“Sir, I don’t think he is up to anything other than going down there and wasting tax dollars.”

“Give it another couple of weeks to see if anything comes of this investigation. See what happens when the Russians return. We might discover that Corporal Taggart is doing something more serious than making bogus phone calls.”

“Such as?” asked Quaile.

“I don’t know, but with him, it usually makes headlines. Keep an eye on him.”

“And if two weeks pass and the investigation falls flat?” asked Quaile.

“Then he’s back in uniform.”

Quaile smiled. Now I know I did the right thing by allowing him to take a week off ...

Jack and Laura waited at the assigned gate in the San Jose Airport to board their flight to Havana. The area was packed with passengers, which Jack was glad to see. The only flight they could get was the same one the Russians were on, and it was now three hours late.

Eduardo had seen to it that the Russians would be seated at the back of the plane, where they would board first and get off last. He also gave Jack a note written in Spanish to pass on to the captain flying the plane. The note expressed the need for discretion and also the urgent need for Jack to talk to the Cuban police about the two Russian passengers who were the criminals that Jack and Laura were following.

“It will not be a problema,” Eduardo assured them. “Every plane from Cuba has its own security officers to make sure nobody, like members of the crew, escapes from Cuba. They make sure only the correct passengers get off. You will have no problems contacting the police.”

Jack began to feel uneasy. Will Laura and I ever leave Cuba after this?

“Fat Man is going to the washroom again,” whispered Laura.

Both Jack and Laura held newspapers up to their faces as Fat Man sauntered past.

“With the amount of rum he had for lunch, I doubt he can see past his feet,” Jack said.

Eventually the boarding call was made and Jack and Laura found themselves sitting in a crowded and cramped Russian-built Yak-42 that smelled of aviation fuel.

Jack waited until they were twenty minutes into the five-hour flight before he handed the note to a stewardess. She smiled sweetly and said she would give it to the captain. Moments later, Jack and Laura saw two husky-looking men dressed in suits come up to them. One bent over and whispered, “Policia? Canada?”

Jack nodded and both he and Laura showed their police identification. The one man handed both pieces of identification to his colleague.

“Passports,” the man whispered again.

Jack and Laura handed him their passports. Both men headed for the cockpit with all the documents. Neither were seen again until the plane landed in Havana.

As soon as Jack and Laura stepped from the plane, they were met by eight men, none of whom appeared to speak any English. Jack’s limited knowledge of Spanish also seemed to fall on deaf ears.

They were quickly escorted past the crowds and up to the head of one of several long lineups leading to the immigration arrival counters, where they waited momentarily as the customs officer examined the passport of a man in front of them.

Jack saw her examine the passport carefully and, after a couple of routine questions, she stamped a separate piece of paper that was placed inside the passport. This document would be removed from the passport when the person left Cuba. This was standard treatment for any tourist and was meant to protect American visitors from being identified in their own country as having broken the American law by travelling to Cuba.

Jack and Laura stepped forward. Their escorts maintained control of their documents. This time there were no questions and the customs officer quickly completed the documentation process. Jack and Laura were separated and each put into small rooms located behind the immigration counters.

Jack studied the room. Similar to our own interrogation rooms. Two chairs ... a table against a wall. The minutes ticked by ... then an hour. What the hell is happening? The Russians are probably out of here by now—or are they being detained, too?

Jack opened the door, only to be met by an armed security guard who pointed for him to stay in the room.

“El banõ,” pleaded Jack, trying to sound convincing.

“El banõ?”

“Si, por favor. Urgente!”

Moments later, four men escorted Jack toward a washroom. Three of the guards were the same as the ones earlier, but one was different. Jack could tell by the way the other men acted that he was in command.

On the way, Jack caught a quick glimpse of the Russians. They were standing together, three back in line. Once in the washroom, Jack turned to the new guard and said, “They’re about to leave.” He gestured toward the bathroom door and said, “Dos banditos! Vamos! Comprender?”

The man smiled at him and nodded and pointed to the toilet said, “Si, el banõ.”

Minutes later, Jack was walked back toward the interrogation room. He saw the Russians being waved up to the customs counter and stopped and pretended to tie his shoe so that he could observe.

In the few seconds he delayed, the Russians had their papers stamped and disappeared toward where the taxis were parked. Great. I’m held and they’re set free.

Jack was returned to the interrogation room, but a moment later, the same man he had spoken to in the washroom came in.

“My name is Donato Castillo,” he said in perfect English.

“Damn it, you do speak English!”

“I am with the Seguridad de Estado.”

“Security of the State. Great. What is ...?”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Poquito ... a little. Your English is much better.”

“Then I will tell you in English. You are in a lot of trouble, Mister Jack Taggart. So is the lady in the other room. Unfortunately for you, someone has talked. We know why you are really here. In a few minutes, you will both be transferred to jail.”

Jack remained silent and Donato looked at him with contempt before leaving. Moments later, Laura was brought into the room and they were left alone.

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting in a chair to face Jack.

“Did anyone talk to you?” asked Jack.

“Not a word. I’m worried that the Russians might be out of here by now.”

“They are. I saw them leave a few minutes ago when I went to the bathroom.”

“Then what is going on? Have you been talking with anyone?”

“A man by the name of Donato Castillo just told me that someone had talked and that they knew why we were really here. He said we would be transferred to a jail cell shortly.”

“Oh ... I see,” replied Laura. “They have had plenty of time to go through our luggage and read our files on these guys.”

“Exactly.”

“So ... what now?” asked Laura.

“I guess we could both exclaim that we don’t know what Donato is talking about when he said someone talked. We could say that it doesn’t make sense because we are being truthful.”

“Is that the way you want to play it?” asked Laura.

“Naw. I feel that would be just plain deceitful. If we’re going to work together with the Cuban police, we’re going to have to learn to respect and trust each other.”

“Was this Donato taller than the husky types who escorted us off the plane?” asked Laura. “Dark wavy hair, nice teeth?”

“That’s him. You said you didn’t talk to anyone.”

“I didn’t. He just stuck his head in the room for a moment to look at me, then left.” Laura winked at Jack and said, “He certainly is a handsome man. I bet he catches the eye of a lot of pretty ladies.”

“I’m sure. I’d have volunteered to take a polygraph, but he didn’t give me the opportunity. Still, I bet he figures out the truth really fast.”