Stalked: The Boy Who Said No (40 page)

Frank recognized them as two men who had come to Sebastian’s aid. The younger one had a strange look on his face. No one said a word.

To Frank’s surprise Damian stepped forward, enabling him to view the full length of his body. This was highly dangerous and unusual behavior. His manner was military, resolute. But something else was going on with him, something Frank couldn’t fathom. Frank watched in amazement as the man waded into the creek. Frank had no idea what he was doing. He focused his mind.

You are not going to die. You are not going to die. You are not going to die. Not here. Not now. You have too much to live for. You have Darlene. You have Chris. Steady, steady, steady.

Rattled, José stood on the sidelines, shotgun aimed at Damian’s body. His mission was to shoot Damian, not Frank. He watched Damian’s strange behavior, confused, fascinated. José inched toward Damian and hollered, impatience shredding his voice. “Why the hell are you waiting, damn it?”

Damian kept his eyes on Frank. The two men sized each other up. Without breaking his gaze, Damian screamed to José, “Put your goddamn gun down, and shut the hell up.” His tone of voice demanded compliance.

José hesitated, befuddled. He inched forward, taking small sidesteps, his weapon aimed at Damian’s chest, his eyes darting back and forth between him and Frank.

“
Now
!” commanded Damian.

Swearing, José dropped his gun. An airplane flew overhead, leaving a white contrail against a blue vault of sky. Damian waited
a moment. Then he stood tall, dragged his feet through the water and squared his toes. Frank was astonished to see Damian take the military position. Water gurgled as it tripped over rocks.

Damian nodded to Frank before raising his hand in a crisp salute. He held Frank’s gaze, looking at him with an intensity Frank had never seen. Damian’s eyes telegraphed conflicting emotions.

Frank drew his body to full length and saluted Damian back. The two men stared at each other, taking stock, paying each other respect. A moment elapsed that seemed like an eternity. Frank was not about to wait for Damian to kill him.

Frank raised his bow. His finger and thumb joined to pull back the string. A muscle pulled at his jaw.

Frank and Damian looked at each other straight in the eye. To Frank’s surprise, he heard Damian say one word: sorry.

Then Damian slid his hand to the holstered pistol at his thigh, swiftly withdrew it, and aimed it straight at Frank’s chest.

Once before, Frank had faced the barrel of a gun. On the run in Cuba, Pino had cornered him and had ordered members of the Special Forces to shoot him.

Lieutenant Brown, the officer in charge of Frank’s unit, countermanded Pino’s order while Frank made a beeline for cover. Pino took several shots at Frank, but missed. Now, Frank faced a similar situation. He was standing face-to-face with someone as skilled at guerrilla warfare as he.

The idea of an afterlife flashed through Frank’s mind.
Will I soon join Magda in heaven? Will I see my father, my grandfather? Will they be waiting for me, as the Church would have me believe? Or is this all there is to life? You do your best. You love. You live. You die.

Darlene’s face danced before his eyes. Frank pictured her long eyelashes, her mischievous smile. She was a girl in every sense of the word, intelligent and high-spirited. She wore frilly clothes and played with dolls. Frank wanted to watch her grow into a beautiful woman like her mother. He knew she would. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being orphaned.

He wondered whether he’d live to marry Chris. She was a remarkable woman and had made such a difference in his life. When Frank was with her, he felt alive again. She and Darlene gave him a reason to hope, a reason to live. He had to live. He had to.

He refocused on Damian. He identified with the man standing before him. He was young and determined. But also misguided. Somewhere along the line, someone had sold him a bill of goods. And Frank had his suspicions as to who could have done it.

Damian hesitated a second too long. A shot rang out. Frank looked up, startled. Damian dropped his pistol and brought his hands to his chest. Blood soaked his clothes. Frank heard Damian’s screams through a fog of fear. Covering his head with his hands, Frank fell to the ground as another shot sliced the air. Boom! Then another.

Gunfire echoed and skipped through the hills. The trees trembled. The sound was so near and so loud Frank thought he’d been shot. But he felt no pain. Panicked and confused, he scrambled about, patting his body parts, searching for wounds.

A second bullet pierced Damian’s chest. He sank to his knees, writhing in agony. He screamed his pain into the sky. Blood spewed forth like gushing oil. Another shot rang out, and Damian fell on his back. Within a few seconds his body went limp.

Damian floated in the stream, face up, his shirt blooming crimson, his eyes staring blankly at the steel-blue sky. The creek reddened with blood. The smell of death fouled the air. Crimson water traversed the rocks.

Frank looked at the young man, aghast.
Such a waste! And for what?

Frank drew his fist to his mouth. His face felt hot. He was afraid he would vomit.

Three more shots rang out. Frank heard a moan. Then silence. He glanced toward the woods. José fell to the ground with a bullet in his head. Blood streamed down his face. Frank looked at the two dead men in horror.

A rustling of leaves and the crackle of twigs caught Frank’s attention. Someone was closing in on him. Fear grabbed him like a gorilla.

He whispered a silent prayer, rose on his haunches, and readied his bow and arrows to shoot. He was out in the open—a sitting duck. No match against a man with a gun. A moment passed. Time stood still.

Then someone hollered in Spanish, “Don’t even think about it, Frank!”

Frank felt disoriented. Visions of Cuba flashed before his eyes.
The voice was familiar, making Frank feel at once comforted and terrified. He stood. Tense. For a second, he wondered what to do.

Then Lazo appeared, walking in Frank’s direction. Frank couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt as if he were in a dream. His old friend came up beside him, a knowing smile lifting the corners of his lips.

“What the hell—?”

Lazo’s eyes brightened. “It’s over,” he said reassuringly. “Relax. It’s over. It’s clear.”

Frank nodded, trying to comprehend what Lazo was saying. Lazo looked his friend up and down.

“You okay, Frank?”

Frank looked at Lazo as if he were a mirage, an apparition. A million questions sprang to his mind, but he couldn’t ask them now. He had to focus on the situation at hand.

“I’m not okay yet,” he said. He pointed toward the hill. “Two more guys are up on that ridge—both armed. One is wounded. And I’ve got a friend in the area. He’s a hunter.”

“My men will take care of it,” said Lazo. “I’m sure your friend’s okay. These guys have no interest in him.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Frank nodded, suddenly feeling dizzy. He sat on a rock on the side of the creek to steady himself. He shook his head and looked at the two dead bodies. “What—?” Frank closed his eyes, trying to piece the scene together.

“Surprised to see me, Frank?”

Frank looked at Lazo, wondering how to respond. He gathered his wits and croaked, “Who the hell are these people, and what in God’s name are
you
doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” said Lazo.

“I bet it is. Try me.”

Lazo motioned to the stream bank, and the two men sat side by side. Lazo draped his arm around Frank.

“It was Pino’s idea.”

“Pino? I figured that bastard had something to do with this. So, he’s still around?”

“Yeah! He’s as hateful and vengeful as ever. And he still has it in for you.”

Frank shook his head. “After all this time? I don’t understand.”

“He’s commander of the Santa Maria base now.”

“How did that happen?”

“It’s a long story. Do you have time?”

“For you? After this? Yeah, I have all the time in the world.” Frank looked at Damian’s remains. “Who’s the kid?”

“Damian Baez. Special Forces just like you and me.”

Frank covered his mouth with his hand. It took him a moment to recover. “That explains it.”

Augustin emerged from the woods and approached the bodies. He kicked José with the toe of his boot to make sure he was dead. Then he removed his gun. He did the same to Damian.

Frank looked at Lazo, trying to formulate a question that would explain these bizarre events. Instead, he said, “Do you live in the States?”

“No, I still live in Cuba.”

Frank wondered how Lazo got to New Jersey. His mind was a blur. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“You saved my life—again. Why?”

“For friendship, Frank.” Lazo smiled. “Funny, isn’t it? Seems like I’m always saving the same old friend.”

Frank looked at Lazo in amazement, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that his buddy was sitting beside him. A squirrel scampered through the brush, carrying an acorn. He sat on his hind legs, holding his food with his paws, nibbling. He looked like a picture.

Shots rang in the distance. Frank glanced at Lazo who nodded. It dawned on Frank that his pursuers had met their fate. Elias was dead, and Sebastian had been put out of his misery.

Frank took a minute to settle his nerves. “Are you still in the army?”

“Permanent reserves.”

Frank sat in silence for a moment, groping for some way to make sense of the day. “What can I do for you? Do you want to stay with me? Defect? I’ll take care of you.”

“No, Frank, you did your job more than a decade ago. You were the first member of the force who had the guts to defy Fidel. You inspired thousands of Cubans. My job is to do what I can to overthrow the regime from within, and to tell as many people as I can about your escape.”

Frank was dumbfounded. He shook his head, amazed at Lazo’s words. Tears sprang to his eyes, remembering a time long past. Seeing Lazo made it all come back again. The two old friends sat for a minute in silence. Then they began to reminisce. They talked, laughed, hugged, and talked some more. Frank felt at home in Lazo’s company.

Frank was hungry for the latest news about his family, and Lazo filled him in about what he had heard. Lazo expressed his sympathy for the death of Frank’s father and grandfather and told Frank that his mother was healthy and well. Then he talked about Cuba. Lazo spoke in broad strokes. Details would come later.

Lazo related what had transpired in the army during and after Frank’s escape, and Frank told him what had happened on his end. While Frank was surprised to learn about Lazo’s position with the permanent reserves, he was more surprised to hear about Pino’s rehabilitation and plans to kill him. He had thought Pino would spend the rest of his life in jail.

“Whatever happened to Manny?” asked Frank. “I think about him often.”

Lazo turned his head. “Manny joined the Cuban intelligence.”

“Jesus, that’s a surprise.”

“His heart wasn’t in it,” said Lazo. “He couldn’t find a job. He needed to do whatever he could to survive.”

Frank considered this for a moment. “What about Lieutenant Brown?”

“Brown? The army sent him for more military training. He’s now back at the Santa Maria base. I see him all the time.”

“Did he ever become a member of the Party?”

“No. He still hates the communists for confiscating his family’s land. Besides, the Party would never consider his candidacy after what happened.”

“I figured as much.”

Lazo’s face turned somber. “I hesitate to ask, but I’m dying to know: Whatever happened to Magda?”

Frank pushed his lips into a neat, tight seam. Seeing Lazo brought back memories of Magda, some pleasant, some painful. “She died,” he said simply. “Cancer.”

Lazo shook his head, sickened at the news. “I was afraid it was something like that.”

Lazo placed his hand on Frank’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry, Frank.”

Frank puffed out his cheeks and said, “Me too.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, paying homage to Magda.

“Did you have children?”

“A daughter. Darlene. She just turned ten.”

“It must be tough on her.”

“It is. When we have time, I’ll tell you more about her. I’d love you to meet her.”

“That won’t be possible. I’ve got to get back to Cuba.”

“I understand.”

“But I’d like to hear more about your escape. I’ve thought about it often.”

“Not as often as I have, especially in the middle of the night.”

Lazo exhaled. “Sometimes it gets to us all in the middle of the night.”

Frank looked at Lazo, thinking about their friendship. “I’ve never had a chance to thank you.”

Lazo waved the comment away.

Frank shook his head. “My thinking is a little fuzzy. Tell me again why you’re going back to Cuba.”

“To do my job to infiltrate the army and to support the Cuban underground.”

“That sounds like gobbledygook. What does it mean?”

“It means I work for the CIA.”

“So, you and Manny work on opposite sides?”

“It’s more complicated than that. But I can’t discuss it.”

Frank looked at Lazo with heightened respect. “Jesus.”

“Why are you surprised, Frank? You gave the agency my name, remember?”

Frank thought for a minute and nodded. “I almost forgot about that. It seems so long ago. What about Pino? What will happen to him?”

“Pino’s in for a big surprise. He won’t be happy.”

Frank tried to grasp the full implication of Lazo’s words. But he was too tired to think.

“I feel so helpless. There must be something I can do.”

“There is,” said Lazo.

“What?”

Lazo looked across the stream, past Damian’s and José’s bodies, and said, “Be a good American.”

Frank was speechless. He knew what Lazo meant. He’d been trying to be a good American for years. Lazo hesitated a moment, and added, “One more thing—”

“Anything!”

“Tell your American friends that the embargo isn’t working. It’s hurting the Cuban people and giving Fidel an excuse for his failed policies. Cubans need to see more of America—your goods, your values, your way of life—not less.”