Havana Bay (48 page)

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Authors: Martin Cruz Smith

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Crime

BOOK: Havana Bay
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Waves, curls and spit curls close to the scalp and
tight as springs would have daunted Ofelia if Muriel's hair weren't almost as thick. One pull wouldn't do, she
had to firmly feather the hair out, work it loose, put
some shape back into it.

"You have to take care of yourself,
chica."

To begin with, Teresa submitted with silent grimness,
but after a minute her neck started to roll with the
strokes. Hair like this warmed up with brushing,
especially on a hot day, polished up like silver with a
little attention. As Ofelia lifted the hair from the nape
of the neck she could feel Teresa soften to the touch.
Fourteen years old? Alone for two days? Frightened for
her life? Even a stray cat needed to be petted.

"I wish I had hair like this. I wouldn't need a pillow."

 
"Everyone says that," Teresa murmured.

"That's looking better."

As Teresa relaxed, though, her shoulders began to
shake. She turned to Ofelia and revealed her whole face
wet with tears.

"Now my face is a mess."

"I'll cheer you up." Ofelia put the brush into her bag.» Let me show you what else I have."

"The stupid swimsuit?"

"Better than a swimsuit."

"A condom?"

"No, better than that." Ofelia brought out the Mak-arov 9-mm pistol and let Teresa hold it.

"Heavy."

"Yes." Ofelia took the Makarov back.» I think all women should be issued guns. No men, just women."

"I bet Hedy wished she had something like this. You know my friend Hedy?"

"I'm the one who found her."

"Cono,"
Teresa said more in awe.

When Ofelia put the gun away, she stayed kneeling and lowered her voice as if they didn't have the whole skyline of Havana to themselves.» I know you're afraid
the same thing is going to happen to you, but I can stop
them. You have an idea who did it or you wouldn't be hiding, no? The question is, who are you hiding from?"

"You really are police?"

"Yes. And I don't want to find you like I found
Hedy." Ofelia let the girl contemplate that for a
moment.» What happened to her protection?"

 
 
"I don't know."

"The man who protects you and Hedy, what's his
name?"

"I can't say."

"You can't because he's in Minint and you think this will get back to him. If I get to him first, then you'd be able to leave this roof."

Teresa folded her arms and shivered in spite of the
heat.» I didn't really think some
turista
was going to
come here and marry me. Why would he want to take
home some ignorant black girl? Everyone would make
fun of him. 'Hey, Herman, you didn't have to marry
your whore.' I'm not stupid."

"I know."

"Hedy was really nice."

"You know, I think I can still help you. You don't
have to say his name. I'll say his name."

"I don't know."

"Luna. Sergeant Facundo Luna."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't, I did."

Teresa looked away, as far as the angels that balanced
on the theater. A breeze lifted her hair the same as it seemed to do to the angels'.

"He gets so mad."

"He has a temper, I know. But maybe I can tell you
something that can help. Did you sleep with him?" When
Teresa hesitated Ofelia said, "Look me in the eyes."

"Okay, once. But Hedy was his girl."

"When you slept with him—"

 
"No details."

"One detail. Did he keep his drawers on?"

Teresa giggled, the first light moment since Ofelia
had found her.» Yes."

"Did he say why?"

"He said he just did."

"All the way through?"

"The whole time."

"Never took them off?"

"Not around me."

"Did you ask Hedy about it."

"Well." Teresa bobbed her head from side to side.»
Yes. We were really good friends. He never did with her either."

"You know,
chica,
it wouldn't be a bad idea to stay
here for another day, but actually I think you're prob
ably pretty safe."

"What about Hedy?"

"I'm going to have to rethink that." As Ofelia gath
ered her bag and stood she kissed Teresa on the cheek.»
You helped."

"It was nice to talk."

"It was." Ofelia started down the ladder and paused
midway.» By the way, did you know Rufo Pinero?"

"A friend of Facundo's? I met him once. I didn't like him."

"Why not?"

"He had one of those mobile phones. Mr. Big-Time
Jinetero, always on it. No time for me. So you really
think I'll be okay?"

 
 
"I think so."

Because the question for Ofelia ever since Sergeant
Facundo Luna hadn't killed her right off at the Russian
Center was whether he was Abakua. It was hard to say
about a member of a secret society. The PNR had tried
to infiltrate the Abakua and the result was the opposite:
the Abakua had penetrated the police, recruiting the
most macho officers, white as well as black. Identifying
them had become an art. An Abakua might hijack a
truck from a ministry yard, but he would not steal even
a peso from a friend. Never allowed an insult to go
unanswered. Might murder but never informed. Wore nothing feminine, no earrings, tight belts or long hair.
There was one conclusive identification: an Abakua
never showed his bare behind to anyone. He never
pulled his drawers down even for making love. Ofelia
thought of it as a kind of Achilles' ass.

One more thing an Abakua never did.

He never hurt a woman.

 

 
Chapter Twenty-Six

 

Arkady returned to Mongo's room in the back of what
had been Erasmo's boyhood house. An empty house
today, enervated by heat. After a courtesy knock on the
door Arkady reached to the upper lip of the frame and
found the key.

Not much had changed in the bedroom since
Arkady's first visit. Shutters opened wide enough to take
in the curve of the sea, fishing boats trolling against the
current,
neumdticos
wallowing in their wake. Not a
cloud in the sky or a wave in the water. Dead still. The
coconuts, plastic saints and photographs of Mongo's
favorite fighters were just as Arkady had seen before,
and whether a sheet was tucked in the same manner he
couldn't tell, but a different disc topped the CD stack,
and the swim flippers that had hung from a hook on
the wall and the truck inner tube that had been sus
pended above the bed were both gone. Arkady returned to the window to see three different groups of
neumdti
cos
listlessly paddling, each group at least five hundred
yards apart from the other.

Arkady went down to the street and walked a block
west to a cafe of cement tables set in the shade of a wall
with the sign
siempre

Siempre
something because
bougainvillea had taken root and smeared the rest of
the slogan with magenta. Arkady was not surprised that
Mongo would venture out on the water. Mongo was a fisherman. He had probably been warned away from
Erasmo's repair shop while a Russian investigator occu
pied the apartment above. Where better to hide than on
the water? If he was out on his tube, sooner or later he
would have to come in, somewhere along Miramar's First Avenue or the Malecon, too much ground for
Arkady to watch. But it seemed to him that he could
lower the odds by remembering that what a man with
an inner tube needed most of all was air. From his table
he had a view of a gas station with two pumps under a
canopy styled with a modernistic fin, blue once, now
the off-white found on the lip of a clamshell. It was a
station on his Texaco map. By the office was a faucet and an air hose.

Cars came and went all afternoon, some struggling
like lungfish up to the pump and then crawling away.
Neumdticos
had to deal with a garage dog that accepted some and chased away others. Arkady sipped his way
through three Tropicolas and three
cafe cubanos,
his
heart tapping its fingers while he sat, invisible in the
shadow of his coat. Finally a skinny asphalt-black man
approached the station office with an inner tube that
was going limp in his arms. He threw the dog a fish,
went into the office and came out a minute later with a patch he applied to the tube. When he felt the adhesive
had set, he added air to check the repair. His clothes
were a green cap, loose running shoes and the sort of
rags a sensible man would choose for floating in the
bay. Balancing the tube with its net and sticks and reels on his head, he lay his flippers over one shoulder and a
string of rainbow-sided fish over the other. When he
saw Arkady cross the intersection, the
neutnatico's
red,
salt-stung eyes looked for an avenue of escape, and but
for his inner tube and the day's catch, he no doubt
could have easily outrun someone in an overcoat.

"Ramon 'Mongo' Bartelemy?" Arkady asked. He
thought he was starting to get a grip on Spanish.

"No."

"I think so." Arkady showed Mongo the picture of
himself proudly displaying a fish to Luna, Erasmo and Pribluda.» I also know you speak Russian." It was worth
a stab.

"A little."

"You're not an easy man to find. Join me for a
coffee?"

The elusive Mongo had a beer. Crystal beads of sweat
covered his face and chest. His mesh sack of fish lay on
the bench beside him.

"I saw a tape of you fighting," Arkady said.

"Did I win?"

"You made it look easy."

"I could move, you know? I could move with anyone,
I just didn't like to get hit," Mongo said, although his
nose was splayed enough to suggest he had been caught
a few times.

"Then when they dropped me from the
team I was eligible for the army.
Oye,
suddenly I was in Africa with Russians. Russians don't know the difference
between an African and a Cuban. You learn Russian
fast." Mongo grinned.» You learn 'Don't shoot, you
assholes!'"

"Angola?"

"Ethiopia."

"Demolition?"

"No, I drove an armored personnel carrier. That's
how I became a mechanic, keeping that
puta
APC alive."

"Is that where you met Erasmo?"

"In the army."

"Luna?"

Mongo regarded his large capable hands, callused
from drumming and scarred from barbs.» Facundo I
know from way back when he first came from Baracoa
to join the boxing team. He could have been a fighter
or he could have been a baseball player, but he had no discipline with women or drinking, so he wasn't on any
team for long."

"Baracoa?"

"In the Oriente. He could hit."

"He and Rufo Pinero were friends?"

"Claro.
But what they did I didn't know." Mongo
shook his head so emphatically his sweat sprayed.» I
didn't want to know."

"And you were Sergei Pribluda's friend?"

"Yes."

"You went fishing together?"

"Verdad."

"You taught him how to fish with a kite?"

"I tried."

"And how to be a
neumdtico?"

 
"Yes."

"And what is the most important rule a
neumdtico
has to follow? Never go out alone at night. I don't think
Pribluda went out alone on that Friday two weeks ago.
I think he went out on the water with his good friend
Mongo."

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