The office was now busy. Gearheardt sat at the conference table, directing traffic and speaking in Spanish to the half dozen girls in the room. He didn’t notice me or Marta right away and we watched him as he ran his global intelligence agency. His staff was voluptuous. Lisa walked by close to me and smiled, her red hair flashing at both ends. Marta didn’t seem as intrigued with her yellow outfit as I had been.
“Hey, there you are,” Gearheardt said. “And you found Marta. Great.” He began closing files on the table, indicating for Marta and me to take a seat.
“Ladies,” he said loudly, “Marta is from Cuba. Jack prostitutes himself for America.” The ladies, some of whom I doubted spoke English all that well, laughed and said hello to both Marta and me.
“I suggest we take a lunch break. Those of you with customers, be sure and wash your hands before you come back here to work.”
The ladies laughed again.
“Jesus, Gearheardt,” I said, “how embarrassing.” I sat down with Marta by my side.
“These women are prostitutes, Jack. You know it, and I know it. The men screwing them know it. Should I pretend that I don’t know?” He smiled at Marta.
“Ola, Marta. How was your morning?”
“Es fine, Pepe. I met with Victor.” She looked at the retreating women and then at me.
“And?”
“He is very happy to be working with the,” she waited as the door closed, “CIA on this mission.”
“By golly, who wouldn’t be, right Jack? Finest organization in the world. Maybe that should be finest ‘unorganization’ in the world.” He rolled his eyes at me, and then smiled at Marta.
“So Victor is game for being our assassin? Super. It’s nice to know you have psychopathic people eager to work with you.”
Marta looked puzzled, and I was taken aback by Gearheardt’s manic enthusiasm.
“Marta, I hate to keep running you around, but would you mind finding Daisy and spending a bit of time with her? Ask one of the girls to help you find her. Tell her about your group in Cuba. Jack and I will finish up here and then come find you.”
After Marta left, somewhat reluctantly, Gearheardt leaned back in his chair. He stretched his arms and yawned. Then he leaned forward toward me, his forearms on the table.
“Things have gotten complicated, Jack,” he said.
I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, Lord. How could this get more complicated?”
“It seems we, that’s you and me, pal, have been double-crossed.”
I looked up. “By who?”
“It appears by just about everybody.”
I straightened my back and sat up in my chair. After all I was a former Marine and a full-fledged employee of the Central Intelligence Agency. Gearheardt and I had been in tough spots before. Almost all of them as a result of his unbridled enthusiasm for an idea.
“So where are we?” I asked.
“How well do you know Eduardo?” he asked.
“The Halcone? Why do you ask?”
“We need them. So do you trust him? Can we work with him?”
“I have no idea. I’ve used him a couple of times and I share some information with them from time to time. I don’t really know how high up in the organization he is.”
“He’s pretty high up, I can tell you that. Daisy says that he’s one of the top guys.”
“Daisy … the Madame. You mean Eduardo is a customer here?”
“No. She just has the org chart for the Halcones pretty well memorized. She can’t afford to screw around with them.” Gearheardt picked up the Goodbye Mexico file. “I’ve made a few more entries. Take a look and then we’ll talk.”
“You went with the Halcones that night in the park. What was that all about?”
“They’ve heard about my network. Wanted to see if they might buy some information. I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about. Made them mad since they knew I was lying.”
“They didn’t blowtorch your nuts?”
Gearheardt laughed. “They wanted to, but I convinced them that I had some files that they didn’t want to see in the press. I’m not sure they really gave a damn, but there was some professional courtesy in the chat and they just let me go.”
“Professional courtesy?”
“Rat bastards recognize one another.”
“Eduardo told me that they were looking for you. They didn’t like you talking to Victor Ramirez.”
“They know the Cubans are up to something. They think I might have something to do with it. In my capacity as an international trouble-maker.”
“So why do we need the Halcones?”
“Do you want to kill Ramirez?”
“Not particularly, but I will. That’s my job, right?”
“Let’s get the Halcones to do it. Kind of a joint venture.”
A key rattled in the door and it opened.
“Knock, knock,” Benito sang. He winked at me as he sat a tray on the conference table. “I have something very special for you, hombres. Carne asada de Benito.”
“Muchas gracias, Benny. It looks great. I told Jack that you were an excellent cook.”
Benito beamed. I glared at Gearheardt but said nothing.
“Call me if you want dessert.” He swished out of the room, flapping his folded towel over his shoulder.
“Gearheardt, you’re going to have half of Mexico City thinking I’m a homo for God’s sake. Would you knock it off?”
As soon as we began eating, I tried to get Gearheardt back on track. “You said things have become more complicated. That we have been double-crossed. What’s that all about? Level with me, Gearheardt.”
Gearheardt was inspecting a string of meat he had found on his plate.
“I’ve gone back over all of the traffic while you were gone. Some things jumped out that I was too gung ho to see before.”
“Too gung ho? I know what gung ho means but—”
“I let my enthusiasm for the mission blind me to the obvious. First, Crenshaw knows everything. He didn’t work for the Pygmy, the Pygmy works for him. Second, and this is going to hurt, your secretary, Juanita, is not the innocent twit she sometimes acts like.”
“Juanita? She’s no twit.”
“She and Crenshaw have been fooling you about a lot of things. But she doesn’t know that she’s been taken for a ride too.” He paused and took a drink, then continued.
“But let me finish. Third, the Russians have gotten wind of things and are pissing in their pants. They know that Cuba will ask for help if the U.S. tries anything and they are going to be put on the spot. I suspect that the Cubans have already asked for assurances and the Russians aren’t telling them what they want to hear. You remember the report we read this morning.”
“Gearheardt, this is all very interesting, but I’m no closer to understanding what the hell is going on than I was before you started.” I paused and put down my knife and fork. “And I’m still not convinced that Juanita is a mole.”
“Jack, just remember that spying for an ally is still spying. But you’ll understand about Juanita later. This is damn good carne asada, isn’t it?”
I was thinking about Juanita whispering her sister was ISP. Maybe she was trying to tell me more than I realized. I watched Gearheardt finish his lunch and stack the plates on an adjacent desk. I knew that he would tell me what he wanted me to know in his own good time. He had always had an aversion to answering questions.
“Here’s what I think has happened, Jack.” He stood and went to the window. His best efforts couldn’t open it and he sat back down. “That darn Daisy doesn’t allow smoking in Las Palomas. Says it’s not good for the girl’s health. Anyway, about six months ago I took my plan to the agency—how we could basically get control of Cuba and win the appreciation of South and Central America at the same time.”
“Why were you so concerned with getting control of Cuba? You were the one who told me how good the Cuban troops were and how Castro was ‘the man.’”
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“Well the part about the troops was, is, true. I wanted to make sure that no one thought the invasion would be a piece of cake. As for Castro, I was actually being sarcastic when I presented to the Agency, but they don’t understand sarcasm much in Langley. I thought you knew I was kidding.”
“Nope, you fooled me too.”
“It doesn’t make any difference. Cuba will never be worth a shit with Castro running it. The boys in Langley at least know that much. I just wanted to have a plan that wasn’t a personal vendetta against the man.”
“Okay, okay. I get it so far. The Agency bought your plan, which I still am in the dark about, and you started getting things set up. So what’s gone wrong?”
“The Pygmy was my man in Langley. He had a lot of influence; basically from reading Tom Wolfe’s book Radical Chic and Mau Mauing the Flak Catchers.”
“I’ve read it. That’s where he got his inspiration?” I could see where a four-foot African wearing animal skins and building cooking fires in the halls of CIA headquarters might be able to develop an intimidation factor. “So what happened next?”
“The Pygmy blabbed around about my whole plan and unfortunately caught the attention of the Vatican’s spy in the Agency. You can probably guess—”
“Wait a minute. The Vatican has a spy in the CIA? Come on, Gearheardt. You’ve finally gone around the bend. This is just bullshit.”
“As I started to say, Jack, you can probably guess who that spy is. Our boy Crenshaw.”
I slammed the table with my fist and then stood up.
“Damn it, Gearheardt. This is just too much! If I believed any of this crap, and I’m not saying I do, then what was all that bull you gave me the last two days? Why didn’t you just tell me your stupid plan and that you suspected Crenshaw or—”
Gearheardt got up and came over to my side of the table. “Jack, listen to me. I feel terrible but I’ll tell you the truth. I had to get my plan started before you could talk me out of it.”
I started to protest.
“No, listen. Remember, although you didn’t know it, you were Crenshaw’s pick to come down here. That surprises you doesn’t it? But think about it, who better to have in Mexico City when I’m down here setting things up than my best pal? And better yet, a guy who actually has a conscience and a sense of duty. They knew you’d try to do the right thing. I knew that too and that’s why I didn’t look you up until I had things pretty well squared away.”
He stuck his hand out and I debated whether or not I wanted to shake it, but he was only reaching past me to get my unfinished beer. Gearheardt was not overly sentimental.
He sat back down at the end of the table and finished my beer in one long swallow. “Nectar of the gods,” he said. “This particular brand is ‘piss of the gods,’ but still pretty darn good.” He tossed the bottle noisily into the trash can. “So are you with me now?”
I dropped into my chair. Still wrestling with the realization that I wasn’t the Agency’s ‘golden boy,’ ready to take on assignments with little experience and a woeful lack of language skills, but just a tool in the toolbox. I actually didn’t resent that; I wasn’t as naïve as Gearheardt didn’t think I was. I felt foolish for letting my guard down and not realizing what I was doing. The Agency was right. I would always try to do the right thing. I just needed to know what it was.
“No, I am not with you now. I thought that I had figured out that Crenshaw’s mission and your plan were one and the same. To tell the truth I assumed it was just ego that had you two vying for who was in charge. Not that I didn’t think you probably had a few ‘out-factors’ that would give the Agency some heartburn. But now you tell me Crenshaw has double-crossed you. So I guess I am not with you quite yet.”
Gearheardt went to the door and made sure that it was locked from the inside by turning the deadbolt. He shut the blind on the window.
“So I’m finally going to hear the truth?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. But I was also excited to finally know what was really going on.
“What? Oh sure, but I just decided I really had to have a cigarette. I don’t want that damn Daisy busting in here.”
Gearheardt lit his cigarette, puffed a couple of times and then dropped the remainder into a beer bottle. “Never as good as you think they’re going to be.”
“Would you please get on with it, Gearheardt? You’re the most frustrating sonofabitch I’ve ever known.”
“Thanks, Jack. Look, the idea of finally getting Castro out of Cuba wasn’t a hard sell in the Agency. I think the President had to think it over for a couple of days. But they convinced him I could pull it off and that’s what he was really concerned about. But my whole plan included putting the right people in office down there. There’s where I had to make a deal with the devil. The devil in this case being the DCI. I agreed to give them exclusive rights to the information my network developed. It was too good for them to pass up. But Crenshaw evidently found out about it and brought in some big outside political guns to support his agenda.”
“Which was?”
“Jack, he wants the Vatican to run Cuba. Mackerel snapper’s heaven. They’ve been looking for a big success in Latin America ever since Montezuma kicked Cortez’s ass.”
“I’m not sure he did. But believe it or not, that doesn’t seem so outlandish. It’s hard to believe the Vatican has that much influence with the CIA. But I guess there is some history there.” I looked at Gearheardt and felt almost proud of being involved in something as momentous as the Catholic Church taking over and running a country. Crenshaw’s questions about the number of committed Catholics among the Cuban gangs made some sense. Maybe the Church could create the counter-revolution that the free Cubans couldn’t. But that was only one side.
“So what was your plan, Gearheardt? The Marines? They’re already on the island.”
“I promised it to the girls, Jack. I told the ISP they could have their own country. Damn CIA and the Pope are trying to back down on their assurances. We’re not going to let that happen, are we?”
After a moment, Gearheardt went on. “The thing is, I think the Pygmy has double crossed me. He’s willing to get rid of me just so he can take over my network.”
“The International Sisterhood of Prostitutes?”
“How many networks do you think I have, Jack? Yes, the ISP. So he puts out the word he’s trying to kill you, but it’s me he’s after.”
“That’s a switch. But why hasn’t he killed you?”
Gearheardt thought for a moment. “I think it has something to do with Crenshaw. They have to get my plan in place before they grab for it. Remember the U.S. has to invade Cuba or the Pope is left sitting with his di—”
“You’re not really Catholic are you, Gearheardt?”
“Well anyway, the Pope gets squat if we don’t bomb the Cubans. That ain’t gonna make him happy.”
It may be childish but even in my young manhood I had often relied on a basic test of proper behavior: Could I explain it to my mother?
This one would be interesting.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IF GEARHEARDT WERE POPE, WE’D ALL GET TO WEAR FUNNY HATS
“If I had explained it to you before, would you have helped me?” Gearheardt asked.
“It’s just crazy, Gearheardt. How could you possibly expect your scheme to work? I’m surprised the DCI let you out of the building without calling the loony bin folks to come get you.”
“If the CIA called the loony bin every time someone came up with a cockamamie idea—”
“But giving Cuba to the prostitutes? Evan if it is a good idea. I can’t think of a more impractical mission to pull off. No politician is crazy enough to publicly back the idea. And that’s saying a lot.” I still couldn’t quite believe he was serious.
“You’re thinking of a big ceremony where the key to the country is handed over to a lady dressed in black lace and high heels, Jack. That’s not the idea. When the Marines have control of Havana
, we just put our team in office. Wham, bam, you’ve got New Whoreville on the map. Of course they’d come up with a better name.”
I was having a hard time coming up with responses. The idea was so ludicrous that normal debate was impossible.
“It’s not going to happen, Gearheardt.”
“Not if we sit on our asses and let Crenshaw control the process. We need to get moving.”
“How can Crenshaw do anything? He’s being held in the mountains.”
“Not anymore. We have him.”
“We? And who would we be?”
“The ISP Guard. Some ladies I’ve been training for times just like these. Last night after we came down the hill, I met with the team leaders, gave ’em the location, suspected enemy strength, and they had a plan within the hour. I expect to hear from them any time now. Mission accomplished.”
“So the ISP has a military wing?” I asked. I would go along with the joke.
“I’d put them up against Special Forces troops any day. Jack, what do you really need to have an effective fighting force? I’ll tell you. You need weapons, motivation, and intelligence, I mean the information kind. These ladies have all the motivation in the world, we supply the best intelligence available, and I’ve been able to find a few weapons here and there.”
“I’ll bet you have. So you’ve trained your own guerilla army now. That’s just great.”
“They know the strengths and weaknesses of their opponents better than any troops in the world. They’re motivated because they have zero alternatives. None. And they’re fighting to get their own country.” Gearheardt sat down beside me.
“Jack, imagine you’re seventeen and some greasy bastard is beating you and getting ready to rape you. But you know if you can just get to an ISP unit, you have a chance to get to Cuba and a whole new life. One of the things that keep these women down now is they have no place o go.”
“I think it’s a bit more complicated than that, Gearheardt. I’m just saying the impracticality is staggering. Forget it. This is silly.”
I was now fully aware that Gearheardt was 100% serious. But being serious didn’t solve any of the problems with his scheme. I was afraid that he had misled hundreds or thousands of poor women around the world.
Goodbye Mexico Page 21
