Red Angel

hand on his midsection and gave his hips a small rumba sway.

“Ah, the music is wonderful,” he said as he took an empty chair.

“You seem very jolly,” Pitts said. “Cipriani finally spill his guts? Or maybe your major from State Security?”

“I am afraid not. Senor Cipriani and Major Cepedes both remain very unhelpful. They are now on their way back to Havana by car. Under guard. My men will use back roads, so it will take them two days, but that will also make it difficult for Colonel Cabrera to find them, no?” He smiled. “It will also make them available to us if we need them. I have made arrangements for us to return to Havana tomorrow morning. We will fly to Varadero, where a car will meet us and drive us the last one hundred and forty kilometers.” He gave them his Cuban shrug. “This will also present some difficulties for the colonel.”

“Why are we going back?” Devlin asked. “I thought Plante Firme said we’d find the body here?”

Martinez nodded. “But I believe the body is being taken back to Havana by Baba Briyumbe’s disciple.”

“This Seven Thunderbolts guy?” Pitts asked.

“Yes, by Siete Rayos.”

“Why do you think that?” Adrianna asked.

“Some new information has come to me.” Martinez leaned forward and lowered his voice so it could just be heard over the music. “The men who fled the shrine-the old, sickly man and his companion, along with the two Abakua-left Santiago on a private jet, which is why my men at the airport failed to observe them. A later check of flight records showed that they arrived in Havana three hours ago.”

“Did customs get their names?” Devlin asked.

“Unfortunately, there are no customs for internal flights, so there was no report filed in Havana. I did check on the flight’s initial arrival in Cuba. It flew in yesterday with two passengers: a Senor John Smith and a Senor Matthew Jones. Both had Canadian passports that I believe to be false. One of the men required assistance getting off the aircraft, and both seemed to receive special consideration going through customs and immigration. Their entry forms indicated they were businessmen.”

“Where did they fly in from?” Devlin asked.

“From Nassau in the Bahamas,” Martinez said.

Devlin and Pitts exchanged looks, but remained silent.

Devlin decided to stick with the missing body. “What makes you think this changing-of-heads ritual hasn’t already been done?” he asked.

“I am sure that it has not,” Martinez said.

“Why?” Adrianna asked.

“Because the house in which the men stayed was being watched at all times. By either Senor Caputo or his wife. There were no visitors until Senor Cipriani arrived. And, most important, there was no nganga. In Cuba, the arrival of a nganga would not go unnoticed.”

“And you’re sure this sickly man is the reason my aunt’s body was stolen?”

Martinez nodded. “Everything points in that direction. And now everything points back to Havana. I suspect the nganga is on its way there now. And that it will arrive within days.”

“You think it’s going by car?” Adrianna asked.

Martinez smiled. “It would make strange baggage on an airline, no? Even if it were loaded on a private jet, it would not go unnoticed or unchallenged by the immigration police.”

“What about roadblocks?” Pitts asked. “Maybe you can find it before it gets to Havana.”

“I am afraid there are too many small roads, and too few people to blockade them. It is exactly why Senor Cipriani and Major Cepedes are now traveling this way.” He shook his head. “No, we must get to Havana and find this sickly man. Then the nganga holding the Red Angel’s bones will come to us.”

“We’re thinking about going home,” Adrianna said. “It’s just-”

Devlin cut her off. “No, we’re not.” He reached out and covered her hand again. “I think it might be a good idea if you went home,” he said. “But Ollie and I are going to stay.”

Adrianna stared at him. “Like hell,” she said. “If you’re staying, so am I.”

“I think it would be best if you all stayed,” Martinez said. “But not at the Inglaterra. I am presently having some of your clothing removed and taken to a location where Colonel Cabrera will not think to look.”

“Where?” Devlin asked.

Martinez smiled again, a bit coyly, Devlin thought.

“You will stay in the house of the Red Angel. Not the ancestral home her sister now occupies, but the one in Miramar, the one Fidel, himself, has given her.” The smile widened. “We will hide under Cabrera’s nose. His own house, also a gift of Fidel, is only a few blocks away.”

13

Devlin put Adrianna to bed. When she was asleep, he entered Pitts’s room through the connecting door.

“John the Boss?” Pitts asked.

“Could be. If it is, at least we know who we’re looking for.” He went to the telephone. “I’m gonna call a friend in our organized-crime bureau. He knows everything about Rossi, right down to the size of his dick.”

“You think there’s a Cuban connection we don’t know about?”

“If there is, he’ll know about it.”

Devlin hung up the phone ten minutes later and let out a long breath.

“You got something?” Pitts asked.

Devlin nodded. “Back in the fifties, Rossi worked here with Meyer Lansky. He was small potatoes, just a button doing odd jobs, but apparently he made an impression. When Castro tossed them out, he went back to New York and started to move up in the organization. And that’s when the NYPD started paying attention.”

“So you think it’s him.” There was no hint of a question in Pitts’s voice. He obviously thought so, too.

“It fits,” Devlin said. “The old Cuban connection. The sick, old man, who maybe got introduced to Palo Monte back in the old days. The flight from the Bahamas, where Rossi and his goon, Mattie the Knife, just happened to be. The phony passports that used the same first names: John and Matthew.” Devlin shook his head. “This thing walks like a duck and says quack, Ollie. Plus, you’re forgettin’ a few other things.”

“Like what?”

“Like it was the body of Adrianna’s aunt that got snatched. And that was something that just might bring me, here.” Devlin tapped the side of his nose. “Like the fact that this sick old man waited around to see somebody get iced, and only took off when that didn’t happen. And sending me to the boneyard has been somethin’ John the Boss has wanted to do for a long time. He tried once, and it didn’t work. But he’s not the kind of guy who changes his mind. He just knew he couldn’t try again in New York.”

“And you think he set it up here?” Pitts’s voice was incredulous. He shook his head. “That would mean he had Adrianna’s aunt killed just to get you down here. That doesn’t make sense. He can’t have that kind of clout here.”

“No, but maybe he has friends who do.” Devlin waved his hand, as if dismissing his own argument. “Look, I think he knows everything about me. And everything about anybody I’m close to. It’s the kind of mean old bastard he is.” He waved his hand again. “But no, I don’t think he set it up that way. That’s too Byzantine even for an old Mafia bastard like him. I wouldn’t put it past him, but I think he fell into this. I think he and his gumbas had something else going, and the situation just presented itself. And the old Bathrobe jumped on it with both feet. Look, if he believes in this crazy voodoo nonsense, and is looking for a cure, what better than the body of Cuba’s most famous doctor. If Martinez is right, Cuba’s Red Angel got rubbed out by Cabrera. And what a nice little bonus that she happens to be Adrianna’s aunt. Because that just about guarantees that my ass is headed for Cuba. And that’s something that will put me right in his sights. Right where everybody’s been leading us, ever since we got here. And you know what else that means. That means Martinez could be involved right up to his rumba-shaking little ass.”