Ghosts of Havana (Judd Ryker #3)

“If Cuba’s elections are indeed free and fair and the results reflect the desire of the Cuban people, our two great nations will finally be on a path to true friendship. If the rule of law is respected and the rights of private property owners are restored, then Cuba will truly be on a path to rejoining the international community.

“Upon completion of open and democratic elections, I will introduce the Zamora Amendment in the U.S. Congress. This legislation will provide for the immediate lifting of all remaining sanctions and a generous recovery program. This is a window of opportunity that Cuba and America must seize.”

Adelman-Zamora raised her fist. “Viva Cuba Libre!”





85.


SANTIAGO, CUBA

SATURDAY, 10.55 A.M.

What do you mean they aren’t coming?” Ernesto Sandoval was almost in tears, nearly crying into the phone. “I’ve been so patient. All these years waiting, waiting. Building a life, a simple life in Africa, but it was mine. And I left it all behind to come back. I gave it all up for a promise. Your promise. And now that I’m here, you’re telling me . . . no crowds?”

“Mi hermano, please. I didn’t say no crowds. Just not yet.”

“When, Ruben? How am I launching a campaign to become the next president of Cuba without the people? I don’t understand. What happened to the crowds? What happened to the money?”

“The people are in the streets now.”

“They aren’t on the streets for me. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You promised me, hermano, that you’d take care of everything.”

“I will find a way, Che. We will have a campaign. I will get the money. I will get the crowds for you. For us.”

“I don’t know, Ruben.”

“The Americans have already announced an election package. The rest I will get myself. I promise, Che. We will do it. We will fight. And we will win. Viva Cuba Libre!”





86.


FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

SATURDAY, 11.03 A.M.

Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Are you just talking to Mommy all morning? I wanna swim!”

“In a minute, Toby,” Judd said. “Give me a minute and then I’ll take you in the ocean. I promise.” Judd’s older son hung his head and walked back over to Noah, who was digging a hole in the sand.

“Maybe we should do this later?” Jessica offered. “Take your son swimming. Play in the waves. We can deal with everything later. It’s not going anywhere. I’ll finish Treasure Island. I’m almost at the end, where we learn Long John Silver is the secret ringleader.”

Judd considered his wife’s suggestion. These conversations were always better when Judd could focus, no interruptions from his kids, no being pulled away, no distractions. And he knew he was in a position of extreme weakness. How could he possibly be mad at Jessica while she was lying next to him on a towel, a halo of understated beauty in a red bikini and a Washington Nationals baseball cap?

But after so many days of scheming, of overthinking every detail, and then nothing had gone according to plan, he felt anxious.

“Let’s do it now,” he said.

Jessica set the book facedown on her lap and removed her sunglasses. “Where do you want to start, sweets?”

Judd looked up the beach. Clusters of people had claimed their little patches of sand. He noticed a density pattern among the sunbathers, weighted higher near the public entrances. There must be an implicit mathematical formula for choosing your spot on the beach, he thought. Distance from the parking lot multiplied by the weight you’re carrying divided by the average distance from other people . . .”

“Judd?”

He snapped out of it. “Yes, Jessica?”

“I said where do you want to start?”

Judd blinked and regathered his thoughts. “That . . . was a close call with Oswaldo Guerrero, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Who knew a redial button could be so dangerous?” Judd offered to cut the tension.

Jessica nodded.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “And . . . I didn’t know you were a helicopter pilot.”

“A little,” she shrugged.

“What else can you fly? An airplane? Can you . . . drive a tank?”

Jessica winced. “Is that really what you want to ask me?”

“I didn’t want to call you,” Judd said.

“I know, baby.”

“Uncertainty, backchannel, cash, candidate,” he said, counting out the four on his fingers, “that was my formula for Cuba. Landon Parker was on board. He just couldn’t say so.”

“Could be,” she nodded.

“That’s why the hostage negotiations were the spark. The cover he needed. The excuse to get me into the country, face-to-face with O.”

“I guess so,” she said.

“I nearly finished it myself.”

“I know you did, sweets. I know you did.”

“I didn’t want to call you,” Judd said. “I didn’t need your help.”

“I know,” she said. “I get it.”

“But I did,” he said. “I needed you to find millions of dollars. To come get me.”

“That’s my job. You’d do it for me.”

“I mean, I had no idea when I called you, how you’d get the money, much less how you’d deliver it all the way out there in the middle of the ocean. On a Cuban naval ship. But I called you and had faith. So I asked. And you did it.”

Todd Moss's books