House of Ghosts (19 page)

Under other circumstances, it would have been a beautiful day for sightseeing. Jake tried to relax. “Isn’t it customary for a plane to have ID numbers, like plates on a car?”

Vinnie laughed. “The Cubans don’t give two shits about who or what flies onto the island. The good old Yankee dollar is all the ID you need. I fly down almost twice a week. A little business, a little pleasure. We’re going to land at the main airport where my man Cesar will be waiting. He’ll take us to President Laredo Bru. I assume General Flogenico Batista will also be present. If I had to pick the guy to take out Bru, Batista would be the one. He’ll be the power broker some day.”

Jake, surprised by the turbulence on a clear day, became sick to his stomach. “How much longer? I’ve been flying too many hours, it’s starting to get to me.”

“If you have to puke, get it into the bag,” Vinnie said, handing Jake an air-sickness bag. “To answer your question, we’ll be on the ground in about five minutes. Look to your right, that’s Cuba.”

Vinnie was on the radio communicating with the control tower. Jake didn’t understand a word of Spanish. Vinnie cut back the throttle, proceeded to make a slow bank to the left, and then squared to the runway. He cut the throttle completely, gliding the Cessna onto the runway with a gentle thud. Vinnie taxied to an area of the field separated from the main terminal by a row of ramshackle huts.

Two men were waiting on the tarmac, one in a tan suit, the other wearing grease-stained overalls. Jake assumed the suit was Cesar. As soon as Vinnie killed the engine, the wheels were choked, and the overalls walked quickly away.

The tan suit advanced toward the Cessna. Vinnie didn’t introduce Jake. “You got everything set like we discussed this morning?”

“Señor Vinnie, please be assured we are expected at Batista’s office by 4:00,” Cesar responded in a subservient manner.

A Chevrolet sedan waited behind the building. The salty sea air wasn’t kind to metal; the car had more rust on it than a fourteen day old Brillo pad. Vinnie scowled, “What do you mean we’re going to Batista? You told me that we were set for Bru. What’s going on?”

Cesar knew he was treading on very thin tropical ice. “Batista is the guy running the show with this ship. Bru, I don’t know what he’s up to. You can be sure they will share any money extorted from your associate. There was nothing I could do.”

Vinnie put his arm on Cesar’s shoulder and gave him a pat. “Take it easy. I know how these bastards work.”

Cesar took the wheel advising his boss to use the right rear door, as the passenger door up front and the rear left couldn’t be opened. Jake hadn’t uttered a
word since landing. He was out of his element and knew it. Vinnie was running the show. “You couldn’t find a bigger piece of shit on the island if you tried,” Vinnie fumed. “I’m embarrassed to be seen in this, no less go to the presidential building.”

Cesar maneuvered out of the airport. The road to Havana was lined with thick tropical vegetation. Palm trees gently swayed in the sea breeze. Jake thought he would pass out from the heat. Cesar opened a cooler filled with ice and bottles of Coca-Cola. He handed two bottles to his passengers. “Thanks for saving my life,” Jake said.

”Why are you thanking him? I pay him to take care of the details,” Vinnie pointed out. “Down here, a cold drink is one of the details. You’re my man, ain’t that right Cesar?” Cesar nodded his head in agreement.

Havana was a prime tourist attraction with beautiful beaches and bountiful nightlife. Cesar had the map of the city in his head, changing directions constantly to avoid traffic jams that seemingly were on every street. He pulled up in front of the central government building. The structure was a mini replica of the Capitol in Washington, D.C.

“Wait for us to come out. If we can make a deal, we’ll be going to the ship in Batista’s car. Follow us. We’ll need to get away from the ship as fast as we can,” Vinnie said.

Vinnie spoke Spanish to a sentry who checked a clipboard. “This shithead is going to make us wait. He wants us to get good and hot, then put the muscle to us. He speaks English very well, but may use Spanish to intimidate you. He gets a kick out of busting balls, let me deal with him. They never get it through their ears that haggling is a New York tradition and that we never lose.”

Vinnie took out a pack of Pall Malls offering one to Jake. “You act like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. If this piece of shit senses you’re in a desperate way, he’s going to squeeze you dry.” Vinnie struck a match. “We’ll use your moniker Ted Steele, sounds better than Jacob Rothstein. Here comes the messenger boy.”

This time the guard spoke English telling them to follow him to the general’s office. The building was deceiving; one expected an immense structure from its outside appearance. However, the inside was a maze of narrow corridors. For the seat of power, it was deathly quiet. Their footsteps echoed off the tiled floor. A sergeant stood guard at Batista’s office. Seated behind an immense hand carved mahogany desk sat the general, resplendent in a white uniform with gold brocade and a wall of medals adorning his chest. Batista stood, motioning them to two chairs in front of the desk.

“General, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again. On behalf of my uncle, I want to thank you for giving us your valuable time. I know that my associate Mr. Steele shares my sentiments,” Vinnie said.

“I’m fully aware of the purpose of your visit,” Batista said in impeccable English. “Time is of the essence since the
St. Louis
has been ordered out of port by five o’clock. It is now nearly four, so let’s get down to business.”

Vinnie started to speak, but was waved off by Batista. “The girl on the ship is a concern of Mr. Steele am I not right? How much are you prepared to donate to the Cuban treasury?”

Jake looked over to Vinnie, who turned to the window. “
The New York Times
said your government was demanding five hundred per head. As a show of appreciation, I am prepared to donate one thousand.”

Batista laughed as he swiveled in his high-backed chair. “I think four thousand would be greatly appreciated for this delicate situation.”

“General, the best that I can do is three thousand.” Jake paused. “My people in New York would also appreciate your help.”

Batista’s mulled over the offer. It was six times what a Jew was worth. Besides, he really couldn’t afford to get the North Americans angry. “My government will graciously accept your donation.” He put on his army dress hat. “We go over to the harbor.”

Jake and Vinnie followed a few feet behind. They exited the building through a side door where a new Cadillac was waiting. The driver stood at attention and opened the opened right rear door for Batista.

The Cadillac moved away from the presidential building and proceeded to pick up speed. Vinnie turned around to look out the rear window to see if Cesar was in step. Batista laughed at the sight of the pile of rust on wheels. “Do you fellows plan to spend any time with us after we pick up our guest at the ship? It would be a pity if you didn’t take in the wonderful evening delights.”

“We would like it very much, but I have pressing business back in Miami. You understand how difficult it is to leave things to underlings,” Vinnie said.

Batista grunted in agreement. The Cadillac approached the waterfront where troops out numbered the passengers on the ship. The scene was surreal. Jake tried to imagine what it was like at night with searchlights bathing the water, daring the desperate to swim to freedom. Added to the mix were relatives of the passengers and representatives from various Jewish agencies who had traveled from the United States to escort the immigrants to freedom. The discourse between those on the ship and the pier produced a buzz from a giant beehive.

The attention of the crowd was drawn toward the approaching Cadillac, causing
the troops to spring into action. The Cuban militia not needing an excuse to pummel anyone near the ship quickly cleared a path.

A lieutenant snapped to attention as the car came to a stop. He opened the rear door allowing Batista to make a grand entrance onto the dock. Jake and Vinnie watched the general address his troops. “This is some kind of zoo our friend has made out of this. He craves the attention. Nobody ever heard of him outside the island. His appearance makes a lot of people shit their pants on board this ship, keeping them dancing like a puppeteer. Says one minute he is going to kick them out of the country, then lets them stay,” Vinnie said.

“They call it psychological warfare,” Jake replied. “Take a look at the faces along the rails. They’re at their wits end. Here he comes.”

Batista sauntered back toward the Cadillac. “Mr. Steele, let’s go onto the ship and see Captain Schroeder. Vincent, you are welcome to accompany us if you wish. I forget what this girl’s name is.”

“Minnah Goldstein, General,” Jake said.

Vinnie didn’t move. Jake followed Batista up the gangway to the main deck, as a squad of troops kept the passengers at bay. Captain Joachim Schroeder, seeing the Cadillac on the pier, had made his way to the deck. Schroeder, wearing his expertly tailored and pressed white dress uniform, cast an image of professionalism. “To what do I owe this visit, General? I expected to see you, but not this
soon
.”

“My dear Captain, let me introduce you to Señor Steele of New York,” Batista said in an uncommonly relaxed way. “He’s here to retrieve a girl named Minnah Goldstein. Would you be so kind to locate her?”

Schroeder looked at Jake for a moment then excused himself. Returning to the bridge, he could be seen talking to a sailor. Jake became uncomfortable as passengers pointed in his direction.

Schroeder returned. “I have sent for the girl. Please be patient, this is a large vessel. My passengers have been cooped up on board for almost two weeks. It’s inhuman to continue keeping them prisoner. I implore you to let them off the ship for even a short walk.”

Batista lost his charm. “It is beyond my control to allow your passengers off the ship. The time is rapidly approaching where a decision is going to be made by the government of Cuba if you will be allowed to continue mooring in our waters.”

Jake was glad he wasn’t in Schroeder’s shoes when it became clear to the inmates that the ship was going back out to sea. Two sailors led a girl carrying a suitcase to the main deck. Jake reached into his pocket and produced the photo given him by the Greenbaums. She definitely was the girl in the picture.

Minnah needed to be supported. Without explanation, she had been told to gather her belongings and follow. She found herself barely able to stand before Schroeder and the Cuban who she recognized as the man who held the fate of the passengers in his hands.

Schroeder placed his hands on Minnah’s shoulders and explained to her in German that she was about to be set free. Why he didn’t know, but the man with Batista was from New York, and she was to go with Herr Steele. Schroeder kissed her on the cheek and turned her over to Jake. “Mr. Steele, I present to you Miss Goldstein. She’s a fine young woman, please take care of her. General, I suppose we have concluded our business. I’ll await your further instructions.” He saluted and turned away.

Jake picked up Minnah’s suitcase, placed a hand under her elbow, and helped her down the gangway. The crowd on the pier surged forward, demanding an explanation for Minnah’s removal from the ship. A series of machine gun bursts over their heads stopped a riot in the making. Batista wasn’t smiling as he climbed into the front seat allowing his visitors to take the large rear seat. Salutes were given, which Batista didn’t bother to return. Minnah, still shaking, began sobbing as the car drove away.

Cesar was waiting at the end of the dock. Batista instructed his driver to pull over. “Gentlemen, your limousine awaits. We have completed our business, and I must say, in a most efficient manner. In the future, I hope we may do further transactions. Give my regards to your associates in the States.”

The threesome got out of the car and walked toward Cesar’s rusting heap. Batista sat in his car shaking his head. He couldn’t understand what the fuss was over a ship of Jews. He should’ve sold the lot, ignoring the outside pressure being placed on his government from both the United States and Germany.

Vinnie took his place up front. “Get us to the airport as fast as this rolling shitpile can go. I don’t like the look on Batista’s face.”

Minnah, oblivious to what was happening, looked out the window. Jake laughed to himself about Sarah saying the girl had studied English. She didn’t understand a word.

As they approached the airport, Minnah tried to ask if they were going on a plane. When words failed Jake, gestures took their place. He formed a plane with his hand, causing her eyes to widen. He couldn’t tell if she was excited or scared stiff.

Cesar followed his boss’ orders with reckless abandon, turning into a narrow driveway behind the huts on two wheels. Jake braced Minnah for a crash that would end with the jalopy on its side. With metal crunching in his brakes, Cesar ended the joyride forty feet from the Cessna.

Vinnie had his door open before the Chevy came to a stop. He wasn’t joking when he said he wanted off the island as soon as possible. “Torres!” he shouted for the mechanic who wasn’t in his shed. “Where in the hell is that son of a bitch. I told him to be waiting for us, not to move from here. These greaseballs are all alike, lazy and irresponsible. If I get my hands on him… Cesar, unchock the wheels while I get the plane ready. Jake, get the girl inside and buckled up.”

Jake put his shoulder against the car door to get it opened. As he reached for the suitcase, Minnah jerked it away. “It’s going to be okay, we have to go,” Jake said, trying to coax from the car.

“
Nein!
” she shouted back.

Vinnie finished his pre-flight procedures. He opened the window in the cockpit and screamed across the tarmac over the noise of the engine, “Get her out of the car now! Cesar, give him a hand. Pull her out by the hair if you have to.”

Cesar ran over. Jake didn’t want to forcibly remove the girl who had been manhandled since leaving Germany. “Minnah, let’s go!” She sunk further into the seat. Jake grabbed her by the arms, dragging her kicking and screaming from the Chevy. Minnah found herself hoisted over Jake’s shoulder.