by Glen Carter
29
MIAMI, FLORIDA
Malloy was enjoying himself, which was fine as far as Jack was concerned. Malloy was a hero. It was his moment
They were eating breakfast at a diner four blocks from their hotel. Malloy ordered the special—three eggs, sausages, hash browns, and a side of pancakes smothered in blueberry sauce.
Jack watched him eat, deciding the hero’s head trauma had no impact on his appetite.
Malloy lifted a cup to his lips and swallowed. “You not feeling well?”
“I’m fine,” Jack replied, staring forlornly at a bagel slathered with cream cheese.
Malloy pulled a napkin, and wiped a splotch of blueberry juice from his chin before giving Jack another once over. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.Thanks for asking.”
“You’re welcome.”
Malloy picked the place because diners were the only place for a decent breakfast.
“This place reminds me of home,” he said between mouthfuls. “Except for that guy over there with the high-tops and chains.”
“How’s your head?”
“My head? Head’s good,” Malloy replied. A smile creased his face as he watched the kid in chains walk to the jukebox.
The kid plunked a few coins into the jukebox and a second later the diner filled with something jazzy.
“Kids got taste,” Malloy said. “Maybe I got him wrong.”
“It was the chains.”
Malloy thought about that. “I’ll never figure them out. The hair, the getup.”
“Probably represent the burden of society’s rush to false judgement.”
“Smart ass.”
Jack chuckled.
“We have to talk,” Malloy said without pause.
“We are talking.”
“I mean about the Rasconi photo. Something doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” Jack said.
“Here’s the thing,” Malloy dove right in. “If I had just shot the President, I sure as hell wouldn’t be sticking around the crime scene. Not a chance. I’d be bugging out of there as fast as I could. Yet Rasconi is doing the opposite. He sticks around, embeds himself within the crowd. That left him vulnerable.”
Jack thought for a moment. “I hear you. But what if…” A pause.
“Well?”
“What if Rasconi wasn’t alone,” Jack said. “If someone was there with him, that someone could have spirited away the murder weapon.” Jack knew Malloy’s next question before he asked it.
“Then why wouldn’t Rasconi have just disappeared along with his accomplice and his rifle?” Malloy smiled thinly at his logic.
Jack was ready with the answer. “First of all, you have to understand, Rasconi is extremely damaged goods. Betrayed once. Captured at the Bay of Pigs, and then his family is murdered. He blames himself. In fact it drives him mad. But he also feels screwed big time by the people who were supposed to be watching his back. He’s got no trust anymore, for anyone, including whoever was with him on the other side of the stockade fence.”
Malloy nodded. “So he goes rogue.”
Jack continued. “When the deed is done, Rasconi dumps the rifle and evacuates the scene in an act of self-preservation. He knows he’s got a better chance that way. It may have been paranoia on Rasconi’s part, but in his tortured mind, it was his only way to survive another deadly betrayal.”
Malloy was thinking. After a minute, “So, Helena has seen the deed, and snaps her picture once Rasconi is on the grassy knoll and safely away from the stockade fence and whoever was there with him.”
“Precisely.”
Malloy excitedly stabbed at air. “Then there’s Ruby’s hit on Oswald. It’s possible that both of the Dealey shooters would have been marked for death. Oswald and Rasconi.”
“Very possible,” Jack replied, aware that much of what they were discussing was conjecture and maybe pure fantasy. “So in order to stay alive,” he added anyway, “Rasconi vanishes into the murky world of special ops. The CIA. Maybe a freelance career. Whoever needs him.”
Malloy was hooked. “If they had planned to kill Rasconi along with Oswald they would have had a hell of a time finding his trail, especially if he fell in with the CIA.”
“I think you’re right,” Jack said. “Remember what Oswald said about being a patsy. No one believes the Warren commission. Rasconi would have had the best angle. Maybe it was intended to be his kill, and then the chance to eliminate him afterwards disappeared when he did.”
Malloy nodded once more. “So where’s Rasconi now?”
Jack shook his head slowly. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Another moment lapsed, during which neither man spoke. Jack poked at his bagel for a while and then looked up. “We don’t know where Rasconi is,” he said, “but we do know the identity of the man who was closest to him during his months in that Cuban prison. And I’ve already located him.”
“I believe it was Sevier who located you, Jack,” Malloy corrected, before turning solemn.
“What’s on your mind,” Jack said.
“Just the very real possibility that Pabon was murdered because of the visit we paid him yesterday. Maybe someone didn’t like the subject of our research.”
“And?”
Malloy looked at him grimly. “And the drive-by was meant for us. I’d say that makes Roberto Sevier a person of interest.”
Two minutes later, they paid their bill and left the diner.
30
Thank you for doing this with no notice.”
“I don’t have much time.”
“We’ll only need a few minutes.”
“I’m afraid, it’s all I have. You’re lucky to have caught me.”
Kaitlin adjusted her skirt, and looked over her shoulder. “Rolling?”
Seth nodded.
Kaitlin began. “How old were you when you immigrated to the United States?”
“I have to think about that for a moment. Let me see….”
“We have lots of video tape. Take all the time you need.”
He smiled warmly, but looked at his watch. “Eighteen or nineteen, I believe.”
“Just a kid.”
“Yes, only a boy. Full of…”
“Full of hope?”
“It’s not what I was going to say. But, yes.That’s true also. Full of hope.”
Off camera, Maria wrote something.
Kaitlin continued. “How did you feel, leaving everything you knew behind? It must have been very difficult.”
“Even at that age, my life was full of hardship.”
He didn’t look like a man who came from hardship. A fine suit, nice haircut, an expensive smile.
“Tell me about your family.”
“There was just my mother and father.”
“An only child?”
“Regretfully, yes.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what did your father do?”
“He was a businessman.”
Capitalist. “Though, you say your life was full of hardship. Does that mean the business wasn’t successful?”
“On the contrary. The business was doing quite well—up to a point. The problem was my parents weren’t communists, and because of that they were singled out.”
Singled out. What exactly did that mean? Kaitlin needed more but the guy was making her work for it. “Singled out? How?”
“They hated communism and they said so.”
“Your parents were dissidents.”
“Not active dissidents, but yes, they were outspoken—and to the new regime they were a thorn.”
“And you?”
“I wasn’t political and I wanted to escape. I had limited resources, but I was able to find my way aboard a fishing boat. We came to Florida.”
An announcement interrupted. A flight was being called. The man checked his watch again.
“We won’t take too much longer.”
“Thank you.”
/> “How did it feel to be free?”
“You can’t imagine how it feels to lose your freedom. Have it taken away from you. My father couldn’t bear it. His rage couldn’t be contained. In the end it destroyed him. Destroyed them both. He was arrested at one of Castro’s speeches with a revolver in his pocket. Of course, he was tried and convicted of conspiring against the state. My mother was waiting for him in the car. They were executed.”
Kaitlin’s breath caught. Through the corner of her eye, she watched Maria jot something down in her notebook. A time code, no doubt. It was a good clip. A few seconds were spent in silence. Then. “So now, the United States is about to mend relations with Cuba, the same country that murdered your parents.”
“When you put it that way it sounds very distasteful.”
“What other way could it be?”
“What you really want to know is, do I feel angry, vengeful, upset, because we’re about to embrace the bastards who killed my mother and father.”
Another good clip. Maria noted it.
“That would be a fair question, don’t you think?” Kaitlin gave a sideways glance at Seth. He nodded.
The interview subject considered it. “Pilious Ortega didn’t execute my parents. Fidel Castro did. When he died, he was judged by a higher power than any found on earth. I have no argument with Ortega. He’s a reformer who believes in human rights. I don’t think he has the propensity for cold-blooded murder. If he’s sincere in his plans to democratize Cuba, he has my full support. In fact, he’ll have more than that. I’m already looking at investment opportunities.”
Kaitlin knew better than to ask for specifics. The vultures had been circling Cuba for weeks now; joint ventures were being announced on a daily basis. An American oil conglomerate was about to acquire exploration leases for half the deep-sea blocks in the North Cuba Basin. Nine billion barrels of oil could go a long way towards reducing America’s dependence on far-flung oil. Researchers from both countries were preparing “significant” exchanges of science and technology. Artists and musicians were reaching out to their new Latino friends. Everyone was quivering with anticipation, like new lovers who couldn’t wait to hop into bed for the first time.
Still, many were infuriated by rapprochement, and bitterly opposed it. Ortega was a fraud, they claimed, and Denton was a dupe. Someone had even made the comparison with Neville Chamberlain, the British prime minister who had proclaimed “peace for our time” after meeting with German Chancellor Adolf Hitler.
Kaitlin regrouped. “There have been violent protests and bloodshed. As a successful businessman, other Cuban Americans listen to what you have to say. Are you prepared to publicly support Pilious Ortega’s new initiatives—and rapprochement?”
“I believe I just did.”
Kaitlin smiled. “Yes, you did.”
Overhead, a voice called general boarding.
The subject looked a final time at his watch. “I’m sorry but my flight is about to depart, and the departure gate is a bit of a march.”
Kaitlin shook his hand. “I appreciate your time.”
Seth moved in to remove the mic.
Maria thanked the subject and led him to the door. Then he was gone.
31
Jack watched Malloy do his thing. No gun. No badge. Just a guy wanting to see theman at the top.
“And you are...?”The security guard placed his hands on his hips.Waited.
Malloywas readywith the lie.“Hospitality AccreditationBureau,” he said. “There are some issues we need to discuss.”
“Mister?”
“Malloy. Ed.”
He wrote the name on a clipboard, ignoring Jack.
“I’ll need just a fewminutes withMr. Sevier,”Malloy said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“We nevermake them. It’s part of the way we work.”
The security guard nodded as if he knewwhatMalloywas talking about.
Sevier Holdings was headquartered in a blue stucco building, three storeys high with white columns beneath a broad portico. They were in the lobby, a cozy area with leather couches, glass and brass tables, and a trickling stone fountain beneath small palms.The security station had room for two guards and a few security monitors mounted on a horseshoe shaped desk. A radio squawked on the security guard’s belt. He pulled the mic down from his shoulder. “Go ahead.”
“Base. Kowalczyk.Third floor. Checking in”
“Thanks, Brian. Keep your eyes open.” The guard twisted the volume. “We’ve had some unwanted visitors,” he said.
“What kind a visitors?” It was none of Malloy’s business, but the guy apparently didn’t know any better.
“Yesterday. We found two scum bags on the third floor, wandering around the executive offices.”
“Nice catch,” Malloy said.
“Hey, is that why you guys are here?”
Malloy shifted. Touched the place where Jack guessed he used to holster his weapon. Pulled out a black notebook. “What’s your name, son?”
“Buckner.”
Malloy wrote it down. “Security is one of the things we keep an eye on. Lots of pretty women in your hotels count on guys like you keeping the scum bags out. Do you have any idea how many sexual assaults happen in hotels in this country?”
“No, sir.”
“Lots.”
The security guard nodded his head, a sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. “We did our job. Mr. Sevier didn’t have no problem. He took care of the two trespassers himself.”
“How’s that?’
“He walked them out. Brian offered to ride the elevator down with them, but Mr. Sevier had things under control. Though he didn’t look too pleased.”
“What time did this happen?”
Buckner made a show of extracting his own notebook. Flipped it open. “It was just after 1 p.m.”
Malloy turned and walked over to the security desk. Bent forward to look at the surveillance monitors. “Buckner. What kind a coverage do you have here?”
Buckner walked around the desk and took his seat. “Four cameras. One out back, one on the executive floor, and two out front. We told them we need one in the elevator too. That’s coming.”
Jack joined them. He knew where Malloy was headed and was impressed with the man’s skill.
“One o’clock?”
“A few minutes after,” Buckner replied.
“You keep tape, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
What were the chances, Jack wondered.
Malloy must have wondered, too. “The tapes. How far back do they go?”
Buckner’s eyebrows bunched. He wasn’t getting it yet. “We’ve got four machines,” he said, pointing to the video stack beneath the desk. “Each tape is good for six hours.”
Jack looked at his wrist. A few minutes to go. He tapped his watch loud enough for Malloy to hear.
Malloy confirmed the time and slapped his notebook on the desk. “Buckner we need you to do something.”
Buckner waited.
“Pull that tape now, Mr. Buckner.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m asking you to pull that record tape right now.”
Buckner chuckled. Arms crossed now. Feet flat on the floor. “That’s not possible.”
Malloy gave Jack a sideways look. Slowly picking up his notebook. “What’s your first name, Buckner?”
“Allan, sir.”
“Well, Allan. My associate here. His name is Griffen.”
Jack gave Buckner a stern nod.
Malloy continued. “Griffen needs to see that video tape because last week a hotel owner on South Beach was held hostage while his wife was forced at gunpoint to empty their bank account. Two thugs got away with twenty-five large, without breaking a sweat. Our intelligence suggests they may have picked another target.”
“Jesus,” Buckner said. “Come to think of it, I didn’t see Mr. Sevier come in today.” Buckner reached for his radio. “Brian. Base.”
“Go ahead, base.”
“Brian, can you check the boss’s office. See if he’s been in yet.”
“What’s up?”
“Just do it.”
Jack tapped his watch again. About three minutes to go before the video of Sevier escorting his two visitors from the building got recorded over.
Malloy looked like he was about to jump the guy and punch the tape out himself. “Stop the recording, son. We’re talking about evidence here. Maybe withholding.”
Buckner didn’t flinch. A second later the radio coughed. “Base. Brian.”
“Go.”
“Mr. Sevier hasn’t been seen or heard from all morning.”
Buckner’s face turned to worry.
“Stop the tape, Allan.”
Allan hit a button. The tape ejected smoothly. For a moment it looked like he didn’t know what to do with it.
“Player?”
Buckner slipped it back into the machine and pressed play.
The tape flickered to life, revealing an empty hallway outside the executive offices. A few seconds later the shot changed to the back parking lot and then the front of the building. Then the executive offices again. Two figures had magically appeared. Rough looking. Hispanics, Jack thought, or may be black. It was hard to tell because of the picture quality. The shots cycled through until the tape returned to the executive floor again. This time the two were joined by someone else. It was Sevier. Jack recognized him from their meeting the day before at Maximo Gomez Park. They disappeared into the elevator and then the shots cycled through once more. A moment later the view was the front of the building.
“Freeze it!” Malloy said.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“You had what, three seconds in all.”
They were in the car. Headed for a meeting, which had taken only a minute to set up once they’d finished with Buckner.
“May be less. But that was enough. I made that shit box yesterday at the drive-by and after seeing the surveillance tape I’m a hundred percent. It was the same car, Jack. You saw it too.”
Jack thought for a moment. “Well, I guess we know what that means.”
Buckner’s videotape was a treasure. Sevier could be seen exiting the building with his two visitors. A second later the car pulled up. Small beaten down import, disposable if you needed to dump it after shooting up Little Havana. The two Hispanics. Jack could see them more clearly now as they jumped into the car and drove off. Sevier stood there stiffly. Arms at his sides. A moment later he walked off camera. Not much tape. But it was enough.
