Havana Harvest (35 page)

Having made the necessary arrangements to ensure De la Fuente's presence in Luanda until Tuesday, the day Casas intended to return to Havana, Casas took De la Fuente for a plane ride early Sunday morning, using the excuse of looking at troop deployments. They landed in Lubango, about four hundred and twenty miles south of Luanda on the Huila Plateau.

From there they took Casas's reinforced all-terrain vehicle to visit the troops dug in south of the highway leading from Mocamedes to Lubango and to Menongue. This line of defense would protect Lobito, Angola's most important port, about two hundred and fifty miles south of Luand, from the South Africans long enough to allow the Cubans to evacuate through Lobito in an orderly fashion.

The inspection tour was not easy to organize. Men of their rank had to be protected. By the time they got underway they had become part of a convoy consisting of a communications/scout car leading the way, followed by Casas's vehicle, and a half-track troop carrier filled with bodyguards bringing up the rear.

Casas was ready to have a showdown with De la Fuente at the earliest opportunity, but the deputy minister surprised him. “Before you get on your high horse again and lose your temper, allow me to explain how I see our respective situations,” De la Fuente said and made himself sound reasonable and conciliatory. “We're both in big trouble and, to tell the truth, neither of us will escape unharmed, let alone unsullied. I'm sure we both spent the night trying to figure out what to do next. You, unlike I, are an idealist who thinks it is immoral, but, at least, amoral, to deal in drugs. I suspect it was you who somehow, frankly I have no idea how, put Fernandez up to defecting.”

Casas began to protest, but his companion stopped him. “Please Patricio, hear me out. Keep driving while I say what I have to say, then park the vehicle somewhere and I promise I will give you all the time in the world to rebut my arguments.”

“Go on, then.”

“Allow me to assume it was you who put Fernandez up to defecting. Your reason: you wanted to alert the Americans to what was going on in Cuba and how low the Cuban government has sunk, running drugs, smuggling ivory, and looting. You might even have entertained the idea of helping the CIA bring the Castro regime down by publicizing these immoral activities and getting public opinion on the side of proponents of a U.S. invasion of Cuba.” De la Fuente took a deep breath and watched Casas carefully as he continued. “As far as I'm concerned, it no longer matters what we think. What matters is to determine how to limit the damage we've done to ourselves, for whatever reason.”

Casas signaled the convoy to pull over. His heart was racing, and he was nauseated with fear. “What do you propose we do next?”

“We have to go back to Havana and continue implicating people. We must also find proof that the government is involved.”

Casas shook his head “Come off it, Oscar. We both know there is no such proof.”

“There can be.”

“There can? What?” Casas sounded doubtful. It was only ten in the morning, but he was already exhausted. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself then gave the order for the convoy to resume moving. They were approaching the Mocamedes Desert. These hot, arid plains used to team with wild life—elephant, rhinoceros, antelope—but, with the advent of modern transport, such as the tough jeep for example, the region was opened to extensive hunting and many fine species, like the mountain zebra, became extinct. The Cubans' presence did not help. They hunted for ivory shamelessly.

“What's the matter with you Patricio, don't you ever listen?” De la Fuente, who could barely wait to get back at his father-in-law for always siding with his daughter against him, pretended to be exasperated. “Don't you remember me telling you about my father-in-law's secret bank account?”

“Of course I do, Oscar.” Casas was also fed up. “But, to tell the truth, I think you're dreaming. Once Fidel gets to know about that little bit of corruption he will simply jail your father-in-law with us and, ultimately, we'll all be shot.”

“Not if I can implement my plan.”

“What plan?”

“A plan whereby I would involve my father-in-law in the drug deal by showing that the drug money in the Panamanian bank account is slowly being transferred to my father-in-law's Swiss bank account.” De la Fuente put his hand on Casas's arm. “Hang in there for a few more weeks Patricio and have confidence. In the end all will come right, you'll see.”

Monday
Washington, DC

On Sunday night, Lonsdale flew home from Miami, and, by Monday morning at seven, he was going over the reports on Fernandez's murder. Unfortunately, the ballistics report the Agency had requested from the Budapest police through Interpol had not yet been received. Lonsdale wasn't surprised. Replies to such requests took weeks rather than days.

Another matter of concern was the lack of detailed information about the interview with Reyes Puma. Lonsdale gathered that the lawyer was very much respected by the police and the INS alike. “Did Fernandez tell him about his new identity?” Lonsdale muttered just as Morton walked through the door, hand outstretched. “Talking to yourself, I see.” He shook his colleague's hand warmly. “Welcome back. You look tanned and rested. How's Micheline?”

“Fine thanks. She's back in Montreal.” Lonsdale decided to cut Morton some slack, figuring he would need all the help he could get to pull Casas out of the mess he was in. “But you don't seem too happy.”

“I am very concerned about Casas.” Morton's face was pasty from lack of sleep.

“Then let's do something about it.”

“But what?”

“Sooner, than later, we'll have to extract him.” Lonsdale looked at Morton. “Have you fixed up the paperwork, authorizing us to save his scrawny neck?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“When I told Smythe that Fernandez was dead, he wasn't pleased, nor was he surprised, which surprised
me.
In any event, when I finished giving him the details he just sat there for a while, mumbling and cursing, with his mind obviously in high gear. Then he said something that surprised me even more.”

“And what was that?”

“He said—and listen to this—‘Tell Lonsdale that his prayers have been answered. He better get his ass in here to see me pronto, but in any event, not later than noon on Monday,’ which is today.”

Lonsdale looked at his watch. “Plenty of time. It's not ten yet. Do you have any idea what he wants from me?”

“I certainly do. He's going to propose a deal to you that you will find very hard to refuse.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“I'd rather he told you himself.” Morton felt at a loss for words. He feared that laying out Smythe's plan there and then would lose him his deputy's friendship forever.

“That bad, eh?”

Morton shook his head. “You'll find out soon enough. That's all I'm permitted to say.” He squared his shoulders. “Let's get on with the rest of it. Are there any questions with regard to those?” He pointed to the pile on Lonsdale's desk.

“Just a few hundred.”

“Like?”

“Like, why was Fernandez not kept in protective custody in the first place? Why was he released to his cousin? Why wasn't the cousin interviewed in depth? Who else beside the cousin knew Fernandez's identity and the time of his release? Does Fernandez have family beside his cousin?”

Morton held up his hands. “Hold on. He was released because the cousin, Reyes Puma, is the most high-profile civil liberties lawyer in Florida and an influential member of the Miami Cuban community. Puma pressured the INS to release Fernandez and negotiated the witness protection deal for him. He volunteered to pick up Fernandez on his release, which the captain welcomed, and off they went. As for the cousin, I can think of no one better to interview him than you.”

“No Jim, I think not.”

“Why on earth not?”

What Lonsdale said next surprised him as much as it surprised Morton. “I don't want to meet the man because I don't want him to know what I look like. I have something else in mind for him.”

“Such as?”

“I want you to interview him. Wear a body wire and transmitter and we'll camcord you from afar. I'll watch and listen in. Then we'll replay the interview, do some voice analysis, and see where it gets us.”

Morton gave in. “OK, we'll do it your way. But first, we had better get over to Smythe's office.”

“Operation Adios may be in trouble,” the Smythe said without preamble.

“How so, Sir?”

“With Fernandez dead we urgently need Casas to produce evidence of the Cuban government's involvement in the drug trade.”

“I haven't heard from him recently.”

“I know. You were on vacation. But you're back now, so get busy. Go to Cuba if need be, but get things going before it's too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“Nobody killed Fernandez or this fella' Siddiqui, or the coin dealer Schwartz just for the fun of it. They had a pressing reason. Question is, who?” He looked at Lonsdale.

“There are a number of people who may want him dead.”

“Such as?”

“The Colombians, for betraying their banking and other procedures, or for absconding with what they may perceive as being their money.”

“Unlikely.”

“The Cuban government, to eliminate the only witness who can tie Casas and De la Fuente to the second-highest-ranking Cuban government official, namely the minister of defense.”

“You've got somethin' there.”

“Then there is the minister himself, God bless him, acting as an independent free enterpriser.”

“Any more?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Lonsdale gave Smythe a warm smile. “General Casas himself, in a noble gesture of self-sacrifice, to save the Revolution embarrassment, which would, incidentally, drag our friendly agent, Charley De la Fuente, down with him. In this scenario, Casas would go on trial with De la Fuente and Casas would take the blame … by confessing.”

“You're really digging deep.” Smythe was not happy. “Of course that last scenario we wouldn't want to see unfold, unless absolutely unavoidable.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Well then, what do you propose we do?”

“Director Smythe, I came here under the impression you had some sort of a suggestion that would make both of us feel comfortable with this operation. Am I to understand that you are now asking me to develop a plan?”

The old man nodded. “You've almost got it right. I have a suggestion that would make me feel comfortable.”

“Tell me what you want, and I'll tell you if I can live with it.”

Smythe turned to Morton “Set things up for us, will you please.”

Morton obliged. “Our analysts believe the Cuban government is behind the killings. I say killings in the plural, because they believe Siddiqui, Schwartz, and Fernandez were killed by the same people. There can be only one reason for these killings.” Morton was adamant. “The Cuban government found out about the drug operation and although it is convinced that the operation is a free-enterprise deal created by De la Fuente and Casas—in other words not one inspired by us—it cannot take the risk of allowing the Cuban government to be linked to drugs, even remotely.”

“That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?” Lonsdale interrupted.