William Heffernan - Red Angel

Cabrera glared at him and nodded, and Pitts slowly backed himself and Adrianna out of the room.

Outside, he stepped over the unconscious body of Cabrera’s driver, reached through the open window of his car, and ripped the microphone from his radio. Then he did the same to the second car.

“That should give us time to get the hell out of here,” he said as he took Adrianna’s arm and led her to his own car.

“How did you find me?” she asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

Pitts started the engine and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. “I’ve been tailing Cabrera. His driver went behind the bushes to take a leak, and I decided I’d take a little look around. When I heard your voice through that open window, I gave his driver a little taste of my sap and went in.”

Adrianna leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “He wanted me to tell him where you and Paul were. Once he knew that, I think he was going to kill me, Ollie. And then I think he was going to kill you and Paul.” She opened her eyes and looked at the hulking man she could barely stand to be in the same room with. “If you hadn’t gotten there …” Her voice began to tremble as everything caught up with her. She drew a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said.

Pitts winked at her. “Hey, forget it. Besides, we’re not out of this yet. When Cabrera gets loose, he’s gonna turn this city inside out. So we better find Paul and that sneaky little major. If we don’t wrap this mother up soon, we could end up in one of those goddamn voodoo pots.”

Devlin stared at Martinez. “This was a little too close, Major.”

“You are right, of course.” Martinez pressed an index finger against his lips, thought for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I had hoped to keep our activities more hidden, but that now seems unwise. From this point Senorita Mendez will stay here unless she is with us. While she is here-and while we are elsewhere-two of my men will be inside the house with her, and two more will be stationed across the street. I will have to arrange for them to be out of sight, but that does not concern you.”

Devlin studied him a moment. “These things seem pretty easy for you to arrange. Why is that, Major?”

Martinez resisted a smile. “Ah, not so easy, my friend. Nothing in Cuba is easy. Sometimes it is simply necessary.”

Cabrera arrived at his home shortly after ten that evening. He lived in a two-story stucco house similar to the one occupied by Adrianna’s aunt, and only four blocks distant. Like the Red Angel, he was unmarried, a man who had dedicated his life to his career, and his personal goals for the future.

His driver pulled the car to the curb. Cabrera waited as a second car pulled up behind him and disgorged four men. who immediately moved into positions at the front and both sides of the house. Then Cabrera climbed out and studied the placement of his men. The security was unusual, but after the incident at Marina Hemingway, the colonel had decided not to underestimate the audacity of his American opponents.

Fifty yards down the street, Martinez and Devlin watched Cabrera’s men deploy. They were in Devlin’s rental car, parked in the driveway of an unoccupied house, to which Martinez also had a key. Two of his men were already inside. Again, the major seemed to have come up with just what he needed on very short notice. When questioned about it, he had only smiled.

“Our chess game takes an interesting turn,” Martinez said. “It would seem the colonel has decided the black king needs protection.”

“What’s your next move?” Devlin asked. “I assume you’re playing white in this game.”

“Ah, white has already made its move, my friend. Now a discovered check will be revealed. Watch.”

Satisfied that the men were positioned properly, Cabrera started for the front door. Unlike the Red Angel’s house, his was not hidden behind a high hedge. There had been one initially, but the colonel had ordered it removed to provide a clear view of anyone approaching his home. Floodlights, not presently engaged, also had been installed to illuminate the front and rear yards.

Cabrera climbed the front stairs. Three feet from the darkened front door, he came to an abrupt stop. A circle of cloth hung from the center of the door. There were five black feathers pinned to its surface and arranged in a circle around the skull of a bird.

The colonel felt a sudden chill. He understood the Palo Monte message. A curse had been placed on him, and the mayimbe -the spirit of the dead bird pinned to his door-would follow him everywhere until it was fulfilled.

Cabrera struggled against the fear. It was something instilled in him from his days as a child in the small rural city of Trinidad on Cuba’s southern coast. He felt frozen in place, and had to will himself to move. Slowly, he began to back down the stairs. Then panic set in and he whirled around and ran back toward his still-waiting car, shouting out orders to his men as he fled.

Martinez and Devlin watched Cabrera’s car race away, followed by the car holding his bodyguards.

“Are we going to follow him?” Devlin asked.

Martinez shook his head. “Another of my men will do so.” A small smile played across his lips. “But I suspect he is returning to the safety of the Villa Marista. Perhaps later, when he has calmed himself, he will begin to move again. But, unknown to the colonel, we have people waiting for him. We have the very efficient Detective Pitts at the Hotel Capri, equipped with a radio. And my men are watching the house in Guanabacoa should he later go to the man from Cobre. The lid on our box is closing, my friend.”

“What panicked him?” Devlin asked.

Martinez’s smile became full. “Let us drive down and see.”

Devlin stared at the warning pinned to Cabrera’s door. He turned to Martinez. “You put this here?”

Martinez shook his head. “One of my men saw it earlier and informed me.”

“Plante Firme?”

Martinez nodded.

“And this witch doctor just happened to have the colonel’s home address?”

Martinez took Devlin’s arm and started back to their car. “We must never underestimate powers we do not understand.”

In the dark, Devlin could not tell if the major was smiling again. He suspected he was.

“I think we oughta roust this guy DeForio,” Pitts said. “Put his feet to the fire. Maybe get this witch doctor to plant one of those little curses on his ass.”

Devlin and Martinez had joined Pitts outside the Capri Hotel and had told him about Cabrera’s run-in with the mayimbe.

“It is too early to take Senor DeForio out of play,” Martinez said. “He is here for some purpose we do not yet know.”

“But it doesn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of Maria Mendez’s body,” Devlin said. He was speculating, but at the same time trying to draw Martinez out.

“I suspect you are correct,” Martinez said. “But I know he is connected to Colonel Cabrera, and somehow to the man from Cobre. I want to know what this second connection is.”

“What about this cottage in Guanabo. The one the Red Angel mentioned in the letter Adrianna found?”

“Unfortunately, this cottage remains a mystery,” Martinez said. “I suspect it once belonged to our Red Angel’s father. In the days of Batista, it was common for members of the oligarchy to have such places by the sea. Guanabo is such a village, with hundreds of small houses facing the beach. Most have been turned over to the people living in that region, and some have been awarded to members of the government.”

“Then there should be records of her getting one,” Devlin said.

“Yes, if it was handled that way,” Martinez said. “It does not appear that it was. However, she could have simply kept it as part of her father’s estate. Those records are kept by the Ministry of Interior. They are quite old. Most date to the early days of our government, and have been stored away. Regrettably, they predate our use of computers, so I have arranged for a physical search.”