Ghosts of Havana (Judd Ryker #3)(61)

“Why are we stopping?”

The driver silently opened his door and stepped out of the still-running car. He slowly turned and opened the back door. Judd saw a pistol in the driver’s hand. No witnesses.

Judd showed his palms. “Easy.”

“Out!” the driver demanded.

Judd exited the car, his hands above his head. Am I being robbed? “I have no money,” Judd said, trying to remain calm. The driver shoved the barrel of the gun against Judd’s cheek.

“Turn!”

Or kidnapped? Judd spun around. “I’m American,” he said.

The man pushed the gun into Judd’s kidneys. He slapped handcuffs on one wrist and pulled down one arm, then the other.

“I’m here to see Oswaldo Guerrero,” Judd insisted, his hands now bound together. He twisted his neck to try to see the man’s face and that’s when, for the second time that day, a dark hood was slipped over Judd’s head.





58.


FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

FRIDAY, 10:33 A.M.

Coney Island Pizza? I have a special order for urgent delivery . . . Yes, extra-spicy . . . What the f*ck have you gotten Judd into?” Jessica spat into the phone. “Tell me right now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Deputy Director said so calmly that it only enraged Jessica further.

“With respect, sir, I don’t give two f*cks about your compartmentalization. Tell me what you’re doing that’s put Judd in danger!”

“Remember who you’re talking to, little lady,” he shot back.

“Sir.” Jessica took a deep breath. “I told you I wouldn’t run an operation on my own husband. I told you when we eventually reactivated Purple Cell that I wouldn’t do it. These were our new ground rules and you’re breaking them already.”

“I didn’t break any rules. Purple Cell isn’t reactivated.”

“You’re forcing me to lie to Judd again.”

“I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“I already told you I’m out. And now you’re dragging me back in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. My whole family is now in the middle of your operation.”

“What kind of business do you think we’re in, Jessica?”

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to him anymore. I wouldn’t do it. We agreed that I’m out.”

“That’s right.”

“Now Judd’s life is in danger. He’s been sent into the clutches of . . . the Devil.”

“What do you mean ‘the Devil’?” he snapped.

“O. Oswaldo f*cking Guerrero. El Diablo! You’ve sent Judd right into the hands of the Devil of Santiago!”

“Shit!” he hissed. “Are you saying Judd’s gone into Cuba?”

“I don’t know yet. I think so. He’s cooking up some convoluted backchannel. This is all your fault.”

“I didn’t send him to Cuba. You should be chewing out Landon Parker, not me.”

“Landon Parker didn’t pull me into this, you did,” she shot back.

“What’s Parker up to?”

“I have no idea,” she said.

“He’s going to f*ck everything up,” he said.

“Fuck what up?”

“Jessica,” he calmed himself again. “Why is the goddamn State Department running operations in Cuba? What’s Parker’s game?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“I need you to find out.”

“No, sir, I’m out. I want nothing to do with this.”





59.


EASTERN CUBA


FRIDAY, 10:49 A.M.

Bound and hooded in the trunk of the antique Chevy, Judd tried to calm his breathing for the second time that day. His stomach rumbled. His neck throbbed. He pushed away the fake beard with his tongue and tried to moisten his lips. If the driver was going to kill me, I’d be dead already.

The engine of the old car whined as it climbed a hill. Judd used his feet to brace himself as he rolled toward the back of the trunk with a painful thud.

If he’s not going to kill me, then what? Ransom? Does the driver even know who I am? Did I get in the wrong taxi? Who is the driver? These questions raced through Judd’s mind in the darkness and stale air of the trunk.

The car drove for another fifteen minutes, methodically twisting and turning along a road that had become increasingly bumpy. I’m not heading into a city. He’s taking me farther into the wilderness.

Just as Judd decided his only course of action, the car rolled to a halt. Silence. The driver was in no rush. Then Judd heard the door open and slam shut. The man’s steady deliberate footsteps came closer. The trunk popped open.

“Take me to Oswaldo Guerrero!” Judd demanded through his hood.

The driver didn’t hesitate. He yanked Judd out of the trunk by his arms and dragged him away.

“You don’t know who you are dealing with!” Judd shouted. “I’m here to see Oswaldo Guerrero!”

The man pushed Judd forward. He could feel gravel under his feet give way to soft sand. As they walked farther, Judd could hear the gentle splashing of waves, could smell the sea air. Where am I being taken?