William Heffernan - Red Angel

Following in his own car, Argudin thought about the money he would be paid. It was more than he had ever dreamed of having at one time. Enough to take him to Miami, where friends who had been part of Castro’s Mariel Boatlift were now growing rich in the Cuban-American underworld. He momentarily wondered if his men, who would actually do the killing, would escape as well. He decided it did not matter. He had no intention of sharing the money with them. Once it was done, he alone would get the ten thousand U.S. dollars. And he would be one step closer to a new and prosperous life in Miami.

They returned to the Red Angel’s house, where Martinez busied himself on the telephone.

Devlin took Adrianna aside and explained what had happened. As she listened he watched her face darken and her hands close into tight fists.

“I’m snuggling to give him the benefit of the doubt,” she said. “I’m struggling, but it is so hard.”

Devlin stroked her arm. “Martinez says he’ll explain everything-even answer our questions for a change-just as soon as this thing is wrapped up.” He inclined his head toward the room where Martinez was using the telephone. “That includes interrogating Cabrera about your aunt, and nailing Rossi at this change-of-heads ceremony. I think he’s setting those things up now. He’s still positive we’ll end up with your aunt’s body after we do those things.”

Adrianna looked away. “Or what’s left of it,” she said.

“I don’t think we can hang that one on Martinez.”

Adrianna’s head snapped up. “Are you sure? After all this, don’t you think it’s possible he let them take the body so they’d lead him to the rest of it?”

Devlin stroked her arm again, trying to soothe away the anger. “No, I don’t,” he said. “Oh, he played us into it very neatly. There’s no question about that. And he shouldn’t have done it, because it put us at risk. But I saw the setup at the hotel. He had the business part of this thing cold, with us or without us. I think he needed us to help prove that Cabrera had your aunt killed, either because she had found out what he was up to, or because the colonel had cut a little side deal with John the Boss.”

Adrianna stared at him. “You think Rossi might have set this up? Just to get you here?”

“To get us here,” Devlin said. He placed his hands on both of her arms. “Look, I can’t prove it. Maybe I’ll never be able to prove it. If John the Boss set this up, it’s something he’d play very close. Even his Mafia partners wouldn’t know the real reasons behind what he was doing. He wouldn’t tell anybody he didn’t have to. It’s the way he operates. But if it’s true, it was very clever, exactly the way Rossi’s twisted mind works.”

He tried to soften his next words. “It’s no secret that old bastard wants me dead. You were there the first time he tried. But he knows he can’t try again. At least not in New York. If he did, the NYPD would bring the world down on his head.” He looked away, wondering how she’d take what he was about to tell her. “I saw Rossi before we left. I didn’t tell you about it because it was just a routine thing. Then, later, we got all wrapped up with what happened to your aunt.” He gave her a cold, mirthless smile. “It happened the day before we left, and the old bastard was cocky as hell. He told me he knew everything about me.” He shook his head in grudging admiration. “You know what? I believe it. I think he’s made it his business to find out everything he could-everything about me that makes me vulnerable. And that means finding out about the people I love.”

“So you think he found out about my aunt, and how close we were.”

“It wouldn’t be hard. You’re a well-known artist, babe, and your Cuban ancestry has been written about pretty extensively. Your aunt was also a well-known figure in Cuba.”

“And it would make sense that I’d come here if anything happened to her.”

“Yes, it would,” Devlin said. “Especially if you were told she was hurt and dying. And that old bastard was right. He knows me. He knows I wouldn’t let you waltz into Cuba alone, or slip in illegally through Canada or Mexico. Not with all the hoopla the U.S. government spreads about it being unsafe to travel here.”

“And you think Martinez found all that out?”

“At least some of it. And when he realized that Rossi was trying to set me up, I think he decided to get us both here and use us to force DeForio’s hand. And Cabrera’s. Remember, Cabrera’s supposed to be the head of the secret police, as well as the number two guy in State Security. He’s got a lot more power than a major in the national police. But Martinez has us. Suddenly we’re here, and Cabrera can’t get to us, and neither can Rossi, and now we’re involved in the investigation of your aunt’s disappearance. That had to put pressure on Cabrera. But more importantly, it had to make DeForio think that things were starting to unravel. It made the whole thing a threat to what he was trying to do, and all because of your aunt and Rossi, and this crazy change-of-heads ritual.”

“That is a very good theory, and very close to the truth.”

They turned and saw Martinez in the doorway.

“What part is wrong?” Devlin asked.

Martinez smiled at him. “Later, my friend. I promise you. Later you will have all the answers you need. But first, I must do something else. I must go to Cabrera’s house and conduct my interrogation. There are some answers I need, before I can provide answers for you. Are you interested in accompanying me?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Devlin said.

Juan Domingo Argudin was becoming frustrated. Everywhere the American went he was surrounded by Cuban police. His men had followed the gringo to this neighborhood where all the big shots lived, only to find police surrounding the house he had entered.

The police seemed unusually alert, so Argudin decided to be cautious. He stationed his men at both ends of the block, far enough away to avoid suspicion, but positioned so at least one car could follow the American when he left again. His own car was a block and a half away, just close enough to detect any activity at the house. He knew an attack here was impossible. There were simply too many police. He also knew the American would not stay here indefinitely. When he left, they would follow, and sooner or later there would be fewer police. Then, he thought, they would have their chance, and the American would die. Then, finally, his pockets would be filled with ten thousand American dollars.

Martinez left his men behind to guard Adrianna when he escorted Devlin and Pitts to his waiting Chevrolet. He drove the four blocks to Cabrera’s house with the pedal pressed to the floor, the engine of the ancient Chevrolet whining like an angry cat. He was a madman on a mission, Devlin thought.

He turned to Pitts. “You think the major might be anxious to get this done?”

“I dunno,” Pitts said. He leaned over the rear seat. “You anxious, Major? You warming up your rubber hose?”

“It is a pleasure I have been looking forward to for many months,” Martinez said.

“Could cause a bit of a scandal, couldn’t it?” Pitts asked. “I mean two top guys mobbed up like this? A little government plan to let the wiseguys open a casino? A little side deal on narcotics?” Pitts tried to catch Martinez’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He wanted to give him an evil grin.

Martinez stared straight ahead. “It is possible, of course. It is also possible it will never be known here in Cuba.” He glanced at Devlin, a small smile playing on his lips. “It is different here, you see. Trials need only be public when it serves a greater purpose. Some matters that involve our government officials and our military can be handled more discreetly. It is a question of the nation’s morale.”