In a gravelly whisper, Benilo said, “Pinpoint the method and-”
“The how and the why of it-” Qui added.
“-the motive.”
“-and you arrive at-”
“The suspect.”
8
In a palatial home outside Havana
“You fool! You weren’t supposed to kill the girl, and what do you do? You kill her and her two American friends as well! You idiot.” The man on this end of the cell phone conversation paced the length of his marble hallway, his cell phone sporting a Plantronics headset with a boom microphone, hands gesturing wildly in the air. As he paced, his bathrobe lifted with the air stream pouring from an air conditioning vent.
The voice on the phone replied, “You wanted results, didn’t you?”
“Results yes, not murder!”
“We kept a lid on things.”
“A lid? After allowing everything to get out of control? Some lid!” he shouted, frustrated, storming out to the pool and staring out over the bay.
“I call it taking responsibility under difficult circumstances, and I am not used to having my judgment called into question!”
“We’ve got three dead tourists come back to haunt us. Vanished without a trace, you said!”
“Alejandro made that promise! Not me.”
“OK…Ok tell me this-where are the bodies now?”
“In the custody of authorities.”
“Exactly! On their way to Benilo’s freezers, and you know what that man is capable of finding?”
“Ahhh…he’s an old man resting on his reputation.”
“That old man is a bloodhound. If my dog dropped a single hair on my shoe, that anal-retentive asshole can trace it back to me! That means he can put murder on my doorstep!”
His longhaired Afghan wolfhound, fur dancing with his trot, came begging for attention. Still on the phone, he angrily swatted at the dog.
“I swear nothing’s gonna get back to you, sir. I’ll protect you. There’s no way any of this can touch you.”
“What exactly are you doing to make this go away?”
“I’ve already taken steps.”
“Smart steps? Like putting Benilo on the case?”
“There’d’ve been no keeping Benilo off this case, once it came to light, sir. Even so, it was not my idea to assign Benilo in the first place.”
“No, but you thought the woman, this Aguilera woman, would be the perfect choice, when others could’ve been bought off.”
“There’s no evidence that she can’t be bought off, but our first hope is she will prove unsuitable.”
“She is Tomaso Aguilera’s daughter! Do you think the daughter will be any different from the father? Are you incapable of putting two and two together? You’re beginning to sound like that conniving brainless bastard Gutierrez.”
“Sometimes, Alfonso Gutierrez makes sense.”
“Now I know we’re in trouble if you think this.”
“Sir, my men and I will not let you down. I promise.”
“You’d better know what you are doing, else you know what hell awaits you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” The icy calm tone said more than his threats.
The phone went dead.
To the man on the other end, the sudden silence felt like an omen, a sword dropping. “Well, fuck you too!” replied Cavuto Ruiz.
American Interest Section, Miramar
Satisfied with his meeting with the Canadians, Julio Roberto Zayas had returned to his office and now sat staring at a file grown fat over the past few days. Far from the simple case it had at first seemed, this problem of the two missing American doctors had taken on an ominous cast. Frustrated at every turn by local authorities, he again reviewed what he’d amassed so far on his own.
Staring at the photos of the three missing, Zayas honed in on the Canadian doctor, a clinical researcher for Ferris BioChemical in Montreal. Listed as AIDS clinicians associated with Chicago’s Cook County Hospital, the two Americans looked like a pair of baby-faced high schoolers, not doctors. While the information supplied by the medical conference coordinator-a Doctor Cortez-proved sketchy, it revealed all three as energetic, adventurous, and perhaps a bit naive. Cortez had actually done a better job of learning their movements than had the local police who so far remained useless.
Taking Cortez’s suggestions, Zayas had interviewed hotel staff, learning the trio’s fascination with Havana nightlife, and their habit of dining together far from the conference venue. One staffer at the hotel reported them as coming in late one night intoxicated, boisterously displaying their freshly acquired Cuban curses and dance steps. Further, it was reported that the three of them had apparently been long-term friends.
Doctor Denise Beisiegel proved the most adventurous of the three, not only touring Havana clinics but also visiting a nearby village. Still, Zayas’s investigation revealed that when the three had disappeared, they were more or less, ‘on the town’. The last sighting of the trio had been at the casino bar called King Arthur’s Den within the Excalibre Hotel and Casino.
Zayas now leaned back in his chair, swiveled to look out the office window at the final vestiges of sunset, recalling the curious experience he’d had at the Excalibre when he’d gone searching for answers.
Both the Excalibre’s manager and the Den’s manager were rough-looking fellows trussed up in suits and ties-straight out of a Hollywood mafia film. One was a Cuban national, young for manager of a large hotel, Angel de Sedano; the other, manager of the Den, a Russian named Gregor Kamarovsky. When Zayas had questioned them regarding the missing doctors, the two men held a brief discussion in Russian. With a background in intelligence analysis, Zayas did not let on that he understood every word of their hurried conversation.
“It’s not our problem.”
“Yes, it is. He’s standing right here and wants answers.”
“We talk to him we’re walking dead.”
“Or worse, Castillo Atares!”
“We gotta tell him something.”
“Leave it to me.”
Turning back to Zayas, de Sedano said, “It will take time to check records-determine who worked that night. I assume you want to talk to the staff?”
“Certainly, as soon as possible. I’d like to interview anyone working that night. Right now perhaps?”
“I’ll have to check with the night manager. I don’t know where he keeps records of who worked that night.”
Zayas’s turned to stare at Gregor, whose face was becoming increasingly pale. “Surely among your staff, you know who was worked that night?”
Gregor shrugged and confessed, “I know who was on that night.” de Sedano became agitated at this and said, “Well, then, Gregor and Mr. Zayas, I leave it to you to sort out.” He nodded at both his bar manager and Zayas.
“Thank you for your cooperation. The American Interest Section wants these doctors located as soon as possible.”
“Use this room. I’ll send coffee, rolls-you American cops, you like doughnuts, right? I know our kitchen has croissants.”
Turning back, he added, “I’ll be in my office if you need me for anything.”
