The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [197]
Raffy’s “no” was so vehement that his black ponytail bounced on his neck. “I was never in that water plane but the one time with Jack and that’s the time when we landed in a very stormy sea and we almost crashed to death and my relatives were not waiting in their little boat but the Cuban police were waiting in a big boat and they caught us! That’s when we went to jail together, your papa and me. The mice and rats are not so cheerful the way they are always singing and dancing in Walt Disney, let me tell you. So no, gracias, I am not flying with you to Cuba.”
Annie assured him they weren’t going to have bad weather and they weren’t going to jail; they would just fly in, fly out. Didn’t he want to go home, see his mother?
“‘I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none.’ I don’t have the nerve for little planes, especially not on ocean waves. And Cuba? My memories are not so good. As my grandpapa Simon told my abuela, ‘A broch tzu Columbus!’”
Dan asked, “Is that Yiddish for fuck Christopher Columbus?”
“Pretty much,” admitted the small musician. He motioned Annie away from Dan, whispering, “Your papa is alive.”
“I know he is. So does the FBI.”
“Feliz Diaz is paying him a million dollars in cash for La Reina. In cash! A million dollars! Your papa is going to get that money to you. Don’t trust the government. Trust your family.”
Annie pulled back, ironic. “Ah, my family? When did you last see my ‘papa’?” She wasn’t sure whether they could be overheard, even whispering, so she hesitated to tell Rook any specifics about how she’d spotted her father last night at the hotel in Key West. “They don’t seem to have caught him.”
“Ah.” Rafael held the forefingers of both hands to his soft lips, blew away all questions. “Shhh. Flights of angels.”
“Flights of angels to where exactly? Has he left the country?”
The slender man lifted his shoulders rhythmically, so that the alligators danced on his yellow shirt. “I know nothing. I am only Rosencrantz and I forget the other one.”
“Raffy, isn’t a friend like family? Wouldn’t you rather help out Jack, your best friend, than sit here alone in this cell?”
He glanced sadly around the small bare barred room. They looked at each other.
Dan said, “Do it, Rook. Annie’s fought for you. You should have heard her in there fighting for you. Come on. Help her.”
The Cuban sighed at the ceiling. “Ahhh, Annie…‘my love’s more richer than my tongue.’…” He sighed at the floor. “I’ll do it.”
Dan gave him both thumbs up.
Annie told the MP that they were ready to go. The young man helped Raffy to his manacled feet.
“I don’t want to do this,” Raffy whispered to Annie. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want to go back to jail in Cuba. Not without Jack.”
She kissed him. “You won’t,” she promised. “I’m going to get you through this. And you’re going to see your mother. She doesn’t want to see a Thorn of the Holy Crown in a silver box. She wants to see you.”
His ponytail flicked from side to side. “That’s what you think.”
Annie stepped back so the MP could walk him out of the room. “Everything’s going to be okay. Do you believe me?”
His eyes sweetened. “I do believe you.” He leaned around her to Dan. “You, you son-of-a-bitch Miami police, I don’t believe. But her I do.”
Dan slapped the Cuban’s thin back, assuring him he’d be home with Chamayra and they’d be hanging out the Love sign in no time.
“No time would be better than eighteen months,” sighed the Cuban as he shuffled down the long, overlit corridor.
***
Just as McAllister Fierson had pledged, the government made the arrangements. If there was one skill the government had, Dan noted, it was VIP arrangements: