William Heffernan - Red Angel

Adrianna pulled her arm free and glared at the man who had grabbed her.

“How dare you place your hands on me?” she snapped in Spanish.

At first the man seemed surprised, then his satisfied smile returned.

“I beg your forgiveness, Senorita Mendez,” he said in Spanish.

Adrianna noted there was no regret in his voice.

“Colonel Cabrera wishes to speak with you. State Security has located the remains of your aunt, and it is necessary that you make a formal identification.”

The second man had moved closer so he, too, could grab her if she attempted to run. Adrianna struggled to appear unconcerned.

“I see,” she said. “That is very good news. Please tell Colonel Cabrera that I will come to the Villa Marista later this afternoon. Right now I must see my other aunt, who has been taken ill.”

The first man smirked at her. “I think your aunt has recovered from her illness. She left her home more than an hour ago.” A car pulled to the curb behind him, and he gestured toward it. “I think we will go now.” he said.

Adrianna shook her head. “No. I will wait for my aunt.”

The second man stepped forward and took her wrist. His hand felt like a vise, and as she tried to pull away, he quickly slapped her elbow forward and twisted her arm up behind her back. Adrianna closed her eyes against the pain.

“Do not make us hurt you, senorita,” the first man said. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “Beautiful women should be given pleasure, not pain.”

Adrianna pulled her head away and glared at him. Her anger produced another smile.

“Now I think we will go,” he said. “The colonel has been searching for you for more than a day. And he is a man who does not like to be kept waiting.”

Devlin stood in the apartment window, staring out at the house in Guanabacoa. Cabrera and DeForio had left fifteen minutes earlier, followed by Pitts and two of Martinez’s men.

The owner of the apartment stood behind Devlin muttering in Spanish. Two more of Martinez’s men stood next to the man, whose home had been invaded and temporarily seized with a flash of Martinez’s credentials. Now Devlin watched as Martinez approached the front door of the house across the street.

He knocked and waited until the door was opened by Mattie the Knife Ippolito. He could see the major bobbing his head submissively as he gestured toward the car parked in the driveway. Ippolito simply glared at him, then shut the door in his face.

“A very unpleasant gentleman,” Martinez said when he returned to the apartment. “I simply informed him that I was a mechanic who would be happy to serve him if he had difficulty with his car.” The major smiled. “He was very rude. From his accent I would say he is an American, perhaps even from your own city.”

“You’ve been to New York?” Devlin asked.

“Oh yes,” Martinez said. “I have traveled extensively in your country.”

Devlin stared at him. “Who the fuck are you, Martinez?”

The major made a helpless gesture. “I am a humble police officer. Like yourself, my friend.”

Devlin stared at his shoes. “Okay, Major. From one humble police officer to another, what now?”

“Now we go back to Havana and resume our surveillance. My men will remain here to watch the house. There are also several more watching the rear. They will notify me when we should return.”

“What about the ritual and the nganga ?”

“It will arrive at night, my friend. Perhaps tonight, perhaps tomorrow night. The Abakua palero will not want to draw attention to it. As I told you before, a nganga is not something that goes unnoticed in Cuba.” He placed his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “When the nganga arrives, or when our gentleman from Cobre leaves to go to it, we shall be there. Be assured, my friend. We are coming to the end of this mystery.”

Adrianna sat in a chair in the middle of an empty room. The two men who had taken her from her aunt’s house leaned against the wall watching her. The house they had brought her to was near the Marina Hemingway, and through an open window she could smell the sea and hear the sound of fishing boats returning to port.

Cabrera did not arrive until seven o’clock. He placed himself in front of her, arms folded across his chest.

“Where are you and your friends staying now, senorita?” he asked.

“You know where we’re staying,” Adrianna said.

“Oh yes. The Hotel Inglaterra. I know that much of your clothing is still there. But the hotel informs me that the rooms do not appear to be occupied. Why is that?”

“The hotel is wrong.”

“Ah, I see. And the absence of any shaving implements, or cosmetics, or a simple toothbrush, is undoubtedly another mistake our hotel employees have made, no?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Cabrera stroked his well-trimmed beard and sighed. “It would be so much easier-for you -if you chose to answer my questions honestly. You are unaware, perhaps, that it is against our laws to give false answers to an officer of State Security.”

Adrianna stared at him. “Then I think you should arrest me, and contact the American Interests Section at the Swiss embassy.”

Cabrera threw back his head and laughed. “Perhaps in ten days, senorita.” His face hardened. “If you survive ten days.” He took a step toward her. “I want to know where I can find Senor Devlin and this Senor Pitts I am yet to meet. Then we can bring this matter to a conclusion. As I’m sure you know, it is also unlawful for foreigners to stay in our country without notifying the government of their living arrangements.”

“I don’t know where they are.”

Cabrera raised one hand and the two men left their positions against the wall. Adrianna could feel her legs trembling, and she fought to control them.

“If you refuse to cooperate with me, I will be forced to turn our interrogation over to my men.” He shook his head. “It is something I would regret very much. So, once more, senorita. Where are Senor Devlin and Senor Pitts?”

The door flew open behind Cabrera, and Ollie Pitts filled the frame. He was in a shooter’s stance, and the barrel of his pistol was leveled at Cabrera’s head.

“Your men go for their guns, and you’re a dead man, Colonel.”

Cabrera barked an order in Spanish and the two men froze.

“Who are you?” Cabrera snapped.

“I’m fucking Santa Claus,” Pitts said through a grin. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Adrianna hurried across the room and placed herself behind Pitts. “How did you find me?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you later. Tell those two wahoos to take their pistols out with two fingers, and to lay them gently on the floor. Then they should kick them over here.”

When the two men had followed Adrianna’s directions, Pitts turned his attention back to Cabrera. “You armed, Colonel?” he asked.

Cabrera shook his head.

Pitts smiled. “When I search you, Colonel, if I find out you’re lying, I’m gonna kick you in the nuts.” He reached down and grabbed his crotch. “Comprende? It’s gonna hurt like hell.”

Cabrera glared at him, then reached inside his jacket and withdrew a medium-sized automatic. He laid it on the floor and kicked it to Pitts.

Pitts glanced at it, and smiled. “Now don’t you feel better that you did that, Colonel?” His eyes hardened. “Now handcuffs and keys, plus the keys to both your cars. Tell your men to kick it all over here.”

Pitts collected the weapons and keys, then told Adrianna to cuff the three men together.

When she had finished, he gave Cabrera another grin. “You come out before we’re gone, and I’ll put small holes in your fucking heads, you got that, Colonel?”