Topaz - Leon Uris [42]
Castro made no attempt to hide prisoners. They were stuffed everywhere. Thousands and thousands and tens of thousands. The once luxury hotels were walled in by barbed wire and had decayed to lice-riddled flophouses.
In a final symbol of hate, the monument to the battleship Maine, a testimony to American help in the liberation from Spain, had been dismantled.
And all of it made the brute dictator Batista a pale, benevolent tyrant alongside the massive rape of Fidel Castro.
André Devereaux returned to his room in the Embassy to unpack. Alain Adam personally came to deliver him a message. André smiled as he read it. It was from Juanita de Córdoba and she was waiting.
18
MUÑOZ, THE PERSONAL BUTCHER of Havana and hangman of the Revolution, held court in his office in the dreaded Green House of Avenida Quinta near the sea.
Muñoz had innocent brown eyes and baby cheeks and an almost sweetness about him that belied the brutality with which he served Castro. The G-2 headquarters had been converted into a chamber of horrors reserved for the more prominent enemies of the Revolution. Here confessions were extracted in rooms that threw off a horrible stench.
Muñoz was no longer aware of the odor for the smell of death was a part of him. The personal torture of his victims had demented him beyond human feelings.
His visitor was Oleg Gorgoni, Resident of the Soviet Embassy in Havana and second ranking KGB officer in the Western Hemisphere.
“André Devereaux must be taken care of,” Gorgoni demanded. “You know his history and his sympathies. Furthermore, we suspect this woman he consorts with. This Juanita de Córdoba.”
Muñoz looked up with such menace that Gorgoni was suddenly struck wordless. “You suspect everyone. But you are not running Cuban G-2, Comrade. Unless you are ready to supply proof against Juanita, I advise you to be quiet about her.”
Muñoz had extended himself to the limit of his powers. He could bully and persecute underlings and small fish, but one did not murder a ranking French diplomat, nor did one toy with Juanita de Córdoba. Fidel would feed him to his own sharks if he made a mistake. True, the Comrade Resident had sound suspicions, but it was a decision beyond his hands.
“We are entering a critical time period,” Gorgoni persisted, “and how can we be certain that the Inter-NATO Intelligence didn’t deliberately send Devereaux to spy during the transfer of missiles? What if he discovers them before they become operational?”
Muñoz was not about to get himself caught in the middle of this business. He stared long and wistfully out of the window to the iron fence that surrounded the Green House.
He could go directly to Fidel for instructions but the matter was complicated by Rico Parra and his lust for Juanita. If I take Juanita into custody, Muñoz thought, that bastard Parra might seek vengence on me, and he is a madman.
On the other hand, Muñoz reasoned, Parra would certainly like to do in the Frenchman. Of course, Juanita did not limit her affections to Devereaux, but with him out of the way her resistance to Parra could lessen.
At any rate, Muñoz concluded, it was all Rico Parra’s business and he intended to dump the whole matter on him.
“Very well, Comrade,” Muñoz said to the Russian, “I will follow through.”
19
THE NURSE WHEELED BORIS Kuznetov into a large room which had been converted for conference purposes. She set his chair at the head of the table. The nurse spoke Russian and had been specially deputized into ININ. She placed herself nearby in the event Kuznetov needed attention.
Boris looked down the table, sizing up his adversaries. Michael Nordstrom, who he felt was considerate, was at the opposite end. Certainly Nordstrom could not be present at most of the conferences. He would be missed.
Between Nordstrom and Kuznetov were placed four men, two on either side of the table, armed with the full complement of foolscap pads, pens, ashtrays, drinking