The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [195]
The room was quiet. The well-dressed, silver-haired man contemplated for so long a moment that Lt. Commander Bok wrote a note to Officer Sims, who abruptly left the room. Fierson gestured for Trevor and they had a short, whispered conversation.
Finally Fierson said, “All right. Full immunity.”
Willie spluttered his indignation but Fierson paid no attention, turning instead to his assistant. “Call Justice.” He nodded at Annie, who let out her breath. “If you find your father in Havana, get him on the plane and bring him back. I hope he won’t object to a brief conversation.”
Annie asked, “Sir, how am I supposed to get to Cuba?”
Trevor, with flushed cheeks, pulled folders from his briefcase and passed them out. Annie would go directly from here to Boca Chica Key. Her father’s Cessna Amphibian would be turned over to her. She would make a sea-landing off Puerto Esperanza in Pinar del Rio, Cuba. Accompanying her would be Sgt. Daniel Hart, who not only spoke fluent Spanish but also would be in charge of the State of Florida’s prisoner, Rafael Rook. Rook was a U.S. citizen of Cuban descent who was all too familiar with illegal ways to re-enter the island. Rook would be their intermediary; he had relatives working both in harbor security and in customs in Puerto Esperanza. He had another relative at the bank branch in Havana.
Dan muttered, “True. Rook’s related to half that island and a third of Miami.”
Walking around the table, Trevor dropped thick packets in front of Dan and Annie. “Passports, etc.,” he said. Annie kept staring at him, without effect. “We’ve given you both pretty deep covers. But if they get blown—” he blushed, two red circles spreading over his face “—Annie, you’re stuck with who you are. You’re illegal, you’re Navy, but they might buy that you’re desperate, you’re searching for your dad and he’s terminally ill. Stick to that. It’s personal.”
Annie’s eyes were icy. “Well, Trevor, it has the coincidental virtue of being true.” Finally he glanced back at her but quickly looked away.
Dan was leafing through his packet; he held up a Canadian passport. “You’re kidding? I teach moral philosophy at the University of Toronto?”
Willie laughed out loud.
Fierson took a photograph of a young, muscular nondescript man from his folder. “I understand you have a very good memory, Annie.” She nodded. “Can you remember this gentleman?” She glanced at the photo, nodded. “His name is Fred Owen. When you get the bank pouch, give it to him. Only to him.” He removed another photograph from his blue folder, sliding it over to Annie. “Her name,” Fierson checked the back of the picture, “is Helen Clark.”
Annie studied the photograph of the coppery-haired woman she’d seen at Golden Days. “She may be in Havana. Do not be conned into letting her take the bank pouch from you. Your friend Detective Hart—“ he gestured uninterested at Dan, “mentioned Feliz Diaz. This woman is his mistress.” Fierson stood, smoothing his suit. “I’ll leave the arrangements to Agents Smithwall and Greenberg.”
“Grunberg,” Willie muttered.
Fierson showed his handsome watch to the thin young woman who stood waiting at the door with her clipboard. He said to Annie, “Whether you succeed or not, you are in and out of Cuba within 24 hours. You fly back here to NAS with Sergeant Hart’s prisoner Rafael Rook, who will be remanded into custody to stand trial.”
Annie stood too. “In exchange for Rafael Rook’s cooperation, shouldn’t he be extended the same deal as my father?”
Willie burst out, “Absolutely not. Don’t push.” The agent said that considering the number and severity of the charges against Rook, an eighteen month deal was a gift. “Total gift.” Besides, Rook had already accepted the deal and pled guilty.
Fierson shrugged at Annie. “But I admire your tenacity.” He shook her hand. “Lieutenant. You’ve done a service to your country. Gentlemen, thank you.” He bowed his head briefly. “I hope we’ve kept it comfortable. Best of luck.” The assistant held open the door for him.
After the State Department