Topaz - Leon Uris [45]
But he did love her and he knew it then. And he had to remain quiet about it. He had no rights nor could he make any demands.
And in all eyes he simply remained a charming French diplomat who breezed in and out of her life ... among others.
After André had made his inspection trip of Havana and conferred with Alain Adam and the French staff, he knew there was going to be trouble for him this time.
The pressure of keeping the missiles a secret would dictate that the Cubans maintain a tight watch on him. If they got on to his game, they might try to do away with him. At the moment he left the Embassy to go to Juanita, his fears were for her. But, like his undeclared love, their danger was never talked about. She knew the risks from the beginning and they would not be discussed, ever.
And what about Rico Parra’s unhealthy desire for her? It too could explode at any time.
As he drove into the hills west of the city he was consumed with a terrible sensation that his affair with Juanita de Córdoba was coming to an end just as their war together on Castro was also coming to an end.
She was there at the door when he arrived at the villa. The thrill was more intense than it had ever been. They embraced and swayed in the tightness of the way they held each other and they searched with their fingers ... hers nervously clawing at his back and his fingers running through her black hair and over her cheek, and their lips sought each other out a hundred times. And at last the fervor mellowed to contented sighs and they were satisfied that it was all real that they were together again.
Juanita slipped him a note before he could talk. It read that he should be extremely careful as she suspected the house was being watched and maybe tapped. He slipped the paper into his pocket, placed his arm about her waist and they walked lazily to the veranda and spoke of small things. Their fires had to be held in check for later.
In the evening they dined, as usual, in full view of everyone.
The only decent restaurant in a city once filled with fine dining places was La Torre, atop an apartment house. The Cuban government finally established it after numerous complaints by the diplomatic corps about the poor facilities.
With a majority of the diplomats visiting La Torre frequently, the room was profusely wired. This stratagem of Muñoz and the G-2 was crude indeed but André enjoyed using the opportunity to plant false information. Much of what he said was not bought by the Cubans and Russians but it could cause confusion.
Over their dinner, the small talk continued. Juanita spoke of the letters she had received from her sons in Switzerland. Their schooling was going very well and they looked forward to the ski season and her coming visit. Could André possibly be in Europe when she was there?
He no longer promised his time for he had had to break that promise too often.
They gossiped about the comings and goings of Washington and New York and the superficial social nonsense of Havana.
A stinging whistle brought all activity in the restaurant to a halt!
There at the entrance stood Rico Parra flanked by a half dozen Castroites of lesser rank.
Making certain his appearance did not go unnoticed he yelled at a harassed maitre d’, who nervously led the party toward their table. They made through the room with the fumes from their cigars fouling the air.
Parra stopped abruptly!
André came to his feet and extended his hand. It was not accepted. Parra glared from Juanita to the Frenchman. His clenched teeth caused a bulge of muscles about his jaw. A snarl changed to a strange giggle.
“I want to see you ... now,” Rico growled to Juanita.
André stepped slowly around the table so that he stood between Rico and the woman. “Not tonight, Señor Parra,” he said quite softly.
The Cuban bullied with his eyes. Andr