“How receptive do you think Fidel will be to being woken up at this hour?”
Jack tried to sleep, but found it virtually impossible. By morning, he was just beginning to doze when the hotel came alive. After listening to the movement of hotel guests and the cheery voices of maids going about their business, he finally gave up on the idea. A cool shower helped him wake up before he put on a pair of cargo shorts and stepped out on his balcony. The day was hot, humid, and sunny.
“Can't sleep?” called Laura.
Jack saw Laura on her own balcony and waved her over. Breakfast was included at the hotel, but, not wanting to take a chance of the Russians seeing them, they ordered room service.
Later, from their balconies, they could see the sandy white beaches and azure colour of the sea beyond. Neither one was able to appreciate the magnificent beauty as they paced back and forth in the room, trying to walk off the stress that accumulated with each passing hour.
It was ten-thirty at night when Jack answered the knock on his door and let Donato inside.
“I apologize for keeping you both waiting,” said Donato. Jack noticed that Donato was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes said that he hadn't been to bed at all.
“That's okay, Donato,” said Jack. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the two chairs in the room while he sat on the bed.
“Anything happen with the Russians today?” asked Laura.
“They drank lots and picked up prostitutes. Nothing of importance. Also nothing of importance found in their rooms.”
“Too bad,” said Jack.
“Now, on this matter,” said Donato, leaning forward in his chair. “We have a crisis that we need to discuss.”
“A crisis?” replied Jack. “I think we may have just averted one. I'm sure their meeting in Cuba is just a matter of convenience. If this turns out to be terrorists trying to attack the States, you can just notify them and be done with it. As far as Canada goes, our own Intelligence Service, along with the RCMP, will likely work with them.”
Donato shook his head and said, “It is not that easy, my friend. Are either of you familiar with the
Cuban Five
?”
“I never heard of it,” said Laura.
“I've heard of them,” said Jack. “I once did a Google search of the Cuban Five on the Internet. Lots of info, but it is difficult to understand and know who to believe.”
“Then perhaps you will believe
me
,” said Donato. “Our country has had many terrorist groups attack it over the years, including threats from expatriates and gangsters who are based out of Miami. In the mid-1990s we managed to get five undercover Intelligence Officers into some of the terrorist groups and uncovered plans to bring a boat full of explosives to Cuba.”
“Good going,” said Laura.
Donato shook his head to indicate she was wrong, and continued. “Our agents could have simply blown the boat up, but they were concerned that some innocent person could be injured. Perhaps an American citizen. Instead, my government informed the FBI about the boat and gave them documentation telling them who our agents were. The FBI seized the boat of explosives and arrested our five agents. That was in September 1998. They were charged with being spies in the U.S. and are still in prison.”
Oh, man
, brooded Laura,
sort of like Jack and I coming here
...
“So as you can see, our relationship is not good. We are concerned that the U.S. still considers us a terrorist state.
For someone now to meet on Cuban soil and plan such an attack on the U.S. ... it might give them reason to attack us, without having to say they were looking for weapons of mass destruction.”
Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
“Do you understand our dilemma?” asked Donato.
Jack nodded and asked, “So what do you intend to do?”
“We will help, but we would prefer to pass the information through to you. We ask that you not disclose to the Americans where this information came from or that the Russians even came to Cuba.”
“You've got our word on that,” said Jack.
“After all, it would appear that Cuba was simply picked as an alternative to Costa Rica. Where the meeting takes place should not matterâbut we cannot risk that the Americans would feel that way. Our position is that it is
what
is said at the meeting that could be of significance.”
“Not
where
it is said,” agreed Jack.
Donato nodded.
“So, despite how the States has treated you in the past, you are still willing to help them?” asked Jack.
“Of course. Many innocent people could be hurt if action is not taken. What is your expression? Two wrongs don't make it right? We simply prefer that they never know we helped.”
“I won't disclose where the meeting took place,” said Jack. “I'll say that to do so would disclose the identity of a confidential source.”
Donato gave a wry smile and said, “I presume I am that source.”
Jack nodded and said, “I have a reputation for protecting my sources, so that is not unusual. The only problem could be with a Costa Rican policeman by the name of Eduardo. He knows we are here with the Russians, but it is extremely
unlikely that he would present a problem.”
“I doubt that a Costa Rican policeman would ever connect your investigation, into what you indicated was cocaine importation, with a potential terrorist threat on the Americans.”
“Exactly. It is still a loose end, but his interest in the matter was only in relation to what was happening in Costa Rica.”
“If he ever did say something, then so be it.”
“Eduardo seemed like a good type. He did promise to keep our trip here secret.”
“Of course. To protect you from your boss ... the asshole,” said Donato.
“Yes, the
pendejo
,” said Laura.
Donato gave a faint smile and said, “Very good, Laura. Now you know two words of Spanish.”
Late the following morning, Jack, Laura, and Donato dressed in beach clothes and walked along a short street leading to the beach. On the way, Jack noticed a chain-link fence and a sign.
“Laura, look,” he said.
Behind the chain-link fence was a sign with two small Canadian flags attached. The sign identified the place as the Canadian consulate.
“Open from one-thirty to five-thirty every day except Wednesday and Sunday,” commented Laura, reading the sign. “Think we should pop in later and say hello?”
“Hell, no! I don't even want to walk past this place again.”
The beach was the nicest of any Jack had ever seen. The sand was white and clean and his bare feet felt like he was walking on warm velvet. Any of the locals he encountered were quick with a smile.
They found a small restaurant facing the beach where
four musicians strummed guitars and beat lively Latin music. They all ordered beer and a quarter roasted chicken that they took down to the beach, where they sat on lounge chairs and dangled their feet in the water. Jack decided that the cold Bucanero tasted just as good as it had the first night he arrived and for a moment, could feel his body start to relax.
Donato received a visit from one of his staff members.
“The Russians are walking this way on the beach,” said Donato. “If we go back to the restaurant we should see them pass by.”
As they stood under the awning of the restaurant, Laura was the first to comment. “I think that is just about the funniest thing I've ever seen,” she said.
Jack saw what Laura was looking at and immediately lost his appetite. “That's not funny,” he replied, wondering if the chicken was perhaps a little too greasy.
The Russians strolled past on the beach. They each wore Speedos, along with black socks and sandals.
Later that evening, Jack bought a bottle of rum and the three of them returned to his room.
“Here's to catching bad guys,” said Jack, raising his glass of rum and Coke. “No matter what nationality they areâor where they are in the world.”
“And to protecting the innocent,” added Donato, as the three of them clinked the glasses in unison.
“You have pictures of your family?” asked Jack, a moment later.
Donato nodded, taking out his wallet and showing a picture of his wife, three sons, and two daughters.
“My oldest son died,” said Donato softly, pointing at the picture. “It was night. He did not see the car coming. It had
no lights. He was nine.”
“I am sorry,” said Jack.
“It has left a sadness in my wife's eyes for two years now.”
Laura swallowed, and said, “Your children look beautiful.”
Donato beamed. “They are,” he answered, before asking, “You both have children?”
Jack shook his head. “I just got married a year and a half ago.”
“That is plenty of time to make a baby,” chuckled Donato. “In Cuba, we would have two babies by then. How about you, Laura? Children?”
“My husband and I have been trying for years. I became pregnant, but ...” she stopped and her eyes watered.
“I am sorry, Laura,” said Donato. “It was rude of me to ask such a personal question.”
“It's okay,” she replied. “I really love children. Some day I will have one to call my own.”
“Likewise,” said Jack. “Likewise.”
“Then,” said Donato, “When this is over, the both of you must return for a visit. Bring your wife, Jack, and your husband, Laura. You are welcome to share my roof with my family. I would consider it an honour.”
“Perhaps the day will come where you are also free to travel,” said Jack. “I would also consider it an honour for you to come and stay with me.”
Donato nodded, but turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if that day would ever come.
Later that night, Jack went down to the lobby and sent Natasha an e-mail. He told her that he was being well cared for by the Cubans.
They have little, but are willing to share what they do have
, he wrote.
A very proud people. I want to
return here some dayâwith you!
The following morning, the Russians checked out of their hotel as scheduled. A different member of Donato's staff took on the role of taxi driver and took them to Havana.
Jack and Laura went to pay for their rooms, only to be refused. “It was already looked after,” said the desk clerk.
Early that afternoon, Donato told Jack and Laura that the Russians checked into the Hotel Nacional in Havana. A place that Donato informed them was once frequented by Hollywood movie stars and old time gangsters like Al Capone.
Donato had Jack and Laura check in at the Hotel Saint John's. It was a much more modest hotel located about a ten-minute walk away from where the Russians were staying. Jack, Laura and Donato were still in the lobby checking in when Donato received a call.
Donato put his hand over the receiver and whispered to Jack, “It is going as expected. Moustache Pete has already made a reservation tomorrow night at Al Medina. He reserved a table for four people.”
“Four?” replied Jack.
“Apparently they are meeting two people,” replied Donato. “The Russians are now drinking triple vodkas in the bar at the Hotel Nacional. One moment please,” added Donato, as he resumed his phone conversation in Spanish.
“Bueno!”
he said, and hung up.
“Good news?” asked Jack.
Donato smiled and said, “Prostitutes have now been invited to join them. I think tomorrow the Russians will be exhausted and sleep late. Our work will likely not begin until dinner time.”
“It will give Laura and me a chance to see Havana,” said Jack.
“Tomorrow, perhaps around eleven, I will meet you and
give you both a tour of Havana. Tonight, I ask that you excuse me. I still have work to do and ...” Donato paused.
“And you would like to sleep with your wife,” added Jack.
Donato smiled and they said goodbye.
After checking into their rooms and cleaning up, Jack and Laura went to a restaurant beside the hotel before returning for a nightcap in the hotel lobby bar.
A vocal trio called the Trio Tesis were singing Latin songs in the lobby. Jack watched as the lead singer poured his heart out in a song entitled “Yolanda.” When the trio took a break, Jack discovered that the singer spoke English and purchased a compact disc of their songs.
“You're very good,” said Jack. “You show a lot of emotion when you sing âYolanda.' Do you know someone by that name?”
“No,” he admitted. “But when I sing it, I think of my wife. She is a doctor and has been gone many months. The government sent her to help the people in Belize for six months. Soon she will return.”
When he left, Jack turned to Laura and raised his eyebrow.
Laura knew what he was thinking. “It's amazing,” she said. “These people are so poor, yet they can still find it in their hearts to help others.”
“Not my impression of a terrorist state,” replied Jack.
The next morning, Jack and Laura strolled through the streets of Havana. The limestone Spanish architecture of the buildings would have made Havana, at one time, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Now, most of the buildings were in a severe state of decay and were crumbling down. Inside, whole families lived in darkened vestibules. Mothers
swept the limestone dust outside where children used sticks as bats to play ball amongst the rubble.
“Do you see that?” said Laura, gesturing to a young girl holding the hand of a little boy as they came out of a building that apparently was their home. The building was dark inside, with the only visible light coming from a single bulb dangling from a high ceiling on a piece of wire.
“They're spotless,” added Laura. “The both of them.”
Jack saw the white shirts the children wore. They looked perfect. “I read a newspaper in the lobby this morning,” he said. “The paper was called
Granma
.”