“No, Pasqual doesn’t know about our father,” continued Alejandro as Qui studied the features so like Pasqual’s. “No one does, not even Father Cevalos who thinks the rumors of Blood Lake are just that…rumors and superstitions.”
“Pasqual has no memory of his father, does he?” she asked.
“None but what I’ve told him. In many ways, Pasqual is innocent. As for my father, he was a lot like Pasqual. A kind man, deeply committed to his beliefs, or so say those few who remember him.”
“Perhaps you are not so different,” suggested Qui. “From where I stand, I’d say you’re just as committed to your beliefs.”
He ignored her implication, sipping at his Cabernet. “As I said, facts spilling from the lips in a deathbed confession. Better than words from the living, whispered in one of Cevalos’s confessionals, I think.”
“Qui,” began JZ, “we’ve found a much needed ally here, one who can drop the last pieces in place.”
“You think so, Mr. Zayas? Perhaps you’re more astute than we give you Americans credit for.” His dark eyes stared at JZ. “Then, again, perhaps you presume too much.”
“Is JZ right, Mr. Valdes?” she asked. “Can you answer our questions?”
“More than you may wish to know, but I have stipulations before I answer any question.”
“And your demands?”
“I require absolute anonymity and immunity, Lieutenant Detective,” he announced. “No one, here in Cuba,” he paused to look at JZ, “or in your respective institutions in America, are to know I have talked to you about these matters. No one.”
“I can grant you both so far as the American Interest Section is concerned, and I’m certain there’ll be no problems with the other ‘institutions’ as you put it. I have full authority to get answers, and I can assure you, if you help us, we’ll help you.”
“I want it in writing,” countered Alejandro, “with your signature affixed, Mr. Zayas.”
“Done,” JZ said firmly. “Do you have pen and paper?”
“On the desk.”
“Not so fast,” said Qui as JZ sat at the desk and began scribbling. “I don’t have such authority; I’m only a PNR detective, and I don’t trust my colonel as far as I can throw him. In fact, I don’t know who I can trust.”
“You can trust Colonel Emanuel Cordova of the Santiago PNR. He’s a rare man, incorruptible.”
“And the SP?” Qui asked.
“Leave the SP to eat itself alive within the next day, maybe two.”
“You know something we don’t know?”
Alejandro looked at her, nodded, and smiled, “I have many secrets. Not all of them can be shared.” He tipped his wine glass at her, “Your father is right to call you ‘little bird,’ Lieutenant Detective. It suits.” Downing the last of the wine, he continued, "Do you know the American bird, the Peregrine?”
“No. And what has it to do with this case?”
“The Peregrine falcon, although small, is quite ferocious. At hunt, it can dive at extreme speeds, 200 miles per hour, headfirst, catching its prey completely unaware.”
JZ, signed paper in hand, smiled at the apt comparison. “So if Qui is the falcon, who is the prey?”
“Our little bird is not sure she can trust me yet, Mr. Zayas. She thinks I want her tethered, that I feed her morsels and not the whole kill. So we will not trade facts at this time.”
Qui glared at the man and repeated, “I do not have authority to make such an offer of silence, of anonymity to you. There is no one I can get such assurances from.”
“No one to trust, you mean. Then, you must make such assurances to me personally, Lieutenant Detective. You are an honorable woman.”
“You know nothing of me. You and I are strangers.”
“But I do know enough about you, Ms. Aguilera, to trust your word.”
“The SP has a file on me? Is that what you’re saying?” Qui retorted, tired of the man’s insolence.
“ I have a file on you, as I do on Sergio Latoya, on your father, even on Dr. Arturo Benilo. My private files.” He looked at JZ and continued, “and yes, one on you too, Mr. Zayas. Interesting history you have.”
Qui felt a cold dread seep from her gut through her veins. “Are you threatening me…us, Mr. Valdes?”
Alejandro turned to JZ and smiled. “You like this one? Her feathers ruffle easily.”
JZ replied somewhat testily, “Like the lieutenant, I’m not one for cat and mouse games, Mr. Valdes.” He held out the signed note. “Do we have a deal?”
With a sudden turn of mood, Alejandro accepted the paper. “Of course, you’re right. No time for games, we must be about our business. This affair at the Forteleza is dangerous, and I might already be caught in a spider’s web.” Scanning the paper, he occasionally nodded. He then wrapped the note with his knuckles, saying, “Thank you Mr. Zayas.”
Qui asked “What sort of danger?”
“Without your written assurance,” he said, talking her arm and walking her to the door, “that’s not something I will discuss with you.” He opened the door and urged her out.
When Qui objected, JZ said, “Let me handle this, Quiana. Like I said, I have authority to seal this bargain, and as you’ve admitted, you don’t.”
Pushing her across the threshold, Alejandro added, “Here’s a parting gift for you, Lieutenant. Your boss bas been under scrutiny for time, and I predict that you won’t have to suffer him much longer.”
A reluctant, frustrated, and now puzzled Qui glared at both men as the door closed in her face.
Moments later, Alejandro closed the balcony doors and turned the bedside radio on. “Casa Grande has had the most extensive renovation…if you count the electronics.”
“So the walls have ears.”
“Our mutual circumstances dictate caution.” Alejandro waved in salutation to indicate the coffee setup on the nearby table.
Helping himself to slices of fresh fruit, JZ settled in at the table.
“Mr. Zayas, you must tell me how you managed to get Cavuto to blow the wrong boat. He spoke of a spectacular explosion. Even laughed about it in private last night.”
“Ruiz blew a rowboat which we set adrift with the bomb and Luis’s Christmas tree lights,” explained JZ, finding that he liked this man, despite all the shades of gray about him.
Chuckling, Alejandro joined JZ at the table. “So Cavuto made yet another mistake…a rowboat, he blew up a fucking rowboat!”
Once the laughter faded, Alejandro said, “Now, I will tell you this, the man at the center of these murderers is Humberto Arias as I’m sure Father Cevalos or Pasqual has already told you.” Alejandro paused, his face now tight with anger. “Arias is the lowest form of life…scum.”
JZ felt the depth of hatred for Arias that this man had carried all his life; it radiated outwards in palpable waves. “Yes, so we’ve been told. And I know how deadly this game is. You’re in danger too I assume.”
“It’s an unstable playing field to say the least. Changes with the vagaries of Arias’s mood swings. And a warning, Zayas. Cavuto Ruiz is also here in Santiago.”
“Ruiz? Does he know we’re alive and in Santiago?”
“I don’t think so, but he has spies everywhere, and he’s here with Colonel Gutierrez-my soon to be brother-in-law. Should those two jackals learn you’re still breathing…you’ll both be hounded to an early grave.”
“So is it Ruiz or the colonel we have to worry about?”
“Both are Arias’s attack dogs carrying out orders neither really understands.”
“I’ve had some dealings with Gutierrez. Seemed a useless bureaucrat.”
“The man’s a poison toad who just looks harmless, but it’s Ruiz who’s as deadly as he looks. Still, the real monster here is Arias.”
“Tell me how it all fits together.”
Alejandro began to muse aloud, pacing as he said, “As a boy, standing on that cliff…seeing the flames consume my mother…I couldn’t watch. I turned away and saw lights down at the lake. Like toy soldiers, men marched along the lake, their arms loaded, tossing whatever it was onto a boat. God meant that I see it and remember it. I was being shown the two events were connected, and I’ve never forgotten.”