“They are hunting for me all over Havana,” Ramon said two nights later. He’d shown up at the safe house after midnight.
“Why?” Luis asked.
“Where have you been, amigo?” Ramon looked annoyed. “The Pacelli girl ran away the night before she was supposed to leave Cuba. You didn’t know?”
Luis wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Ramon’s eyebrows arched. “She’s not here, is she?”
Luis hesitated then yanked a thumb towards the back of the house. “In the bedroom.”
For an instant Ramon’s eyes widened. Then he flashed Luis a dazzling smile and threw open his arms. “My brother! You did it! We did it! We are—”
Before Ramon could embrace him, Luis waved his hand. “No. No ransom.”
“Of course there is. It’s part of the plan.”
“No, Ramon.” Luis’s voice was firm.
Confusion swam across Ramon’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“She and I—we—”
“We are together.” Frankie’s voice cut in from the back of the room.
Ramon spun around. Frankie stood there, in Luis’s shirt and not much else. Her hair was mussed, as if she’d just woken up. He sputtered in disbelief. “This—this is impossible. Luis, tell her what is really going on.”
Luis met his gaze. “I did.”
Ramon’s mouth fell open. “Then, it is true? You and she—”
Luis nodded.
Ramon was speechless. Then, “You are mad. You have betrayed us. And the revolution. Everything you stand—stood for—is ruined!”
“No, Ramon,” Luis said. “I am in love.”
“The result is the same,” Ramon said. “We are finished.”
“Ramon,” Frankie said, “Luis has given me his word no danger will come to me. I trust him.” She seemed to straighten. “In return, I won’t interfere with his—your activities.”
Ramon eyed her suspiciously, then looked at Luis. “This is true?”
Luis nodded.
Ramon was quiet for a long minute. “Well, you’d better not let the rest of the men find out. They will not understand.”
Luis and Frankie exchanged glances.
Ramon went on. “But there is another, more pressing problem. Pacelli put a dragnet out for me.”
“Why?”
Ramon gestured at Frankie. “She used me to contact you. At La Perla they are saying I am the one she ran away with.”
“I’m sorry, Ramon,” Frankie said. “It’s my parents. Not me.”
He ignored her. “l haven’t been home in days. My mother is going crazy. I was hoping to stay here, but now…” He let his voice trail off.
“Of course you will stay here,” Luis said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Ramon, we must stay together. Events are beginning to accelerate.”
“But this is not what we planned.” Ramon gestured toward Frankie.
“We will get our money. But not through kidnapping. That’s what I want to discuss tonight.”
Ramon lifted his chin toward Frankie. “You are going to tell them about her?”
Luis shifted. “In time. But tonight I must ask you not to tell anyone she is here. When the time is right, I will tell them.”
“I don’t like this, Luis.”
“If I thought her abduction would help our cause, I wouldn’t have called it off. But they will never fork over the ransom. They will set a trap instead. So I have a new strategy to discuss. Believe me, Ramon, nothing has changed. We are brothers in the revolution. And we stay that way.”
Ramon wasn’t convinced.
The meeting didn’t break up until dawn. Luis thought Frankie was asleep when he came to bed, and he tried not to disturb her when he crawled in. But she stirred and with a warm, sleepy sigh twined her legs around his. He breathed in the scent of her, felt her heat. The bed was small, but they didn’t need much room. Afterwards, they lay sweaty and hot, the sheet tangled between their legs.
“Francesca, I have a question.”
Frankie drew abstract designs on his chest with her finger. She loved the feel of his chest hair, she claimed. “Of course.”
“I—I know you are not a virgin, but—”
“I’ve only been with one other man, Luis, and he was—”
“I don’t care that you have been with another man. But,” he paused. “Tell me. Were you in love with him?”
Frankie bit her lip. She didn’t want to think about Nicky. In fact, she’d been forcing herself not to. She loved Nicky, but not the same way as Luis. Still, Nicky had been a big part of her life, and she hadn’t told him about Luis. She stopped fingering his chest. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You are my oxygen. My sun. I can not live one day without you.”
Luis gazed at her. Then he nodded.
“What about you, querido?”
He caught a lock of her hair between his fingers, felt its soft, velvety curl. “There has never been anyone except you.”
She smiled contentedly, and snuggled in closer. “How did the meeting go?”
“Ramon did not say anything. I give him credit for that. With everyone searching for him, the pressure must be enormous.”
She brushed her hand across his forehead. “Do you trust him?”
“We have known each other since we were children.”
“That is not an answer, mi amor,” she said. “You are no longer children.”
A few hours later Tony Pacelli’s private business phone rang.
“I have the information you’ve been looking for,” a male voice said in Spanish.
“Who is this and how did you get this number?”
“Do you want to know where your daughter is?”
“Is she all right?” Tony asked.
“She is safe.”
“Where is she?”
“In a house. Not far from here.”
“You kidnapped her.”
The caller was silent. The fact that he didn’t contradict Tony spoke volumes.
“How much do you want?”
“Twenty thousand dollars. Half now. Half on delivery.”
It was Tony’s turn to be silent. Finally, he said, “I need to meet with you.”
“No. I will give you a drop for the first payment. Then you will receive further instructions.”
Tony clenched his teeth. People saw too many gangster movies in Cuba. Too many movies, period. Batista probably figured the films, which seduced Cubans with their tales of heroism, fantasy, and romance, kept the people docile. Tony might have a piece of a movie theater, he thought. He couldn’t remember.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? Other people know she’s gone. You could be a two-bit con man trying to shake me down. I need proof you have her.”
“I will leave a piece of her clothing at the drop.”
Tony was quick with a reply. “Not good enough. Her mother and I do not know what she was wearing when she left. You could buy a trinket at El Encanto, try to convince us it was hers.”
More silence on the other end. Tony wasn’t sure if he was winning or losing. The caller clearly had the power. Then again, Tony was a good negotiator. He should be able to regain the advantage. He was trying to think two steps ahead when he realized this wasn’t a negotiation to be won or lost. This was his daughter. He had to accept reality. At least for now.
“Where will you leave this ‘proof’?”
“Go to the janitor’s storeroom at La Perla at three PM this afternoon. You will have your proof. But only if the money has been paid in advance.” Ramon gave him the address of a Western Union near La Perla and told him to make sure the money was there by two. Addressed to Señor Diego Juarez.
But Tony Pacelli surprised himself. “No. No money until I am convinced you have my daughter and she is unharmed.”
The response was a click, then a dial tone. Tony made a call.
Ramon debated long and hard before he called Tony Pacelli. On the one hand, Luis was his oldest friend. They’d been inseparable. Ramon’s father worked with Luis’s father on a sugar plantation in Oriente until he dropped dead. When the boys were eighteen they moved to Havana to attend university together. They scrounged jobs, working as busboys, messengers, and movie ushers to make ends meet. When things were really bad, Ramon dove for pesos off the rocks at Regla. Then La Perla opened and advertised for workers, claiming they’d pay higher wages than any other resort. Ramon, who had never been a good student, dropped out of university and went to work.
Through everything they had been loyal to each other, sharing their adventures and confidences. When Ramon first slept with a girl, he described it to Luis, who, still a virgin, went wide-eyed at his friend’s machismo. When Luis started to get involved with the rebel movement, Ramon found himself drawn in.
When they formed the group, Luis was in charge. Ramon didn’t mind. He had a lot to learn, and Luis was clever. In fact, Luis reminded Ramon of Che, a doctor and an intellectual. But people change, and claiming to be in love in the middle of the revolution was unacceptable. Everyone knew women were good for three things only: cooking, sex, and babies. Everything else was witchcraft.
What had come over Luis was a sickness, a fever. He was under this woman’s spell. If the other cell members knew, they would strip him of his command. And so Ramon convinced himself he was actually doing Luis a favor. Saving him from himself. When this was over, Luis would be grateful.
He took the bus back to the safe house. He could fabricate a pretext for returning: a nonexistent conversation he wanted to share with Luis, perhaps about a potential recruit. He hummed as he got off. By the end of the afternoon, they would have ten thousand dollars, and he would be a hero. He walked the three blocks from the bus stop, taking care to make detours in case of a tail. He couldn’t afford to have Pacelli’s men or the police following him.
He climbed a fence, trotted down an alley. Satisfied no one was following him, he approached the house. The ceiba tree cast dappled shadows on the walk. Most of the other apartments had their doors open. In this heat, you needed air, even if it was hot and tropical. But the door to the safe house was closed. He knocked. There was no response. He knocked again. Nothing. He turned the knob. It twisted. He went in.
He called out. “Luis? Señorita Pacelli?”
No answer.
Maybe they had gone to eat or buy groceries. Or do laundry. Isn’t that what women did? He called out again, to be sure. When no one answered, a rush of energy came over him. He couldn’t believe his luck. He could go into the bedroom and take an article of her clothing without having to sneak it out.
As he approached the bedroom, though, Ramon hesitated. He was crossing a boundary. Luis would see it as a betrayal. But it really wasn’t. It was necessary. If he’d been in his right mind, Luis would have agreed. The revolution came first. Ramon was doing the right thing. He opened the door, anticipating what he would take. Nothing too personal. A shoe, perhaps. Or a piece of jewelry.
The room was empty. Nothing but the bed, a mattress, and a folding chair.