Stalked: The Boy Who Said No (23 page)

Born and raised in Cuba, Pino found the Russian winters to be long, dreary, and gray as mud. Beginning in October, ferocious winds funneled down Russian streets as steady and relentless as an army on the march. The winter brought snow that swirled in blinding sheets, hugging the trunks of trees before obscuring windows and doors.

Freezing rain slicked the lieutenant’s thick hair and frosted his eyebrows with tiny icicles. Ice crunched beneath his boots and his feet rebelled with toenails as brittle as bone. Pino’s hands, ears, and lips became permanently chapped, and he was constantly scraping dead skin from his lips, heels, and hands.

Although brilliant, Pino found his studies to be tedious. He excelled at math and science but struggled to learn Russian. The language sounded harsh to his ears, and the Cyrillic alphabet was strange and unfamiliar. Although the academy offered classes for Spanish-speaking students in their native tongue, the professors’ accents were often thick and incomprehensible. Still, Pino was determined to finish at the top of his class.

In addition to his rigorous physical training, Pino tackled a wide range of subjects, including history, philosophy, psychology, and political science. He enjoyed reading the writings of Chekhov,
Tolstoy, and Dostoevsky, but he preferred classes in military leadership, strategy, and tactics. He improved his parachute jumping and survival tactics. He excelled at the use of explosives and gained further expertise in the demolition of bridges, factories, oil refineries, and utility companies.

He was schooled in Soviet weapons, their nature, use, and deployment. He became skilled in the assembly and disassembly of firearms— rifles, pistols, and machine guns, including AK-47s. He memorized the location and purpose of strategic Soviet and American bases around the world and knew their strengths and vulnerabilities.

Having learned his lessons in the cane fields, Pino worked diligently to bond with the other soldiers. He expressed an interest in their families and friends and helped them with their studies. He did favors for his fellow officers, knowing the contacts he made in Russia would serve him well when he returned to Cuba.

But it was not all work. While in the Soviet Union, Pino broadened his horizons in a number of ways. A former scotch drinker, he developed a taste for vodka and drank it with relish and near abandon with his comrades. He dined on bowls of borscht and lobio, a thick red bean soup, which he enjoyed with hearty peasant bread. He even ate some Ukrainian delicacies, including homemade sausages and black bread with salo, a dish made from salt-cured pig fat. He attended the ballet, gained an ear for poetry, learned to play chess, and improved his backgammon game.

Due to his excellent performance, Pino was among a group of select soldiers who were treated to a trip to Leningrad. The city was constructed on what was originally more than one hundred islands formed by small bodies of water that flow into the Baltic Sea. Gazing at the map, Pino wondered how much Leningrad resembled Venice or Amsterdam, cities he hoped to visit one day.

The entourage arrived during the “White Nights,” the eighty evenings when the sun barely sets on this grand city. Full of wonder and enthusiasm, Pino traveled by riverboat toward the former winter palace of the czars, the Hermitage.

Pino and his comrades gazed at the art museum that contained priceless treasures. Their minders explained how Catherine the Great had begun to acquire the collection and had chosen to spend her private time in the shadow of her beloved paintings and sculptures. Pino was dazzled by the palace’s scale and splendor.

He then boarded a barge that wended its way down the Neva River to Zayachy Island where he toured the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul. The building was turned into a museum in 1924 and contained the remains of almost all the Russian emperors and empresses, including Peter the Great.

Looking up at the breathtaking bell tower reminded Pino of pictures he’d seen of the destruction of the gold-domed Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow. The largest Orthodox cathedral in the world had been demolished to make way for the Palace of the Soviets, which was never completed. In 1958 Nikita Khrushchev turned the gaping hole into the world’s largest outdoor swimming pool.

On the afternoon of January 22, 1969, Pino stood with a group of soldiers outside the Borovitsky Gate at the Kremlin. They were awaiting a special motorcade bearing the cosmonauts of the Soyuz 4 and Soyuz 5 who had recently completed their successful space mission.

The heroes were to be honored at a ceremony inside the Kremlin’s Palace of Congresses. They rode in an open-air limousine, waving to the crowds. Suddenly, several shots rang out. Pino ducked and covered his head. All hell broke loose with security officers scrambling to do their jobs. The KGB soon whisked away a young man disguised in a police uniform.

The would-be assassin had assumed the limo carried General Secretary of the Soviet Union Leonid Brezhnev. It did not. The Soviet leader was traveling in a different car and escaped unharmed. The ceremony continued as planned, but it made Pino think of Mederos. It left him feeling even more convinced that worms who oppose the government should be wiped from the face of the earth.

Torres had told Pino that if he worked hard he could earn a promotion upon graduation. Pino did everything in his power to make that happen.

On a fine day in May, Pino learned that his disciplined study, his extraordinary dedication, and his keen intellect had served him well. Torres informed him that he was one of only ten graduates of the academy to be awarded the rank of captain. For a brief moment, Pino’s heart felt as light as helium. He accepted the news with smug satisfaction and an internal smile.

Captain Pino stood at his graduation ceremony, thinking of the might of the Soviet Union, proud to have his diploma of this great nation in hand, and even prouder that his five years in Russia had proved so productive. He was rehabilitated. He had acquired a plethora of new skills and a host of powerful friends. More importantly, he had a gleaming medal on his chest that announced his rank. He was happy. His hand drifted upward to caress the scar on his jaw. His time in the cane fields had been worth it.

Now he had important work to do.

Thanks to Marcos’s tutoring, Frank received his GED a year after he arrived in the States. Frank and Magda started taking courses at St. Peter’s College in Jersey City. Frank took some business courses while Magda pursued a degree in computer science.

Frank had left his job in Clifton and had been hired by R. G. Thomas Corporation in Palisades Park. He made aluminum shells for bombs used in the Vietnam War.

Magda had landed a job at Merrill Lynch in New York City. She commuted to the city and was making a good salary. By Cuban standards, it was a small fortune. She had been promoted and was overseeing an exciting new project. Her goal was to become one of the few women computer scientists on the East Coast.

On a Friday night in mid-September, a night when Frank and Magda usually dined out, Magda called Frank at work. She didn’t sound like herself. She told her husband that she wanted to eat at home. She said she had something important to tell him. Frank wondered whether she had received a promotion. Puzzled, he hurried home.

When Frank walked in the door, the house was clean, the table was set with flowers and candles, and Magda was in the kitchen cooking Frank’s favorite meal—roast pork, mashed potatoes, and salad. A bottle of red wine sat uncorked on the table.

After kissing his wife, Frank showered and changed his clothes for dinner. Magda lit the candles as he came to the table. She wore a black skirt and a white silk blouse. A strand of pearls circled her neck. Candlelight danced off her hair.

Frank settled himself in his chair and looked across the table at Magda. She had a coy look on her face.

“What’s up?” asked Frank. He glanced at the table. “This looks lovely. It must mean good news.”

Magda smiled. She had never looked so happy. “I just got a call from Dr. Alexander.”

“And?”

“And you are going to be a father.”

Frank sat back in his chair and dropped his napkin on the table. His face lit like a grassfire. He whistled his joy. “Really? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Frank got up from his chair, beaming. This was totally unexpected news. He was filled with a sense of pride and wonder. He and Magda were going to have a child, and their baby would be born in America—free from the treachery of Fidel. This was the icing on the cake, the fulfillment of Frank’s dreams.

“We’re having a baby, our baby—an American citizen,” he said. “Can you believe it?”

Magda laughed. They stood and hugged. Frank’s thoughts turned to his mother, father, and grandfather. This would be his parents’ first grandchild and Abuelo’s first great-grandchild. He imagined how thrilled they’d be when he telegrammed them the news.

Frank remembered when his mother was pregnant with his siblings. By the seventh month of her pregnancies, her belly was so big she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep. She suffered from swollen ankles, heartburn, and back pain. Suddenly, Frank felt very protective of Magda.

“Do you feel okay?”

Magda laughed. “I feel fine.”

“So what do we do now? Did you tell anybody? Does anybody else know?”

“No, you are the first.”

“Wait till your parents find out!”

Magda giggled and held her hands over her stomach. “I know.”

“Have you thought of names?”

“I have.”

“So?”

“I was thinking of calling the baby Frank, if it’s a boy.”

“And if it’s a little girl?”

“If it’s a girl, I’d like to call her Darlene.”

“Then Darlene it is.”

“It’s okay with you?”

“Whatever you want is okay with me. I’m just so happy we’re going to have a child.”

“Would you rather have a boy or a girl?”

Frank laughed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s our baby either way.”

Magda smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want a boy?”

“I want a baby—whatever we have.”

“Good. That’s how I feel too.”

Frank and Magda were so excited they could hardly sleep. They talked into the wee hours of the morning about what it would be like to have a child of their own.

They made plans for the baby’s christening and talked about the colors for the nursery. Frank told Magda he hoped the baby would look like her, and she said she hoped it would look like him.

Frank was afraid something might go wrong with the pregnancy, but he didn’t want to voice his concerns to Magda. She must’ve been thinking the same thing. She said she wanted to wait a few weeks before telling anyone—even her parents—the news.

Frank felt like he was harboring an amazing secret, like he was the first man in the world to have a baby. His friends kept asking him what he was always smiling about, and he told them “the weather”—even when it was raining. He’d never been so excited in his life.

All of that paled when he first felt the baby kick. For several days, Magda had sensed butterflies in her stomach, but she thought it was gas. A week later she felt the baby move.

Three weeks later, Magda placed Frank’s palm on her swollen belly and covered his hand with hers. “There,” she said. “Do you feel it?”

Frank felt what he thought was his child’s foot kicking against his wife’s stomach. It was a moment he would never forget. He wiped a tear from his eye.

Frank accompanied Magda to all her doctor’s appointments to make sure her pregnancy was progressing normally. By the end of April, she looked like she would burst. Her breasts had almost doubled in size. She cupped her stomach with both hands when she walked, and she held the small of her back with one hand when she stood.

At one o’clock on the afternoon of May 5, 1970, Magda called Frank to tell him her water had broken. Frank called Magda’s parents and asked them to come to the Union City Hospital.

Frank was a wreck, pacing the floor like a caged animal. Drinking great quantities of coffee, he was so wound up he asked every doctor and nurse he saw about Magda’s condition. None of them knew a thing. Time unraveled at the pace of a drugged turtle.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the delivery room, removing a pair of latex gloves from his hands. His surgical mask sat beneath his chin. He was smiling ear to ear. Frank looked at him, sensing good news.

“Is Magda okay?”

“She’s fine. You have a healthy baby girl.”

“A girl,” said Frank, elated. “Darlene. Little Darlene.” He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks. “Does she look like Magda?”

“She’s beautiful, just like your wife.”

Frank laughed and hugged Magda’s parents. He went home that night feeling like he had conquered the world, like he had a hundred medals on his chest.

Darlene was the spitting image of her mother. From the very start, she was the apple of Frank’s eye. He held her, fed her, and diapered her. He walked with her at night so Magda could get some sleep.

As Darlene grew, the couple realized that they needed more space, so they bought a house in Lincoln Park, a short drive from Union City. Darlene’s room was decorated with pictures of fairies and a zoo of stuffed animals. Darlene liked to dress up in sparkly things, the more sparkles the better. A swing set occupied a small plot of land in back of the house. Magda went back to work in New York City, and her mother and aunt helped with child care.