Authors: Robert W. Walker
Cuba Blue (45 page)
“
Colonel
Peña?” spluttered Latoya, his eyes wide, every word, every slight he’d ever perpetrated in Peña’s presence replaying in his mind.
Benilo and Tomaso gaped at one another in silence, but knew enough to remain silent.
Peña stood and said, “Presidente, it is entirely true—all that’s been said in this room is true. But, we have no hard proof yet, but when Detective Aguilera returns from Santiago, I’m sure what we have will be irrefutable.” After delivering these words, he relaxed but only slightly.
“This is not the news I wanted to hear from you. Are you certain Colonel?”
“There is no doubt.”
“It will ruin the image of Cuba. The bastard.”
“It’s treason against the state, Presidente.”
Benilo chimed in. “That’s an understatement.”
Tomaso added, “Crimes against foreigners. Crimes against Cubanos.”
“Three bodies stolen from my care!”
Latoya declared, “Secret Police corrupted. Murder and attempted murder of PNR officers.”
“Worst of all,” said Tomaso, “more people are at risk until Arias is locked up.”
“And his operation dissolved,” Peña added.
Benilo picked it up here. “Imagine when the world community learns that Cuban insiders have been selling medical secrets to a Canadian pharmaceutical company. Secrets only the Minister of Health controls.”
“Not to mention the cover-up that began with the disappearing Canadian woman and Americans,” added Tomaso.
The more they said, the darker Castro’s features became. His face a pinched mask of anger, he looked ready to explode. He paced, his legs stiff, wooden, his mind sharp and cunning as always. Even after all these years, Tomaso and Benilo recognized the unmistakable body language; it meant someone must pay.
Fidel raised his hand and was about to speak when the doors burst open and Qui Aguilera, struggling with a secretary that she finally pushed to the floor, entered. JZ followed, helping the secretary to her feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” shouted Castro.
“It’s my daughter, Detective Aguilera, General!” shouted Tomaso.
“The detective who kept this case alive,” added Peña.
“She uncovered the truth well before the rest of us,” said Benilo, coming to Qui’s defense.
“And she’s been a target since,” added Sergio.
“Presidente, you’ve got to listen to me!” pleaded Qui. “I have evidence of a horrible wrong in this camera.” She came forward and placed the camera on his desk. “A wrong that can no longer be ignored.”
“What is this evidence?”
“Damning evidence, sir. And, more in Santiago going as far back as the Revolucion.”
“Enough! No more talk until I see the photos.” Herding them them inside a small dining room, he ordered his aides to bring them lunch and keep them there. He strode off to have the film developed.
Two hours later
The meal finished, they watched Fidel enter the room, dismiss his aides, and begin to lay Qui’s photos across the table. He paused to look at each before positioning the next photo. When all were arranged, he lifted a single photo, the one of JZ brandishing an ancient sword in the cave. “Interesting weapon, Mr Zayas. Are you a collector?”
Surprised in spite of himself that he was known by name, JZ replied, “Yes, it broke my heart to leave them there.”
Fidel nodded. “Before we go any further, Mr. Zayas, precisely what is your interest in all of this aside from treasue hunting?”
JZ replied, “El Presidente, in the interest of justice, I’ve worked closely with Detective Aguilera to uncover what precisely happened the night two American doctors were killed in Havana.”
“So Dr. Benilo informed me earlier. You are here to see justice carried out. Cuban justice.”
“I am indeed, sir.”
“I vouch for his sincerity,” Qui jumped in. “I owe him my life.”
“Then your only interest in all this is to determine who’s responsible for the deaths of the two American doctors, Mr. Zayas?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t work for the CIA?” Fidel pointedly said to JZ.
JZ took a deep breath. He knew a lie would get him arrested, but he was unsure if the truth would not have the same result. “I write reports that I assume are read by the CIA, sir, same as all of us who work in the American Interest Section.”
“Interest…a handsome word for spying.”
“So I’ve been told, repeatedly by almost every Cuban who learns where I work. Let me assure you I’m no spy.”
“I’m not sure I can trust the word of any American. The history between our countries has proven that lies are as common as maggots. How do I know that this is not some elaborate CIA plot against me?”
JZ realized only now the enormity of Fidel’s paranoia with respect to anything American, including him. “Everyone in this room can vouch for my interest and integrity throughout these eunfortunate circumstances.”
“I tell you, Presidente,” Qui burst out, “the CIA is the least of your worries. The rot and stench of this scandal will shake Cuba to its foundations if not handled properly.”
Fidel stared long and hard at Qui as if seeing her for the first time. “You remind me of someone, Aguilera,” he said to her, his long, bony finger pointing. “Someone I’ve always admired.”
“Who, sir?” asked Qui.
“Someone who had a raging fire within and once believed in fairytale endings,” countered Fidel. “
Me
as a young man…when I was in university. A time when I felt invincible.”
This silenced the room as everyone waited and watched, none sure of Fidel’s next move. Suddenly, he tapped the table. “Tell me the story behind these. Leave nothing out.”
Staring at the photos, Qui began tbe story with the discovery of the bodies on the Sanabela. Each of the others told their part of the tale as the afternoon lengthened. Qui finished with, “General Cavuto Ruiz is dead, and Colonel Alfonso Gutierrez, badly burned, is in custody for his part in all this. Colonel Emanuel Cordova in Santiago is keeping Gutierrez under an alias in the hospital.”
“Ahhh…yes, Cordova,” said Fidel sitting at the head of the table staring at the images spread before him. “Strange coincidence. General Ruiz had him on a government watch list.
Fidel Castro looked Qui up and down. “Tomaso, she is indeed your daughter. Has your tenacity. You were always the most meticulous and careful of us.” He glanced as Tomaso. “Some things never change.”
“Hmm…I see more of her mother than me in her. I think, it’s stubbornness more than anything.” He chuckled.
“Traits that make for a helluva detective,” Benilo commented.
Taking up another photo, Fidel rubbed his chin and said, “So the Lake of Blood was well named after all.”
“Yes. Appears so, I’m afraid,” replied JZ.
“So many died,” commented Tomaso.
Benilo, in an angry tone, added, “And for no cause but greed.”
“It’s extremely sensitive information,” said Peña.
“We cannot allow it to get out without careful
consideration
,” added Benilo. “It’s going to be shocking enough as it is…like a Hollywood movie.”
“Murder and money,” agreed JZ.
It was the images of the Black Madonna that gained most purchase with Fidel. Qui felt heartened that he’d immediately grasped the significance of these photos.
Fidel, staring the whole time at the strange, underwater, otherworldly look of the real Black Madonna, commented, “Perhaps, I will call on you again if the need arises. You have all been very helpful and Cuba appreciates your patriotism and your discretion in this matter.” Stopping to stare at JZ, he added, “Even you, Mr Zayas, our prodigal son.” His eye then fell on Qui and he pointedly said, “In future, should I ever need your help, Quiana Magdalena Aguilera, I will call you.”
The president of Cuba abruptly stood, gathered the photos, his intense gaze once again fell on each of his visitors. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will take it all under advisement.” With this cryptic remark, he left without another word. Two aides immediately entered the room and silently gestured, guiding Qui and the others to the exit.
The following day in Miramar
Arturo, Tomaso, and Yuri sat in the mariposa garden, sipping drinks and congratulating Qui on solving the case of the dead foreign doctors. They discussed the disposition of the disparate elements of the mystery.
Benilo said, “Humberto Arias has completely disappeared. No one’s heard from him.”
“After fifty plus years,” Tomaso commented, “He’s finally paying for his war crimes.”
Qui added, “As well as the deaths of my three foreign doctors, Estaban, and Tony.” Silently she acknowledged her success in not failing the dead, a fear she’d had at the beginning of this tangled case.
“He’s a member of that
elite
club called the disappeareds,” insisted Yuri. “Finally achieved the status he so well deserved.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Helluva a thing Qui, that Esteban was killed simply to cover Arias’s sale of Cuban medical secrets.”
“But who’d have guessed that Montoya would’ve been illegally dealing in medical drugs?” Benilo added, “The man seemed toe the line.”
“Prim and straitlaced, he was.” Tomaso added.
“Must have been a serious liability to Arias,” Benilo replied.
“Word is that Arias had Hilito killed for the same reason,” said Yuri, “to cover his tracks.”
“Some detective I am,” commented Qui. “I never suspected Montoya of anything. He was so obsessed about rules. But I was onto Hilito…only too late.”
Patting her shoulder, Benilo remarked, “Qui, his death came was hours before you arrived.”
“No criminal charges have been leveled at Alejandro Valdes,” Yuri commented. “None of the dirt’s sticking to him.”
“Cunning man,” replied Qui. “Orchestrated Arias’s downfall…took years to realize his goal.
“Revenge has never been so perfectly executed,” Tomaso observed.
“Like a dessert Riesling,” stated Benilo. “A wine aged to perfection. After years of investment, the payoff must be indeed sweet.”
“How often in this life are we treated to
real
justice,” commented Yuri.
“Agreed, it’s a rare commodity,” Qui added putting down her glass. “And without Alejandro’s having peppered the trail, we’d never have caught Arias. For now as far as I’m concerned the scales are balanced, but I’ll keep my eye on him.”
Tomaso said, “And Alfonso’s future can be summed up in a single word:
disgrace.
”
“Disgrace to him personally,” Qui added, “as well as disgrace on the entire PNR.”
Benilo sarcastically replied with a smile, “That’s nothing new.”
Yuri added, “Disgrace in a communist country is nothing! It’ll be ignored under the banner of reform with new faces. Politics as usual.”
“Remember, Qui?” asked Benilo raising his glass in a mock toast. “I said politics is everything in Cuba.”
“This case has proven you right.”
Finishing his drink, Benilo stated, “Cagey how Fidel leaked the information about your
discovery
of the Black Madonna.”
“Yeah, that news release supposedly from of the university at Santiago was quiet a piece of work. Fidel’s speechwriters musta worked overtime to make it so thoroughly ambiguous.”