Havana Harvest (44 page)

“Yes, he is.”

“I understand he was of help in the Fernandez affair.”

“Not really, but then I didn't need any help, anyway.”

“How come?” Lonsdale played along. Reyes Puma's answer was not what he had expected.

“Fernandez was being released in my presence. I had him followed.”

“And who killed him?” Lonsdale was trying to get back on track.

“Laura.”

“Who's Laura?”

“One of Raul's professional hit women. Very discreet.”

“Was the woman who killed the jeweler in Budapest one of your people then?”

“No. That plan also came from Havana. It was another female. Laura looked after Fernandez.”

“You mean the assassination?”

“Yes, she assassinated Fernandez.” Reyes Puma was becoming agitated and the doctor adjusted the flow of intravenous liquid.

“And the other assassinations?”

“Three by shooting, one by accident. Havana made three look alike” to send a message.” The Cuban was getting tired. Lonsdale looked at the doctor, who rotated his hand, indicating that Lonsdale should press on quickly.

“What message?”

“To the Americans.” Puma whispered. “So they should know we know.”

“Know what?”

“Operation Adios. They started it. De la Fuente started it for them. We didn't.”

“How did you find out?”

“Smythe. He's a big shot now. They'll confirm him DCI soon and then we'll be all set. If I survive.” The Cuban's voice was barely audible.

“Can you not control him?”

“Hard to control the DCI. Too powerful …”

“How do you control him?”

“His wife … he wanted his wife killed … I arranged it…” Reyes Puma lost consciousness.

Lonsdale motioned to the doctor, and they stepped outside the room. “Can you wake him up so I can continue asking questions?”

“Not without risking a heart attack.”

“What are the chances?”

“Sixty percent in favor of a massive one. He's too fat and out of shape.”

Lonsdale looked at Morton who had joined them. “What do you think, Jim?”

“We have enough to follow up on,” Morton replied. He was ashen-faced, shaken.

Lonsdale began to pace about, chewing his lower lip. “You're right. And we can't risk killing him.”

“Why not?”

“Because we need him to pull a double reverse on the boys in Havana, that's why.”

“How's that?”

“We'll start a disinformation campaign through Reyes Puma to obscure the details of the extraction operation. We'll feed Havana false dates, false details, false plans.” Lonsdale's mind was far away, working out the details.

Reyes Puma woke up next morning with a blinding headache and totally disoriented. He was mighty glad to see his wife at his bedside.

“Como te sientes, mi amor?”
She spoke softly, wiping his forehead gently with a moist facecloth. “You gave us all a terrible fright.”

“Where am I?”

“At the clinic. Don't you remember? You ate too much and got sick. Had it not been for the quick thinking of your friend, Quesada, things could have gotten far worse.” There were tears of relief in her eyes.

“Yes, yes, Quesada. He's a good friend.”

“They brought you here by ambulance, pumped your stomach and gave you a sedative to sleep.” She pressed the bell at his bedside. “I'm calling the doctor to tell him you're awake.”

“Maybe he can give me something for my headache. It's a real screamer.”

“I'm sure he will. Just rest easy,
mi amor
.”

He turned toward her painfully and smiled “You know Anita, I had the weirdest of dreams.” He caught himself just in time and was saved from continuing by the arrival of the doctor.

Tuesday, November 29
Miami, Florida

Sitting on the terrace of their suite at the Sheraton Towers Hotel overlooking Miami Bay, Morton and Lonsdale silently watched darkness descend upon the waters.

The hotel was part of a complex consisting of four spectacular towers rising from reclaimed land bordered by Brickell Boulevard on one side and the sea on the other. Though the view from the fifteenth floor was breathtaking it was not sufficiently so to distract the two men from their preoccupations.

They were in damage-control mode. Finding out that Smythe was being blackmailed into treason by an agent of the Cuban government had shaken them both. Neither had slept much during the last thirty-six hours and that hadn't helped either.

“Where's the video tape your people took of Reyes Puma and us at the clinic?” Lonsdale asked.

“It's in my briefcase. I played it back on the monitor a while back and the picture quality is superb.”

“What about the sound?”

“Don't worry; it's first class.” Morton smiled fleetingly. “Your insistence that we suspend a mike over the bastard's bed paid off.” Lonsdale grunted and said nothing.

“What do we do next?” Morton rubbed his temples.

“We carry on as usual, except that we start feeding Smythe spam.”

“We can't do that.” Morton wasn't happy.

“Yes we can, Jim. We have to.” Lonsdale closed his aching eyes and leaned back in his chair. “A few more days of the status quo are neither here nor there. I'll go to Havana to contact Casas and De la Fuente and tell them to get out immediately, even if it means risking their necks in an open boat.”

“We can always have them picked up by our Coast Guard en route.”

“As long as we do it outside Cuban territorial waters.”

“Twelve miles out.”

“At twenty knots that's half an hour.”

“If their Coast Guard does not intercept them.”

“Whatever.” Lonsdale was getting wearier by the minute. “If I can't persuade them to leave I'll try to identify a group of his followers who might be able to help during extraction. With Casas's help of course,” he added

“Sounds risky.”

“Jim, we have no choice. We've got to get these two out of Cuba, and fast. I just hope I get there before they're arrested.”

“Which brings me to Spiegel.” Morton shuddered. “I tried to call him in London to stop him from going to Havana.”

Lonsdale's eyes snapped open in disbelief. “You mean the man is ready to risk his life by sticking his head into the lion's cage?”

“He doesn't know about Smythe.”

“Oh my God. I overlooked that.” Lonsdale cupped his hands over his face. “Did you reach him?”

“No. By the time I called this morning his plane had already left for Havana.”

“I suppose he wanted to get there the day before his scheduled Wednesday-night meeting with Charley De la Fuente. Makes it look less contrived.”

“That was the idea.” Morton sighed. “Now that we know the Cubans know everything about Operation Adios, we must assume that Smythe has told them about Spiegel as well. I guess they'll hold off arresting Casas and Oscar until Oscar has met with Spiegel.”

“Why?”

“I'm just guessing. The Cubans are meticulous investigators, especially in cases involving foreign citizens. They will try to catch Spiegel and De la Fuente red-handed in the act of exchanging information.”

“When did Oscar and Casas get back from Angola?”

“Two weeks ago tomorrow.”

“Then their goose is cooked,” Lonsdale said with resignation. “They, and Spiegel, will be arrested before the week's out.”

“Which brings me back to what I was asking before. What do we do next?”

“Give me fifteen minutes. I have an idea. I just want to think it through.” Lonsdale got up and headed for the shower.

Wednesday, November 30
Washington, DC, Nassau and Havana

At eight a.m. on Wednesday, Morton met the third secretary of the British Embassy in Washington, who immediately arranged a scrambled telephone conversation with his ambassador in Havana. The ambassador was most gracious and said his sister, visiting Havana for the winter, would be delighted to have drinks and dinner with Mr. Spiegel at the Old Man and the Sea that evening.

Meanwhile, with colored contact lenses to make his eyes look blue, hair dyed blond, and features altered by extensive makeup to look like the actor William Hurt, Lonsdale, using a British diplomatic passport, few to Nassau to replace the courier on the special diplomatic fight from Nassau to Havana. The fight was operated every Wednesday jointly by the British, Canadian, and Australian embassies.

Ten minutes from Havana, the aircraft, a vintage turboprop, developed engine trouble and limped into Rancho Boyeros Airport after lunch, a half hour behind schedule. While the diplomatic bags were unloaded under Lonsdale's watchful eyes, an inspection of the faulty engine revealed that a blown gasket had been the cause of the trouble. The aircraft could not return to Nassau until a replacement part was properly installed, and the part would have to be flown in on the next available flight from Mexico City, at eleven p.m.

The diplomatic courier and the pilots and cabin crew had to overnight in Havana. The diplomatic duty officer, a single woman, who happened to be the third secretary of the British Embassy, arranged for the crew to be put up at the Hotel Havana Libre while the diplomatic courier was invited to stay at the British ambassador's residence.

What then would be more natural for the diplomatic courier, who claimed he had never been to Havana, than to ask the third secretary to show him the sights?

It didn't take much of an effort to make up a foursome for the evening: the diplomatic courier, the third secretary, the ambassador's sister, and Ivan Spiegel.

When Spiegel arrived to pick up his three guests at the ambassador's residence, he almost had a heart attack when he laid eyes on Lonsdale, but, being a pro, carried on without blinking an eye.

On the way to the Marina Hemmingway the men sat up front and the ladies made polite conversation in the back. Lonsdale turned on the radio and briefed Spiegel about Smythe. “The consensus is that Casas and De la Fuente will be arrested this weekend and so will you.”

Spiegel was sweating. “What do I do?”

“Continue to do what you always do. Be the life of the party as always. You'll dance with all the women, you'll make Oscar dance with the ambassador's sister, who has been briefed about what to tell him. But do not dance with the third secretary, and do not, I repeat, do not remain alone with Oscar for one millisecond. No going to the bathroom together, no telling jokes. Friendly, yes, but not too friendly.”

“And then?”

“You'll pretend to have had too much to drink and will ask me to drive all of us back to the residence, which I will be delighted to do. We'll help you out of the car, and you will stagger into the residence and stay the night. We will try to get you on board the diplomatic fight tomorrow. If that fails you'll stay at the residence until the Cubans are ready to let you go.”

“And if they won't?”

“Don't worry. Several ministers will intercede on your behalf.”

“Including the minister of the Interior?” Spiegel was catching Lonsdale's drift.

“You've got it.”

Spiegel stopped the car. They had arrived.

Friday, December 2

Montreal, Canada

“What do you want for breakfast?” Micheline shouted from the kitchen.

“Bacon and eggs, sunny-side up, toast, marmalade, and coffee,” Lonsdale yelled back from the living room. He folded the newspaper he was reading and padded into the kitchen in his bare feet.

“Don't you ever get bored with this diet?” Micheline was laughing. “Your cholesterol must be sky-high.”

“I control it with copious quantities of good red wine,” Lonsdale replied and kissed her on the cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded and snuggled against him, happy to have him in her home again, happy to forget the previous night's unpleasantness between them.