Ghosts of Havana (Judd Ryker #3)(82)

“Maybe we should do this later?” Jessica offered. “Take your son swimming. Play in the waves. We can deal with everything later. It’s not going anywhere. I’ll finish Treasure Island. I’m almost at the end, where we learn Long John Silver is the secret ringleader.”

Judd considered his wife’s suggestion. These conversations were always better when Judd could focus, no interruptions from his kids, no being pulled away, no distractions. And he knew he was in a position of extreme weakness. How could he possibly be mad at Jessica while she was lying next to him on a towel, a halo of understated beauty in a red bikini and a Washington Nationals baseball cap?

But after so many days of scheming, of overthinking every detail, and then nothing had gone according to plan, he felt anxious.

“Let’s do it now,” he said.

Jessica set the book facedown on her lap and removed her sunglasses. “Where do you want to start, sweets?”

Judd looked up the beach. Clusters of people had claimed their little patches of sand. He noticed a density pattern among the sunbathers, weighted higher near the public entrances. There must be an implicit mathematical formula for choosing your spot on the beach, he thought. Distance from the parking lot multiplied by the weight you’re carrying divided by the average distance from other people . . .”

“Judd?”

He snapped out of it. “Yes, Jessica?”

“I said where do you want to start?”

Judd blinked and regathered his thoughts. “That . . . was a close call with Oswaldo Guerrero, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Who knew a redial button could be so dangerous?” Judd offered to cut the tension.

Jessica nodded.

“I didn’t know,” he said. “And . . . I didn’t know you were a helicopter pilot.”

“A little,” she shrugged.

“What else can you fly? An airplane? Can you . . . drive a tank?”

Jessica winced. “Is that really what you want to ask me?”

“I didn’t want to call you,” Judd said.

“I know, baby.”

“Uncertainty, backchannel, cash, candidate,” he said, counting out the four on his fingers, “that was my formula for Cuba. Landon Parker was on board. He just couldn’t say so.”

“Could be,” she nodded.

“That’s why the hostage negotiations were the spark. The cover he needed. The excuse to get me into the country, face-to-face with O.”

“I guess so,” she said.

“I nearly finished it myself.”

“I know you did, sweets. I know you did.”

“I didn’t want to call you,” Judd said. “I didn’t need your help.”

“I know,” she said. “I get it.”

“But I did,” he said. “I needed you to find millions of dollars. To come get me.”

“That’s my job. You’d do it for me.”

“I mean, I had no idea when I called you, how you’d get the money, much less how you’d deliver it all the way out there in the middle of the ocean. On a Cuban naval ship. But I called you and had faith. So I asked. And you did it.”

Jessica blinked and wet her lips with her tongue.

“But I should have done it on my own. For Landon Parker. For S/CRU. For me. For us.”

“I understand, Judd.”

“Assist, avoid, admit,” Judd said, “the Ryker rules of engagement. I know we agreed that we could assist each other, but—”

“Aunt Lulu isn’t my aunt!” Jessica blurted out.

“What?”

“She’s not my aunt.”

“I figured,” he said.

“And the man who burst into the house this morning and woke us up—”

“He’s got nothing to do with your college friend, does he?”

“No. Sharon was a lie, too. That was my boss this morning. We’re staying in his place,” she said.

“Okay . . .”

“I didn’t want to lie to you, Judd, but I couldn’t help it. That’s why I’m telling you now. Neither of us are perfect.”

Judd shook his head in agreement. “What else? Any more lies you need to get off your chest?”

“Eight.”

“Eight lies? You counted them?”

“Since Tuesday. Eight. How about you?”

Judd started to run through everything that had happened over the past four days and all the people in the web—the Soccer Dad Four, Landon Parker, Melanie Eisenberg, Brenda Adelman-Zamora, Oswaldo Guerrero, Jessica Ryker—his head hurt. “None.”

“So you win.”

“That’s not the point, Jess. We aren’t in a competition. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“We are a team, Judd. We just got those four Americans free. We just helped give Cuba a chance at a better future. We succeeded, Judd. Again. And we did it together.”

“We did.” He nodded. “But what about . . . us? What about our rules to keep it all together? To keep our family together?”

“We have to keep trying. I’ll keep trying. You too.”

“So . . . who were those guys on The Big Pig? What were they doing?”