“What?” Dennis and Crawford exchanged looks of confusion.
“Nineteen fifty-nine,” Al said. “My grandfather had a diamond-trading business in Cuba when Fulgencio Batista’s government collapsed and everyone had to flee before the commies took over Havana. My family had to leave everything behind to get to Miami. They buried the diamonds underneath the house.”
“Holy cow, Al!” Dennis said.
“That’s unbelievable!” Crawford said.
“Tell them the rest.” Brinkley poked Alejandro in the ribs.
“Mi abuelo is dead now. Mi padre, too. But the diamonds are still there. In a lockbox beneath the house.”
“How many?” Dennis asked.
“Plenty.”
“You know where it is?” Dennis was leaning all the way forward.
“Sure.”
“You have a map? You have a treasure map?” Dennis’s eyes widened.
“No,” Alejandro said, tapping his temple, “it’s all in here.”
“So, why can’t you just go get it?” Crawford asked.
“It’s now a fire station. Goddamn commie firefighters walking around every day on top of my family fortune. They have no idea.”
“Wow. A real-life treasure chest full of jewels. Just sitting there in Cuba,” Dennis said. “I’m impressed.”
“And you know where it is,” Crawford said, shaking his head.
“Yep, I know exactly where it is.”
“Let’s go get it!” Dennis said. “I’m up for a treasure hunt.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Crawford. “Let’s go.”
“We can’t get it.” Al shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe one day.”
“Tomorrow we can wave at your family jewels from a safe distance,” Brinkley offered.
“Tomorrow?” Crawford and Dennis asked in unison.
“Yeah, we’re flying down to the Florida Keys tonight after work,” Alejandro said. “Mi asere Ricky’s got The Big Pig moored at Marathon.”
“What the fuck is asere? Is he your bitch?” Crawford and Dennis clinked their beers.
“Oye!” Alejandro scowled. “Asere is Cuban for ‘amigo.’ What are you, stupid?”
“Relax, asere.”
“Fuck you. Brink and I are going marlin fishing at first light tomorrow. The Big Pig is down in the Keys. Ricky’s got it all ready for us. You two should come.”
“Tonight?” Crawford shook his head. “I’ve got work.”
“Me too,” Dennis said.
“Work?” Alejandro laughed. “Craw, whatever bullshit you are up to at Carderock can wait. Take a few days off and come down with us. It’s marlin, brother!”
“The Naval Surface Warfare Center might disagree with you, Se?or Cabrera.”
“I thought you’re retired. You’re not even real Navy anymore.” Alejandro threw a pretzel at Crawford’s head. “You’re a goddamn consultant.”
Crawford ignored the taunting.
“And I know that Deuce can come,” Alejandro said. “All you techie start-up boys love to play hooky. Sit around on beanbags and drink coffee and shit. You’re in for marlin fishing, Deuce.”
“I can’t,” Dennis said. “I’ve got a deadline.”
“You’re telling me that some app you’re writing for kids to watch porn on their iPhones can’t wait until Monday?” Al jeered.
“It’s not porn. It’s not even an app,” Dennis said. “You don’t know anything about what I do.”
“I know that tomorrow you’re fishing for marlin, Deuce.” Alejandro held out his hands as wide as he could. “They’re bigger than this! And they fight like hell!”
“It’s cybersecurity. I’ve told you, like, a hundred times,” Dennis huffed. “I design software for unbreakable scrambled communications.”
“We don’t care,” Al replied. “You’re going marlin fishing.”
Crawford and Dennis shook their heads.
“You really should come,” Brinkley said. “It’s good fun. And you should see Al’s fishing boat.”
“The Big Pig,” Crawford chuckled. “Is that you or your boat, Al?”
“I’ve got to go shower for work,” Dennis said, standing up. “Cash me out.”
“Fuck that, Deuce.” Alejandro laughed to himself. “It’s barely six o’clock. I’m buying back in and it’s your deal.” He pushed the cards toward Dennis. “You don’t need to go home. Play one more hand, then call in sick and go take a nap. You’re going marlin fishing, asere.”
4.
U.S. STATE DEPARTMENT HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C.
TUESDAY, 8:45 A.M.
Nice work, Ryker.”
Judd looked up from his desk, which was covered with a mess of intelligence reports and diplomatic cables. “Thank you.” Landon Parker was standing in his doorway. Judd pushed the papers into piles. “I wasn’t expecting you, sir.”
“Sorry to surprise you, Ryker.”
“It’s your building.”
“Yes, it is, Ryker,” Parker said with a satisfied smile. “I came to congratulate you. Good outcome on Zimbabwe. The old man is gone, and I’m hearing positive things about this new Gugu . . . something.”
“Gugu Mutonga.”
“Yes, that’s her. I don’t know how you pulled it off, but good work.”