Ghosts of Havana (Judd Ryker #3)(63)

“Dr. Ryker, you are on the Granma Nueva. Welcome.”

“What’s this?”

“Granma Nueva is a special ship of the Cuban navy. My ship.”

“I don’t understand,” Judd said. “I thought—”

“Are you hungry, Dr. Ryker?” he said, pointing to a plate of rice and black beans on the table, neatly set with polished cutlery. “I have cold beer, too. I understand that you like beer, Dr. Ryker.”

“How would you—” Judd stopped himself. He rubbed his wrists. “Yes, I’ll have a beer. If you’ll have one with me.”

“Of course, Dr. Ryker!” the man replied with a forced smile, revealing a shiny gold front tooth. “We are going to have many drinks together today.”

“You know who I am,” Judd said. “So, who are you?”

The man returned Judd’s glare, but his silence was answer enough.

“Oh . . .” Judd whispered to himself.

The man blinked.

“You’re Oswaldo Guerrero,” Judd said aloud.

“Your Caribbean Special Projects Unit calls me El Diablo de Santiago,” he said. “I hate that name.”

“The Caribbean Special what?” Judd was confused.

“It wasn’t my fault, Dr. Ryker. What happened in Santiago was your mistake. The CIA’s mistake. Not mine.”

Judd shook his head. “I’m not CIA. I don’t know anything about—”

“Never mind, Dr. Ryker. You are my guest. You are welcome.”

“You can call me Judd. You know why I’ve come to Cuba. I’m here on behalf of the Secretary of State—the United States government—to negotiate the release of our citizens. I’ve been authorized—”

“No, Dr. Ryker,” Oswaldo shook his head.

“What do you mean no?” Judd cocked his head to one side. “I’m not leaving without the Americans. That’s why I came here. That’s why I agreed to meet with you.”

“Those four fools I’m holding in Morro Castle? The spies we caught throwing guns into my sea?” He waved his hand as if swatting a fly. “You can have them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You aren’t here for those fools, Dr. Ryker.”

“I’m not?”

“You’re here for something much more important.”

Judd tried to hide his surprise. “And what is that?”

“Are these men relevant? No. Is hostage negotiation your expertise, Dr. Ryker? I don’t think so.”

“How do you know me?”

“Why would Parker have sent you all the way here?”

“Landon Parker?” Judd’s poker face broke. “How do you know Mr. Parker?”

“Come, have a beer, Dr. Ryker,” Oswaldo said, popping the caps off two bottles of Bucanero Fuerte and handing one to Judd. Judd examined the label: a smirking unshaven pirate in a bright red shirt and hat.

“Salud!” Oswaldo said, holding up his bottle.

“Salud!” Judd said before knocking back a swig.

“My country may be small and poor,” Oswaldo began, “but mi Cubita bella hasn’t survived for this long without understanding you yanquis. You may be big and rich, but you don’t understand Cuba. You never have.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“After so many battles. So many failures—the Bay of Pigs, the blockade, the strangling of our people, your pathetic attempts to create a revolt, to bribe our patriots—you thought you could incite the masses in Havana, in Matanzas, in Santa Clara. They all failed, no?”

“And Santiago?”

Oswaldo lowered his eyes and shook his head. “You didn’t come all this way to talk about history.”

“Why did I come, then?”

“It’s time for a better way,” he said, sitting up straight in his chair. “That’s why Parker has sent you here. That’s why Parker sent you . . . to me.”

“How do you know the Secretary’s chief of staff?”

“That’s not the question you want to ask me,” Oswaldo said as he took a long swig and then slammed down his empty bottle. “You want to ask me about the future of my country.”

“Are you saying that the Cuban government . . . is ready to change?”

Oswaldo opened two more bottles of Bucanero Fuerte. “The Cuban people are ready for something new. I am ready for something new.”

“Democracy?” Judd ventured.

Oswaldo snorted and handed Judd a beer.

“A new leader of Cuba? Is that what you’re proposing?”

“I’m not proposing anything. We are just two new friends talking, no?”

Judd took another drink. “You? Are you next in line after ECP?”

Oswaldo looked puzzled.

“ECP,” Judd said. “That’s government-speak for your president. So are you next after El Comrade Presidente?”

“No, no, no!” Oswaldo laughed. “I am a man of the shadows. I am like you.”

“If not you, then who?”

“Answering that question can get a man killed.”

“Killed?”

“Asking that question can get you killed, too,” he said, his smile suddenly disappearing.