“What’s this about?” asked Sofia.
“Please, gather your things and come with me.”
She was pleasant enough, but the vibes weren’t good. Heads turned with suspicion as they proceeded up the long, narrow aisle. The flight attendant led them completely off the plane, and they continued walking toward the gate.
“I told you not to hand out money to janitors,” Sofia muttered.
“Something tells me that’s not what this is about,” said Jack.
Three men dressed in military uniforms were waiting at the gate. Each was carrying an impressive large-caliber pistol in a black leather holster. The two younger men also bore automatic rifles. The flight attendant handed over the passengers to the leader, a more mature-looking man who appeared to be of some higher rank that Jack was unable to pinpoint. He asked to see their passports, which they presented. As he inspected their documents, the airplane backed out of the gate and started toward the runway. The soldier kept their passports and said, “This way, please.”
Evidently, they weren’t leaving Cuba anytime soon.
Jack and Sofia followed directly behind the older man, and the two younger soldiers flanked them on either side. They walked for several minutes through the busy airport, three pairs of military boot heels clicking on the tile floors. They exited the main terminal through a long and hot hallway, passing through several sets of doors along the way, the last of which bore a sign that read in Spanish, RESTRICTED AREA-AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. The lead officer opened it with a key, and the group continued its journey with hardly a break in stride. There was another long hallway, and they walked straight to the door at the other end. The man knocked once and said, “Excuse me, Colonel. I have the Americans.”
The voice on the other side replied, “Enter.”
He opened the door and then immediately assumed the rigid pose of a military salute. A simple command from the man inside put him at ease, and he nudged the Americans forward.
Sofia shot Jack a look as if to say that “ladies first” was for lifeboats and cocktail parties. Jack entered, and she followed.
Jack’s eyes had to adjust to the lights, which were shining straight at his face. The room was windowless, but there was a large mirror built into the wall, undoubtedly a one-way gizmo that concealed the observers on the other side. The floors were unfinished concrete. The walls were cinder blocks that had been painted a bright white. Two uncomfortable wooden chairs were situated in the middle of the room, side by side, facing the lights. Even if he hadn’t been nervous, Jack would have been sweating. It was one of those interrogation rooms that could just as easily serve as a torture chamber, the kind of place from which you’d expect both screams and confessions to flow freely.
A man dressed in simple green combat fatigues stepped forward. His uniform was wholly unimpressive, yet he seemed to exude confidence as he spoke to the Americans in near-perfect English.
“Please, sit,” he said in a voice that sounded way too friendly to be sincere. “The people of Cuba are eager to speak to you about your case.”
18
Are those lights really necessary?” said Jack, shielding his eyes.
The colonel walked around the table and flipped a wall switch. The spotlights went out, and the sudden contrast from bright light to normal made the room seem much darker than it actually was. The colonel pulled a ten-inch cigar from his shirt pocket, and another man immediately stepped forward to light it. The man was so quick and obsequious that he could only have been the colonel’s personal aide. The colonel puffed hard on one end, rolling the other across a six-inch flame. Jack and Sofia were soon shrouded in a cloud of cigar smoke.
“My name is Colonel Raul Jimenez,” he said as the thick smoke poured from his nostrils. “The people of Cuba thank you for coming.”
Jack glanced left, then right. “Funny, I don’t see them here.”
The colonel smiled, but it faded quickly. “You’re looking at them.”
With the wave of his hand, the armed soldiers left the room. The colonel’s aide remained at attention, standing off to the side.
“Gracias,” said Sofia.
At first Jack wasn’t sure why she was thanking him, but he too felt more comfortable with the automatic weapons out of the room.
“My purpose here is not to frighten you,” said the colonel. “I wish only to do you a favor.”
“Why do I doubt that?” said Jack.
“You are such a skeptic, Senor Swyteck.”
“I can’t help it. I’m a lawyer.”
“True, very true. Tell me. How did your interview with Lieutenant Johnson go this morning?”
Jack and Sofia looked at each other, not sure how he knew.
The colonel said, “You don’t think anything happens on that base that we don’t know about, do you?”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” said Jack.
“We’re sitting right on the other side of the razor wire. We watch them; they watch us. It’s the way the game is played in Guantanamo. Has been for forty years. So tell me: How did your little talk with the lieutenant go?”
“You don’t really expect me to discuss that with you, do you?”
He laughed heartily. “Just as I thought. He told you nada.”
“Colonel, what is it that you want from us?”
“Just a few minutes of your time.” He rose and started to pace, waving his cigar as he spoke. “Let me make a few educated assumptions here. One, the U.S. government didn’t let you talk to anyone but Lieutenant Johnson, did they?”
Jack didn’t answer.
“Two,” said the colonel, “anyone who might know anything about the murder of Captain Pintado has been reassigned, no? Persian Gulf, maybe? Or perhaps Guam?”
He glanced at Sofia and then at Jack. It was clear he didn’t expect an answer, but he didn’t seem to need one. “Seems to me that you are getting the brick house here.”
“Stonewall,” said his aide.
“Stonewall, yes. Brick house is something else entirely, no?” He was looking at Sofia with that last remark. Women served extensively in the Cuban military, but machismo was still alive and kicking.
Jack said, “Colonel, unless you’re going to put bamboo shoots under our fingernails, we’re not going to tell you what was said at the naval base. Even then, I’d just make it all up.”
“There’s nothing you need to tell me, Senor Swyteck. All you have to do is listen.”
“Okay. My ears are open.”
“Like I said, we know you met with Lieutenant Johnson, because we are watching that base constantly. Twenty-four/seven.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Then it should come as no surprise that we saw-how shall I put this? We saw things of interest at your client’s home on the night the captain left this world.”
Jack’s interest was suddenly piqued. “I’d like to hear about it.”
The colonel flashed a sly smile, the smoldering cigar clenched between his teeth. “I bet you would.”
“Come on, Colonel. I hope you didn’t invite us in here just to play the ‘I know a secret’ game. What do you have?”
“A vigilant Cuban soldier. Watching from a guard tower through night-vision binoculars.”
“What did he see?”
“Something that can prove that your client did not murder her husband.”
Jack’s pulse quickened. Could this be true? “I need specifics,” said Jack.
“Not so fast. Before I offer up one of my own soldiers on a silver platter, I need to know: What are you offering
