Karen Harper - Falling Darkness

“But grounded in reality?” Claire challenged. “Reality is pretty awful right now. I’m so shaky. I just hope I can help her, calm her.”

“You’re taking your meds?”

“Thank God, I brought extra. Nick, if I run out, I—”

Gina called back from ahead of them, “There it is! And, look, Berto, it looks fine, maybe like the old days, yes?”

Nick saw his friend wipe his eyes again. Ahead of them where Gina pointed, Nick recognized the big hacienda from a photo Heck used to have as a screen saver on his laptop. This large, two-story white building could have stepped intact from the past. Its wood-and-glass windows were thrown wide open on the top floor. The well-kept place sported a filigree of black iron balconies, an orange tiled roof, white curtains fluttering at an upper window, an ornate, gated entry with painted tiles and the musical sound and spray of a fountain within all framed by blooming pink-and-white bougainvillea.

They all stood and stared. Finally, Heck spoke. “Just like it was before my family had it taken away with the hotel and our country house—had our lives taken away. Look, some sort of sign by the gate, there on the wall.”

He walked across the street. Nick could not name the make of the squat black car that sat in the entry on the other side of the closed gate. They all waited nervously as Heck studied the sign and the car. Gina went over and stood next to him. When they came back, Heck said, “A Russian name, a Russian company, a Russian-made car, a Lada. No way we can ask to look inside.”

Gina said, “Some fine old places in this area are being bought by foreign investors who cozy up to—to you-know-who. I think these places once government offices, so it saved them. My roommate Francesca has a special friend like that. He’s rich, from Hong Kong, investing here and other places in the Caribbean. I think most of these people paying the Castros.” Again, though no one but them was visible on the street, she lowered her voice when she said anything about the Castros.

But when her words sank in, Nick jerked alert. “Her special friend is from Hong Kong? Not American?”

“Oh, there a few of those here too, but not legal unless they make good deals with—with you-know-who. There are getting to be more foreign fish in the sea here, like my father says.”

Lexi piped up. “Are we ’lowed to talk about that bad man that took me? He had a house like this with a fountain. And lots of fish swimming inside tanks that ate other fish, but Lily wasn’t afraid of them.”

Claire tugged Lexi away and leaned down to whisper something to her. It hit Nick hard that this could well be the area where Ames would put down roots in Havana. If he could just find out if and where he was in this El Vedado area, he could somehow let Patterson know where to find the bastard, not that the FBI or the marines guarding Guantanamo could swoop in to arrest and deport him.

Nick whispered to Heck, “There has to be a way to learn who is here and where, and I don’t mean Castro.” When Gina came closer again, Nick went on, “Berto, someday, maybe if the US relaxes the embargo and relationships get better, you can come back, visit the place. But we don’t need to be dealing with the Russians that run that business right now.”

“And meanwhile,” Heck said, “we got more important things to do. We shouldn’t be concentrating on getting into someplace, but getting out.”

* * *

Though Claire felt exhausted, she talked Gina out of taking the shortcut through the cemetery again to get back to her student housing. Claire knew she needed to have a firm, private talk with Lexi soon. If it was some comfort to her to have an imaginary friend for a while, perhaps there was nothing wrong with that. But the child seemed not only disturbed but defiant, and that wasn’t like her. Claire had psyched out her own daughter before when times were tough, but not under such daunting circumstances.

She let Nita take Lexi up into Gina’s building with her and Bronco, while she, Nick and Jace hung back by the ruined swimming pool for a quick conference.

Jace, with a pointed look at Claire, said, “I understand longing for old times and people loved and lost. But I hope Heck has his anger about wanting his family’s property back out of his system.”

Claire was grateful Nick decided to ignore that. Or had Jace not meant anything personal by it? Was she the one seeing trouble behind every tree, every house, every tomb?

Nick said only, “Let’s clear out of here, get a taxi to the airport, then one to the hotel. I’m going to follow Patterson’s emergency plan for covert contact. Too bad it has to come from a Havana hotel and not Heck’s laptop in Northern Michigan.”

“We have no choice but to trust Patterson,” Jace agreed. “But the thing is, WITSEC deals in deception, so how do we know he’s really working for Uncle Sam and not your phony ‘uncle’ Clayton Ames?”

Claire put in, “And how do we even know we can trust Gina? I’m reading her that we can, but how ambitious is she? And did she mean it when she said that she’d like to go to the States, except for the fact it would kill her parents? Well, she didn’t mean it like that. I’m even worrying about Lexi. She has to be my first concern, despite the way you men handle things.”

They stopped talking when a strikingly beautiful girl, a bleached blonde, no less, overly made up, more or less slithered down the back stairs and sashayed past them. She ignored Claire but batted her long lashes and smiled at Jace, then Nick. Her skirt was short and looked painted on her ripe body. How she managed such high heels on the broken terrazzo walk was amazing, Claire thought.

She found her voice as the woman disappeared onto the street. “That’s a student living here?”

They’d evidently stayed behind too long, because Gina came down the stairs looking for them with Heck right behind her as if he were her bodyguard now.

“Did you see my former friend Francesca?” Gina asked them, propping her hands on her hips. “Oh, yes, I see by the look on the men’s faces you did. She said she’s moving out for good, right now, didn’t want any of her things. I can sell some, but that means more money for rent every month from the rest of us, and none of us can afford it.”

“She’s not a student, then, is she?” Claire asked, trying to keep the edge from her voice. Why did she always feel she was conducting a forensic psychology interview on this woman for some sort of crime? She hated not being able to trust the person who probably held their safety in her hands.

“Well—she started out that way,” Gina admitted with a shrug. “Before she met her so-called special friend at a paladore—a private restaurant—where she was working at night. Now she good as spitting on her former friends. Truth is, she what is called a jinetera. You see them up where the foreigners go, even on the streets. She did not start out that way, but took her chance.”

Heck said, “But jinetera means a female jockey. She rides horses? That woman?”

Gina frowned and shook her head. “Called that because the foreign men with money—well, you see, she ride them, in more ways than one.”

“A prostitute?” Heck demanded.

“Yes, but not like—not like a whore. Jineteras, they choose real careful, stick with only one man. It’s different here, Berto,” Gina insisted, her voice rising too. “She stay faithful, he buy her nice presents, visit her family. If he’s a rich foreigner, he might take her to his country, like Francesca says she going. That’s why she doesn’t want her stuff. I know one got married.”

Heck swore under his breath and grabbed her arm to spin her slightly toward him. “You never did that, did you? You said you want to go with me. I’m not rich. You don’t think that—”