I wasn’t too worried about him because he was an ex-cop and knew how interrogations worked. Also, I had kept him pretty much in the dark to protect Tex, so he didn’t know anything that could really hurt me or Tex. Finally, at nineteen hundred hours, we were returned to our quarters. We didn’t dare say anything about the interrogation, so we just engaged in a little small talk until our dinner arrived. After dinner we took a short walk and then went to bed as we were bo
th exhausted. When I woke up the next morning, it was after eleven hundred hours.
Outside our quarters there were a couple of MP’s stationed to keep an eye on us. Not that we could go anywhere as the base was only two and a half miles wide and surrounded by an impenetrable fence. It was windy and the sky had an eerie glow to it. I walked up to one of the MPs and asked, “Looks like a storm is brewing.”
“Yes, a hurricane is expected tomorrow morning.”
“A hurricane?”
“Yes, we get a lot of them here.”
“Wonderful. Are we safe here?”
He shrugged. “It depends on how high the winds get.”
“Have you seen Agent Logan or Cox? We were wondering what was on the agenda today.”
“Sorry, I don’t know. I was instructed to keep you in your quarters until I got further orders.”
I nodded and had started back to our quarters when I saw a Jeep approaching. It was Cox and she was in a hurry. She skidded to a stop in front of me.
“Get your stuff and get in. We’ve got to leave now to beat the hurricane.”
Elated with the news of our imminent departure, we hurried inside and got our stuff. After loading our luggage we took off. Cox drove fast down the narrow asphalt road toward the airstrip. I could see our Lear jet was waiting for us on the runway. Logan was on the tarmac watching a crew member filling the jet with fuel. We stopped in front of the plane, loaded our luggage, and climbed aboard.
I wondered if our nightmare was over or just beginning, so I asked, “So, are we going back to Dallas?”
Logan gave me a stern look. “Yeah, Stan. We’re going back to Dallas. Apparently you managed to call your wife at the airport.”
I smiled and nodded. My phone call had saved our lives. Rebekah knew we had escaped and were on a plane home. She had obviously told Paula and the press and now we were expected. If the government had planned to detain us and blame it on the kidnappers, that opportunity had evaporated. I couldn’t wait to get home. Our only problem now was a category five hurricane.
Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6 Page 16
