Castro turned and announced, “This is not sufficient evidence to take action against this man.” He stared a hole through Pena demanding, “Do you have anything further to add…Colonel Pena?”
“ Colonel Pena?” spluttered Latoya, his eyes wide, every word, every slight he’d ever perpetrated in Pena’s presence replaying in his mind.
Benilo and Tomaso gaped at one another in silence, but knew enough to remain silent.
Pena 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,” Pena 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 Pena.
“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.
42
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 Pena.
“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.”
