Angel in the Full Moon (16 page)

“
Granma
?” asked Laura. “Sounds like you were in an old folk's home.”

“Actually, it is the name of the official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Cuban Communist Party.
Granma
was the name of the yacht that brought Fidel Castro to Cuba in 1956 to start the Cuban Revolution.”

“So what's it got to do with these children?”

“The newspaper is not what you would call a free press. But one thing was obvious. They take great pride in looking after and educating their children. There was also an article about them assisting Venezuela with their illiteracy problem.”

“Most appear to live in squalor, but ...”

“Exactly. They still work hard to improve themselves. You can see it in their faces. I've been through ghettos in Canada where people sat waiting for handouts. Maybe we could learn something from these people.”

“I suspect the government of Cuba is too poor to give much in the way of handouts,” replied Laura.

Jack and Laura met Donato as scheduled and he took them to a more popular tourist area in Havana. The area
was comprised of a few square blocks where many of the buildings had been restored. It was also where the Arab restaurant was located. Another restaurant that was also a microbrewery was just down the street and they went there for lunch.

“You both went for a walk this morning,” said Donato. “What do you think of my Havana?”

“Fifty years ago, I believe that this would have been the most beautiful city on the planet,” said Jack. “It still is beautiful, but ...”

“Yes, I know,” said Donato sadly. “The American embargo. It has taken its toll. Medicine, school supplies, parts for automobiles ...”

“From what I have seen,” said Jack, “the Americans have forced the Cuban people to walk barefoot over the coals ... but they have never brought you to your knees.”

Donato smiled, and said, “They never will. Still, it is difficult to understand why amends have not been made.”

“Allowing Russia to plant missiles here to be used against the Americans—can you really blame them for the retaliation?” asked Jack.

“That was in 1962,” said Donato. “I, like most of my countrymen, weren't even born yet. The American mafia was taking over our country. Casinos, gangsters, drugs ... was it so wrong to kick them out and invite the Russians?”

“It does seem like a long time to punish someone,” said Laura. “Will peace ever be made?”

“I have a theory on that,” said Jack, watching Donato's face closely. “I think there is more to it than the missiles. Back in the early 1960s, Fidel was targeted by the Kennedy administration on numerous assassination attempts.”

“This is true,” said Donato, eyeing Jack curiously.

“JFK was assassinated in 1963,” continued Jack. “I think
that Fidel was exasperated and struck back. I also think the CIA is aware of this and will never allow peace between your countries as long as Fidel is in power.”

Donato looked around nervously and said, “It is not good to talk of such things. No politics, please.”

For Jack, it brought home the realization that he was in a communist country.
Freedom to express or exchange ideas could bring retribution.

Jack was concerned that he had upset Donato, but within minutes, Donato was smiling and later took them on a drive around the city.

They returned to the Saint John's at four o'clock and the three of them waited in Jack's room. The Russians had slept most of the day, but it was reported that each one was now cleaning up and getting dressed to go out.

Conversation in Jack's room was minimal and stilted, as each wondered what tonight—and the future—would bring.

At five o'clock, Donato drove them back to the vicinity of the Al Medina. He parked the car and took them to a nearby church with a high cathedral entrance.

“You've got an OP in a church?” asked Jack.

“What is an OP?” asked Donato.

“Observation post.”

“Yes, I see. It is not a church anymore. The government has turned it into a museum. It is closed to the public at this hour.”

Jack was going to ask how the parishioners felt about their church being closed, but decided against it.

Donato led them to a small room in the back and they went inside and closed the door.

“We can't see from here,” said Jack.

“It is not to see,” said Donato. “It is to listen,” he said, gesturing to a mass of electrical cord and recorders on a table. “Others will see for us,” he explained. “Don't worry, there will be many pictures. This is for you and Laura to listen. You will hear with your own ears.”

“I would have believed you,” said Jack, realizing the work Donato went to in setting up this room. He understood why they would not have been allowed entry to the normal facility the Cubans would use for such activity.

Donato smiled and said, “Yes, my friend. I trust you, too. But if it ever happens that someone finds out that this meeting was in Havana, they may not believe what you tell them if you only receive the details from me. It is best to hear for yourselves. You may make notes if you like, but I will also supply you with a tape of what they say. You could record it on your own recorder, if you like.”

“Thanks. We'd never be allowed to enter the tapes as evidence in a Canadian courtroom, but it still might be good to have.”

Donato received a call on a portable radio and said, “They've just taken a taxi,” he said. “They are on their way.”

The Russians arrived about ten minutes ahead of their reservation, but their table was ready and they sat down.

Donato turned up the volume on a recorder and Jack and Laura could hear Fat Man and Moustache Pete talking to each other in Russian, over the clink of ice cubes and water being poured.

“I know their voices by now,” said Donato. “I will translate for you. Moustache Pete just said something about an incident at the airport. I do not know what airport. He said they still have to be careful.”

Jack heard the Fat Man laugh and make a comment.

Donato looked puzzled and translated. “Fat Man said,
that is why they carry insurance. With the police, insurance is always good.”

Insurance?
Wondered Jack. Is there a leak? A crooked cop or someone ...

“They've arrived,” said Donato. “Two Arab men. Expensive suits, Rolexes ...”

Jack heard the conversation switch to English when the two Arabs sat down with the Russians.

After some general polite talk, Jack heard one of the Arabs ask, “So, when can you deliver?”

“Our people in Sweden were successful,” said Moustache Pete. “We have two that would be most suitable. Sisters raised by a single mother. They're thirteen and fifteen years old. Both have blonde hair, blue eyes, and, as we promised, their skin is as white as snow.”

Jack's mouth gaped open in surprise. “This is white slavery!” he said. “Not drugs or terrorism at all!”

The recorder droned on. “And beautiful?” asked the Arab.

“Of course,” laughed the Fat Man. “Their mother thinks they are being accepted as models to do a photo shoot in Morocco. They are both beautiful! As promised, we will make delivery in June. Their mother is adamant about them finishing the school year.”

“And virgins ...” the Arab's voice was lost over Jack's outrage.

“These bastards are kidnapping kids to sell to the Arabs to be used as sex slaves!”

Laura saw a sense of relief on Donato's face. A potential crisis with the U.S. had just been averted. She felt relieved herself, until she looked at Jack.

Is he enraged ... or in pain? He's been around too long to be shocked by this. Why such anguish?

Back at the hotel in Jack's room, Donato raised a glass of rum and Coke and said, “It went well tonight. I wish you every success in putting these two Russians in jail.”

“Hear, hear,” said Laura, clinking glasses.

“They will go to jail,” said Jack. “If it is the last thing I do on the section, I will see to that.”

“Perhaps, now,” said Donato, “your boss, Captain
Pendejo
,” he added, smiling at Laura, “will realize that they were worthy of your attention.”

“Perhaps,” said Jack, “except we can't tell him what we learned or that we were even here. He would have us both fired. Regardless, even if I'm not in the section long, I will still get these guys.”

“Come on, Jack,” said Laura. “Like you said before, Quaile is fast-tracked up the corporate ladder. He won't be around long. We just have to outlast him.”

“Moustache Pete and The Fat Man are going down,” said Jack adamantly, “one way or the other.”

“No problem,” said Laura, eyeing Jack curiously. “We just continue to work on them behind Quaile's back. Knowing what we know now, I bet these two are supplying the women for Tran's massage parlours. We could get VPD to help us, or we could help them. Now that we know what they're really doing, it shouldn't take us long to get the evidence we need.”

“Jack, Laura,” said Donato, “if you will excuse me, I still have work to do tonight. I will be here in the morning to take you to the airport.”

Laura waited until they bid good night to Donato, before turning her attention to Jack. “You going to tell me about it?” she asked.

“About what?”

“You're keeping something from me. A secret.”

“A
secret
?” Jack spat out the word like it was poison.

“Yes, a secret,” repeated Laura.

Jack put his glass down on the table and turned to Laura and said, “It's funny you used that word. Let me tell you about
a secret
.”

By the tone of Jack's voice, Laura knew there was nothing funny about what she was about to hear.

“Did you know I used to have three sisters and a brother?” he asked.

Laura shook her head and said, “I just knew you had an older sister, Elizabeth, who lives out near Chilliwack.”

“I was raised in a family of
secrets
,” said Jack. “My father was a brutal, domineering prick who ruled the house with absolute power. That power included sexually molesting my sisters from the time they were four years old.”

Laura briefly closed her eyes and said, “Oh, Jack ... I'm sorry. I didn't know that.”

Jack sighed and said, “Neither did I, back then. I knew about the physical and psychological abuse ... but even as a policeman, I didn't know about the sexual abuse until recently.”

“Jack ... I'm sorry. Maybe this is something you don't want to talk about?”

Jack shook his head. “That is what the pedophiles like my father want. To keep everything secret. To try and make the children ... the victims, somehow think they are responsible. They make the children think that they have to keep the secret to maintain family unity. I'm not embarrassed to talk about it. No victim should be, either.”

“How did you find out?” asked Laura.

“My youngest sister, Bonnie, finally found the courage to tell me. Once I knew, then others admitted they had been victims, too. It turns out there were a lot. Neighbourhood children, relatives—even before my father was married, he
visit orphanages and bring candy.”

“Classic,” said Laura.

“It was classic, all right. My oldest sister left home as soon as she could. Got married, had kids, but died of complications giving birth to her third child. I knew she hated my father and was extremely protective of her children—but I was too blind to put it together.”

“Pretty tough to believe that about your own family,” said Laura, softly.

“I know. I felt like I was in shock when I found out. Bonnie moved out of the house early as well. I thought it was because of the psychological abuse and the physical beatings. But the signs were there ... and I missed them.”

Laura saw the recrimination and guilt on Jack's face as he spoke.

“In any other family,” he continued, “I would have suspected it immediately, but with my own, the idea was incomprehensible. Bonnie lived alone in a trailer near Rocky Mountain House and took in all the stray animals that crossed her path. Classic symptoms, yet I missed it.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” said Laura. “It is normal not to believe—not to want to believe, something like that even exists. Let alone with your own family.”

Jack brushed her comment aside and continued, “Bonnie died of alcoholism a couple of years ago ... another classic symptom. I wanted so much to put him in jail, but none of the victims I found were willing to testify. The real sad thing is, all his victims lived with such a deep shame that they couldn't find the courage to come forward. As a result, dozens upon dozens of other children were molested.”

“Where was your mother through all this?” asked Laura.

“That is something else I'm ashamed of. When Bonnie first told me, I naively imagined that my mother didn't
know. Of course she knew. All this couldn't take place in a home without her knowing. Later I discovered that when they babysat children, my father would make his selection and my mother would take the other children for a walk so they wouldn't see what was happening.”

“What kind of mother could allow that to happen?” said Laura, shaking her head.

“When I first found out and confronted my father, he was afraid he would be arrested. I actually made him write letters of apology. My mother threatened to make life hell on my sisters if I took any action. She reminded me that Bonnie was an emotional wreck and basically implied that if I did anything, her suicide would be on my hands.”

“God ... that's awful.”

“Tell me about it. Now my father is in really poor health. A good lawyer could delay the proceedings until he dies. Hopefully I can celebrate that day soon. When the bastard first realized I couldn't put him in jail, he would mock me on the phone. He loved to make people angry. I guess it made him feel powerful.”