“Yes, ma’am. Hashtag freesoccerdad4.”
Eisenberg swore under her breath. “That’s . . . all . . . fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Congress will make its views known. We respect that. The public, too. But we are not going to allow one lost fishing boat to become a political weapon. I won’t allow this to spin out of control. It’s unfortunate. But it’s not in anyone’s interest to escalate this incident any further. Not for Cuba. Not for the United States. Not for these men and their families. The Cubans will release them once they realize they have nothing to gain. That’s it. That’s our objective.”
“Do we bring in the other bureaus on this, Madam Assistant Secretary?”
“Negative. We are going to put this fire out by suffocating it. By denying oxygen. We keep this within our team.”
“What about S/CRU?”
“Judd Ryker?”
“Yes, ma’am. Aren’t we supposed to call the Crisis Reaction Unit during a crisis?”
“Ryker, the academic?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When someone says ‘That’s academic,’ what do they mean?” Eisenberg asked.
“They mean ‘irrelevant.’”
Melanie Eisenberg raised her eyebrows. “Meeting adjourned.”
30.
MORRO CASTLE, HAVANA, CUBA
THURSDAY, 4:45 P.M.
The cell was built out of stone blocks and covered in a soft green moss. Brinkley Barrymore III ran his hand over the wall and felt the moistness on his fingertips. Through the sole window’s iron bars, Brinkley could see palm trees and the shadows of late-afternoon light. He took a deep breath. The air smelled both fresh from the sea air outside and stale from the ammonia of the urine left behind by the cell’s previous inmates.
“We’re in some sort of old castle or fort,” he said to the others. The K Street lawyer, usually most comfortable in a gray tailored suit, was wearing a dirty orange jumpsuit that hung on his body like an oversized sack. He shook his head. “This isn’t a real prison. At least not anymore.”
Alejandro Cabrera, wearing an identical jumpsuit, only tighter and even dirtier, gripped the window bars and pulled himself up to look out.
“It sure as shit smells like a real prison,” Crawford Jackson said.
“No. This is for show.” Brinkley shook his head.
“I don’t care where we are,” Crawford said. “I want to know when we’re getting the hell out.”
“I told you not to worry, Craw,” Brinkley said. “Think about it. They have no reason to hold us. The Cubans have nothing to gain by keeping us.”
“Fuck you!” Crawford barked.
“We just have to be patient. We can’t panic.”
“How the fuck did we let you get us into this?” Crawford clenched his fists.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Brinkley said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? You and Al tricked us into some bullshit fishing trip or treasure hunt or who the fuck knows what. And now we’re in a Cuban prison!”
“I’ll get us out. But there’s no point in rehashing now what went wrong,” Brinkley said. “There will be plenty of time later for an after-action. Right, Al?”
Alejandro continued to stare out the window.
“After-action?” Crawford barked. “We’re in a fuck-ing prison in Cu-ba!”
“We all have to stay calm,” Brinkley said. “That’s how we’ll get through this. That’s how we’ll get out. Al, back me up here.”
“Look at goddamn Deuce!” The two men turned to face Dennis Dobson, sitting in the corner of the cell. He had one bandaged arm in a sling, the other arm wrapped tightly around his knees. Dennis was rocking gently back and forth, his eyes glazed over. “He’s still in shock.”
“Deuce will be fine,” Brinkley said quietly. “Hey, Deuce!” he then shouted. “You’re going to be fine! Are you hearing me?”
No reply. Just more rocking.
“Hey, Deuce! We’re going to get you out of here. Do you understand?”
Still no reply.
“Why haven’t they let us call the U.S. embassy?” Crawford asked. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”
“I don’t know,” Brinkley said.
“How the hell does our government even know we’re here?”
“They know.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Our government isn’t just going to let us rot. They aren’t going to leave us in Cuba, just sitting here exposed.” Brinkley shook his head.
“Are you kidding me?” Crawford’s eyes were wide. “You think our government is going to save us? You don’t think Washington will see us as some kind of pawn? They would sell us out without blinking if they can gain an advantage! Or just leave us here! I was in the Navy, too, you know. I know how this works!”
“They won’t leave us exposed again,” Brinkley said.
“Again? What the fuck’re you talking about? Brink, we are in fuck-ing Cu-ba!”
Alejandro, who had been quiet all along, suddenly spoke up. “Craw’s right.”