Cuba blue

by Robert W. Walker

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If I had anything to do with their deaths, I certainly wouldn’t be drawing attention to Arias or by association myself. I’m his right hand man nowadays.”

  “And soon to be his son-in-law, I hear. Authorities will assume you’re part of it, that you share the guilt.”

  “No way. I’ve got it under control, Pasqual.”

  “Tell me the whole story, from the beginning.”

  Alejandro shook his head. “No…the less you know, the safer you remain, just as with Rita and Father Cevalos. So stay out of it. Rest assured, Luis and I will finish this business.”

  “Can you please just reassure me…promise me…”

  With a hand on his brother’s shoulder, Alejandro said. “I had nothing to do with those murders in Havana.”

  “You just saw to it they came to light.”

  “Which puts me on the right side of the law, Pasqual.”

  “For a change.”

  Alejandro laughed. “Thanks for your confidence.”

  “I’m trying to understand. Luis tells me that black-hearted Arias thinks of you as a son, and you’re engaged to his daughter?”

  “I know how it looks; even more, I know how it feels.”

  “How is that, Alejandro? How does it feel to deceive this woman, who was not even born when El Cobre happened?”

  “Hmmm…I see you’ve been asking a lot of questions as usual.”

  “How can you possibly think that a liaison with Arias’s family can turn out well?”

  “You may not understand this, but I love Reyna.”

  “Since when have you had room in your heart for anything or anyone but vengeance and nightmares?”

  “She’s special… innocent. She knows nothing of her father’s past or his current illicit activities.” Alejandro smiled, the first genuine smile Pasqual had seen in years. “You know something strange, Gabriel?”

  “What’s that?”

  “She knows nothing of my past either.”

  “I’m sure you left that out.”

  “And another thing, Reyna loves me.”

  “But it would be a marriage based on pretense.”

  “Pretense is better than the truth of my tangled, ugly past.”

  “She’ll find out someday…you know that. And if your plan is successful? What then? Her father is brought down by the man she loves…thinks she knows. How strong is she? How long before love is lost to her father’s ashes…to her grief and tears?”

  “God, you’ve not changed. Always preaching.”

  “What do you expect? I’m a priest!”

  “Look, by time Arias is under arrest and awaiting trial and execution…by then, Reyna will love me without reservation, and it won’t matter.”

  “You’re projecting, Alejandro! Still predicting people’s behaviors based on that interior…or rather inferior crystal ball of yours.”

  The brothers went to opposite ends of the room, each having grown red-faced, fists clenched. Pasqual was the first to unclench his hands and speak. “Look, Alejandro, even you can’t believe that lies and deceit can forge a cornerstone for anything lasting.”

  “Perhaps your third-rate Jesuit psychology works for most- Father Pasqual — but for me, Reyna? She’s different, unique…an angel…innocent…pure and-”

  “I can’t believe it, AliBaba, you’re babbling over a woman!”

  “-and we can overcome any obstacle.”

  “Hmmm…first time I’ve ever heard you speak the word we. Perhaps you do love her in your own strange-”

  “Hold on.”

  “You gotta admit, Ali, ’til now you’ve self-serving life.”

  “No argument there.”

  “Among the anti-Fidel crowd, you’ve become a legend even if most don’t know your name or face.”

  “Notoriety is not my aim, and I’ll hear no more of it, Pasqual.”

  “But-”

  “Ahhh! End of discussion, brother.”

  “But Luis tells me that you’re in Santiago for a reason.”

  “He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut!”

  “Just don’t do anything stupid that’ll get you killed.”

  Alejandro laughed at this. “You’ve no idea the care I take with my safety-a thing I prize, especially now with Reyna in my life.”

  “Safe…sure. This is all about seeing Arias to his grave. It’s always been your first and only obsession. You’ve become as cold as the evil you chase. Admit it.”

  With a serious look in his eyes, his mouth twisting into a half-smile, Alejandro calmly replied, “You’re wrong. I’ve changed since Reyna.”

  “I’ve long ago stopped worrying about your life ending on a misstep, Ali.”

  “Then what’re you saying?”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “I’m concerned about your immortal soul, Alejandro.”

  “Then keep praying for me, and add Reyna.”

  “Ahhh, brother, you’re like a thorn in my side.”

  “Yeah…the cross you bear.”

  “And gladly so! You saved my life as much as Father Cevalos. Without you, I’d’ve never learned about life, about passion-”

  “Nor about women-before you took your vows! Remember?” Alejandro chuckled. “I love you in spite of our differences.”

  “Right…you’re right, Ali.”

  “OK…agreed…”

  “We see one another so seldom.”

  “Let’s not fight.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Hmmm…look, I didn’t come alone.”

  “Really?”

  “Some people’ve come a long way to talk to you.”

  “Detective Aguilera, Mr. Zayas, I presume?”

  “I might’ve known you’re still steps ahead of me.”

  “Saw you through the window. But you were right not to bring anyone up without an invitation. Bring ’em up now, but be sure no one is shadowing you.”

  “Just like that? No argument?”

  “None. I was, after all, expecting them,” Alejandro lied.

  “Ahhh…yes, of course, Luis. That man knows how to play both ends against the middle. Are you sure you can trust him not to sell you out…to Arias?”

  “Fortunately, he hates Arias as much as I do. I don’t know why.”

  “I do know why, but it’s from the confessional. Still, are you sure his hatred’s enough to make him forego a large payday?”

  “Luis loves Rita, respects you, and he knows what Arias did to us all.” With a grim look of determination, he added, “I completely trust him to do the right thing.”

  Pasqual considered this for a moment, and nodded. “Over the last day or so, I’ve had to revise my opinion of Luis. He’s got more sides and angles than a rough-cut stone.”

  Alejandro thoughtfully said, “Cevalos once told me that as a young man, our father apprenticed as a stone cutter with a master jeweler. Under his artistry and skill, a rough-cut stone became a gem.”

  “I don’t remember anything about our father.”

  “I do remember his kissing our mother and hugging us when he came home, but not much else.”

  Pasqual saw that familiar glimmer of emotion in his brother’s eye, but as always Alejandro quickly killed all sentimentality and changed the subject while looking at his watch. “It’s getting late.”

  “Late for whom?”

  “I’ll see Aguilera and Zayas now.”

  37

  Qui Aguilera and JZ pushed past the unlocked door to Alejandro’s room. They found him standing on the balcony overlooking Santiago bay. Without turning to face them, he said, “Have you two ever heard of the Lago de Sangre?”

  JZ murmured his translation, “The Lake of Blood?”

  Alejandro turned where he stood in the doorway, the wind lifting the curtains about him, creating a red cloak around him. “It’s where my father’s body lies,” came the admission. “Along with
the other men who were murdered at El Cobre.”

  “Where the lock guided us,” JZ said.

  “Actually, I suspect, where Mr. Valdes guided us,” corrected Qui cocking her head to one side and quizzically studying him. “The unseen helping hand?”

  “Very good, Lieutenant Detective.” Alejandro bowed slightly. “A belated welcome to my Santiago, Quiana Magdalena Aguilera, Mr. Julio Roberto Zayas.”

  “Ahhh…Mr. Alejandro Carlos Pasqual y Valdes does his homework,” Qui fired back.

  “Touche!”

  “What is this about the Lake of Blood?” asked JZ.

  “Are you referring to the lake below the chapel?” asked Qui. “Near the basilica?”

  “Yes…that night many years ago, I saw lights in the distance, far from the fire. I was a child…not knowing then that I was watching my father’s burial on the heels of my mother’s murder.”

  “And you never told Pasqual?” she asked.

  “To what purpose? Besides, I didn’t learn the truth of it until recently myself-and this from a dying man who had no reason to lie.”

  “This dying man?” asked Qui. “Was he one of the soldiers?”

  “Yes, Arias’s second-in-command as he told me over drinks. Poor devil felt abandoned in his old age. Blamed the cancer on his guilty conscience…said it ate him up over the years.”

  “The cancer or his conscience?” asked JZ, not expecting an answer.

  “He said he’d once been a good man, an honorable fellow, but that was before he was sent here to Santiago under the command of a man whose own troops called him El Diablo.”

  “Just following orders?” commented JZ. “The Nazi excuse for carnage.”

  “History repeats itself, Mr. Zayas. Who better than an American knows this?”

  “That old soldier, why should we believe you didn’t kill him?” asked Qui, skeptical.

  “I heard you were direct, Lieutenant. Luis speaks highly of you.” The handsome Alejandro strode deeper into the room, lifted a glass from the table, then pulled a wine bottle from ice that’d melted the night before. He drained what was left of the Cabernet into his glass. Toasting the air, he replied, “How the man died? Unimportant really. Whether he died naturally or with a little help, he was close to dying anyway and in great pain.”

  Qui felt the cold cunning of this man chill the room, despite the heat and humidity pouring in from the open balcony. The curtains continued to play in and out of the entryway, ghostly, red streamers reaching out to snatch at the living.

  “No, Pasqual doesn’t know about our father,” continued Alejandro as Qui studied the features so like Pasqual’s. “No one does, not even Father Cevalos who thinks the rumors of Blood Lake are just that…rumors and superstitions.”

  “Pasqual has no memory of his father, does he?” she asked.

  “None but what I’ve told him. In many ways, Pasqual is innocent. As for my father, he was a lot like Pasqual. A kind man, deeply committed to his beliefs, or so say those few who remember him.”

  “Perhaps you are not so different,” suggested Qui. “From where I stand, I’d say you’re just as committed to your beliefs.”

  He ignored her implication, sipping at his Cabernet. “As I said, facts spilling from the lips in a deathbed confession. Better than words from the living, whispered in one of Cevalos’s confessionals, I think.”

  “Qui,” began JZ, “we’ve found a much needed ally here, one who can drop the last pieces in place.”

  “You think so, Mr. Zayas? Perhaps you’re more astute than we give you Americans credit for.” His dark eyes stared at JZ. “Then, again, perhaps you presume too much.”

  “Is JZ right, Mr. Valdes?” she asked. “Can you answer our questions?”

  “More than you may wish to know, but I have stipulations before I answer any question.”

  “And your demands?”

  “I require absolute anonymity and immunity, Lieutenant Detective,” he announced. “No one, here in Cuba,” he paused to look at JZ, “or in your respective institutions in America, are to know I have talked to you about these matters. No one.”

  “I can grant you both so far as the American Interest Section is concerned, and I’m certain there’ll be no problems with the other ‘institutions’ as you put it. I have full authority to get answers, and I can assure you, if you help us, we’ll help you.”

  “I want it in writing,” countered Alejandro, “with your signature affixed, Mr. Zayas.”

  “Done,” JZ said firmly. “Do you have pen and paper?”

  “On the desk.”

  “Not so fast,” said Qui as JZ sat at the desk and began scribbling. “I don’t have such authority; I’m only a PNR detective, and I don’t trust my colonel as far as I can throw him. In fact, I don’t know who I can trust.”

  “You can trust Colonel Emanuel Cordova of the Santiago PNR. He’s a rare man, incorruptible.”

  “And the SP?” Qui asked.

  “Leave the SP to eat itself alive within the next day, maybe two.”

  “You know something we don’t know?”

  Alejandro looked at her, nodded, and smiled, “I have many secrets. Not all of them can be shared.” He tipped his wine glass at her, “Your father is right to call you ‘little bird,’ Lieutenant Detective. It suits.” Downing the last of the wine, he continued, "Do you know the American bird, the Peregrine?”

  “No. And what has it to do with this case?”

  “The Peregrine falcon, although small, is quite ferocious. At hunt, it can dive at extreme speeds, 200 miles per hour, headfirst, catching its prey completely unaware.”

  JZ, signed paper in hand, smiled at the apt comparison. “So if Qui is the falcon, who is the prey?”

  “Our little bird is not sure she can trust me yet, Mr. Zayas. She thinks I want her tethered, that I feed her morsels and not the whole kill. So we will not trade facts at this time.”

  Qui glared at the man and repeated, “I do not have authority to make such an offer of silence, of anonymity to you. There is no one I can get such assurances from.”

  “No one to trust, you mean. Then, you must make such assurances to me personally, Lieutenant Detective. You are an honorable woman.”

  “You know nothing of me. You and I are strangers.”

  “But I do know enough about you, Ms. Aguilera, to trust your word.”

  “The SP has a file on me? Is that what you’re saying?” Qui retorted, tired of the man’s insolence.

  “ I have a file on you, as I do on Sergio Latoya, on your father, even on Dr. Arturo Benilo. My private files.” He looked at JZ and continued, “and yes, one on you too, Mr. Zayas. Interesting history you have.”

  Qui felt a cold dread seep from her gut through her veins. “Are you threatening me…us, Mr. Valdes?”

  Alejandro turned to JZ and smiled. “You like this one? Her feathers ruffle easily.”

  JZ replied somewhat testily, “Like the lieutenant, I’m not one for cat and mouse games, Mr. Valdes.” He held out the signed note. “Do we have a deal?”

  With a sudden turn of mood, Alejandro accepted the paper. “Of course, you’re right. No time for games, we must be about our business. This affair at the Forteleza is dangerous, and I might already be caught in a spider’s web.” Scanning the paper, he occasionally nodded. He then wrapped the note with his knuckles, saying, “Thank you Mr. Zayas.”

  Qui asked “What sort of danger?”

  “Without your written assurance,” he said, talking her arm and walking her to the door, “that’s not something I will discuss with you.” He opened the door and urged her out.

  When Qui objected, JZ said, “Let me handle this, Quiana. Like I said, I have authority to seal this bargain, and as you’ve admitted, you don’t.”

  Pushing her across the threshold, Alejandro added, “Here’s a parting gift for you, Lieutenant. Your boss bas been under scrutiny for time, and I predict that you won’t have to suffer him much longer.”

  A reluct
ant, frustrated, and now puzzled Qui glared at both men as the door closed in her face.

  Moments later, Alejandro closed the balcony doors and turned the bedside radio on. “Casa Grande has had the most extensive renovation…if you count the electronics.”

  “So the walls have ears.”

  “Our mutual circumstances dictate caution.” Alejandro waved in salutation to indicate the coffee setup on the nearby table.

  Helping himself to slices of fresh fruit, JZ settled in at the table.

  “Mr. Zayas, you must tell me how you managed to get Cavuto to blow the wrong boat. He spoke of a spectacular explosion. Even laughed about it in private last night.”

  “Ruiz blew a rowboat which we set adrift with the bomb and Luis’s Christmas tree lights,” explained JZ, finding that he liked this man, despite all the shades of gray about him.

  Chuckling, Alejandro joined JZ at the table. “So Cavuto made yet another mistake…a rowboat, he blew up a fucking rowboat!”

  Once the laughter faded, Alejandro said, “Now, I will tell you this, the man at the center of these murderers is Humberto Arias as I’m sure Father Cevalos or Pasqual has already told you.” Alejandro paused, his face now tight with anger. “Arias is the lowest form of life…scum.”

  JZ felt the depth of hatred for Arias that this man had carried all his life; it radiated outwards in palpable waves. “Yes, so we’ve been told. And I know how deadly this game is. You’re in danger too I assume.”

  “It’s an unstable playing field to say the least. Changes with the vagaries of Arias’s mood swings. And a warning, Zayas. Cavuto Ruiz is also here in Santiago.”

  “Ruiz? Does he know we’re alive and in Santiago?”

  “I don’t think so, but he has spies everywhere, and he’s here with Colonel Gutierrez-my soon to be brother-in-law. Should those two jackals learn you’re still breathing…you’ll both be hounded to an early grave.”

  “So is it Ruiz or the colonel we have to worry about?”

  “Both are Arias’s attack dogs carrying out orders neither really understands.”

  “I’ve had some dealings with Gutierrez. Seemed a useless bureaucrat.”

  “The man’s a poison toad who just looks harmless, but it’s Ruiz who’s as deadly as he looks. Still, the real monster here is Arias.”