William Heffernan - Red Angel

“So some of these beach houses belong to the big shots,” Devlin said.

“Yes, some.”

Devlin thought he detected a note of bitterness in his voice. “You are a purist, aren’t you, Martinez?” he said.

“Yes, I am afraid you are right. There is little I would not do to preserve our revolution, or at least the good I believe it has done. But at times it seems a losing battle.”

“But you still fight it,” Adrianna said.

“ Si. Yes, still I fight.” He glanced back again. “Your aunt often called me the Cuban Don Quixote. I am afraid, at times, she was right.”

“But she was the same,” Adrianna said. “Everything I’ve ever heard about her says so. You told me she even argued with Castro.”

“Yes. Yes.” He laughed. “But if I had called her Dona Quixote, she would have chased me down the street.”

Adrianna looked toward the sea, her mind filled with her aunt. “I wish I could have seen her here. Here in Cuba. In her real element.”

Martinez said nothing. He slowed the car. “Up ahead, on that small rise of beach, overlooking the sea. That is the house.”

Adrianna stared out the window. The house was small and neat, with a cluster of coconut palms off to one side, the fronds swaying now in the soft breeze that came off the water. There was a porch that appeared to encircle the entire house, and as their car drew closer, she could see beach chairs placed about it, all of them arranged to face the sea.

There were lights on inside the house, and Adrianna saw shadows on the porch she thought were men. “Do you have people here?” she asked.

Devlin had been lost in his own thoughts, his weariness, and the pain that throbbed in his arm. Now his eyes snapped toward the house. He could see them, too, at least three men, posted well apart. Guards watching every approach.

“How long have you had them here?” he asked.

Martinez ignored him. He picked up his handheld radio. “Let me give a warning that it is only us,” he said.

He spoke rapidly as he pulled the car into the sandy drive that cut into the front yard, then stepped out quickly as one of his men approached. Devlin noticed the man was carrying an Ingram M-10 submachine gun, fitted with a sionic suppressor. It was a small weapon, easily concealed, only ten inches long with the wire stock collapsed, but still capable of repelling a large force, spitting out seven hundred.45-caliber rounds per minute, the suppressor assuring that each round was no louder than a book lightly slapping against a table.

Devlin climbed out of the car, followed by Adrianna and Pitts. He nodded at the weapon. “Pretty heavy firepower, Martinez. And it won’t even wake up the neighbors.”

He could see a faint smile play across the man’s lips as he turned and started toward the house. “Come,” Martinez said. “It is time to finish our little adventure.”

They climbed the front stairs. Another of Martinez’s men opened the front door, then stepped aside to allow Adrianna to enter first. The others followed her into the house, then watched as she seemed to stagger, then come to an abrupt stop.

Across the room, a woman sat in a chair. She was in her early to mid sixties, and her right arm and shoulder were wrapped in heavy bandages.

Adrianna let out a gasp, then raced to her. She fell at the woman’s feet, and Devlin could hear her voice, broken by sobs, begin a rapid, stuttering, disbelief-filled series of questions. The woman cupped the back of her head with one hand and pulled her against her breast and began to whisper soothingly against her cheek.

“Dr. Maria Mendez,” Devlin said.

Martinez nodded. He was fighting off another smile. “ Si , my friend. You are about to meet our beloved Red Angel.” He looked up, eyes twinkling. “When did you realize?”

“Not until I saw your men outside. Then it finally clicked. It was just too much firepower to guard a letter locked in a hidden safe.” He shook his head. “You’re a weasel, Martinez. You had me right up to the last minute. I knew something was phony all along, but I never suspected this.”

Martinez let out a soft laugh. “What is this weasel you are calling me?”

“It’s a sneaky, devious animal. It means you are a royal son of a bitch, Major-or General, or whatever the hell you are.”

Martinez clapped Devlin lightly on the shoulder. “Ah, that is a weasel. Yes, I am all those things. But only when necessary. And this time I assure you it was very necessary to be such a weasel. I could not risk Cabrera finding out that his assassination attempt failed. Even the police officers who came upon the scene were transferred to duties outside the city to make sure the truth would not get back to him.”

“So there was an attempt on her life. That part was real.”

“Oh yes. And it came close to success. The Abakua forced her car from the road, and it burst into flames when it crashed. Fortunately, our Red Angel was thrown from the car. She was found later, still unconscious, when officers stumbled on the scene before the Abakua could finish the task Cabrera had given them.”

“And the body?”

“A friend of our Red Angel. And a most fortuitous event. Except for the fact this woman was killed.” He made an obligatory gesture of regret. “You see, this woman was close to our Red Angel in age and size, and she had no family of her own who might raise questions. Also her body was so badly burned, she could easily be mistaken for the owner of the car.

“When my men realized who the other, unconscious woman was, I was called to the scene, and when I learned the Abakua were involved, I knew it had to be Cabrera’s work, and I immediately ordered the deception.”

“So she’s been hidden here all the time.”

“Yes.”

“Did she know what you were doing? The way you were using her niece?”

Martinez looked horrified. “Oh no. Never.” He glanced across the room. “But I suspect she is learning this now, and that soon I will pay for my sins.”

Devlin turned to the two women. Adrianna was looking at him, tears glistening on her cheeks. He went to them, and knelt before the older woman.

“It’s my aunt,” Adrianna said, barely able to speak the words.

“I know. Martinez just told me what happened.” He reached out and lightly touched the woman’s unbandaged hand. “This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said. “Very unexpected.”

Maria Mendez’s eyes glittered with pleasure. “I, too, am pleased,” she said. “I have heard much about you, but only in letters.” She looked down at his bandaged arm. “I see the intolerable Martinez has put you through much these past days. He is a scoundrel.”

She looked past Devlin, and forced her eyes to harden, but Devlin could tell it was done with effort.

“You will pay for this, Martinez,” she snapped. “Even generals are not immune to my wrath.”

Martinez came across the room, drawing a heavy breath as he approached. “Ah, my beloved Red Angel. It was a necessary pragmatism, only intended to keep you safe.”

Maria Mendez held his eyes in an unrelenting stare. “I have remained safe for sixty-four years without your help. I am sure I could have survived these few days as well. Even in the mountains, with Batista hunting me, I survived. And all of it, when you were sitting on your mother’s knee.” She wagged a finger at him. “You think you must protect me, Arnaldo? You think you are so powerful just because the revolution has made you a general? I think it is time you had a lesson, and learned about my powers.”

“Get him,” Pitts said from behind them. “The man’s a shoofly.”

Martinez ignored him. He raised his hands in a gesture of futility. “I assure you, I have great respect for your powers. We have been friends for many years, and I have watched in fascination as you have tormented members of our government.” He stepped closer, a small smile starting to form. “But I am confident my actions to guarantee your safety will be approved at the highest levels. You are a treasure to our country, Maria.”