DANGEROUS MERGERS
Chapter 14
Tank and Detective Lopez had spent the afternoon cruising the streets of Little Havana. Their combined opinion after quizzing several of their contacts was that no one was talking about Miguel. On one hand, they found that reassuring; on the other hand, they were hoping to hear some rumor about Miguel's whereabouts.
Lopez parked the car one block down from Elena's Little Restaurant. Tank had suggested that they save Elena's until last for two reasons: first, the food and second, the evening radio broadcast from Cuba. Not the 'normal' broadcast, but the one sent each night from a different location and from a different freedom fighter.
Tank waited on the sidewalk, inhaling the mouth-watering smells that permeated from Elena's while Lopez called in his final report of the day. He knew the menu by heart; it hadn't changed in thirty years, neither had the excellent quality of the food.
"God forgive me, but I think Elena cooks better than my own mother," Lopez said when he joined Tank.
Tank laughed and turned to open the door to the small restaurant. "Come on, I'm hungry."
Inside, the two waited until a pretty young girl, about sixteen years old, led them to a small table against the wall. Without offering Lopez a choice, Tank selected the chair that allowed him to watch the door and keep his back against the wall.
"My name is Rosetta." The young girl's voice was soft with just a hint of womanhood. She handed each of them a menu, "My brother, José, will be your waiter tonight." Her eyes remained downcast except for the occasional shy glance at each man, but she did roll them upward to catch one last glimpse of the large man. He was the largest man she had ever seen.
"Thank you, Rosetta," Tank said with a smile. He watched the young girl's cheeks glow with a faint gleam of pink under her caramel-colored skin. She flashed Tank a brief smile before she turned quickly and made her way to the kitchen.
Neither men bothered to peruse the menus they held in their hands; instead they cast a casual survey of the room. The kitchen door swung open and a young man approached their table. His eyes spared Lopez a momentary glance before he focused his attention on Tank.
"Can I take your order?" he asked without taking his eyes off Tank.
"Es Mamá Elena aquí?" Tank asked.
The young man continued to stare at the large man. He wasn't sure what had surprised him more, the man's size or the fact that he spoke perfect Spanish. He swallowed, trying to dislodge the dry lump that seemed to be stuck halfway down his throat.
"José!" Rosetta appeared next to her brother and gave him a shove, trying to awaken him from his stupor.
"What?" José narrowed his eyes at his little sister. In return, Rosetta flashed him a genuine sweet little sister smile.
"Okay, you two," the brief sound of Tank's deep laughter brought an end to their sibling stand off. "Is Mama Elena here?"
Both kids looked at him. "Sí," they said in unison, Rosetta giggled and ran for the kitchen door.
José didn't follow his little sister; instead he remained at the table. Tank watched when the look on the young man's face changed from one of wonderment to that of a young protector. Tank wondered what his relationship to Mama Elena was; maybe he was her grandson. Before Tank could ask, the kitchen door swung open and a short stout older woman stepped into the dining room. She was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and speaking in a soft steady stream of Spanish that was only meant to be heard by her own ears. Hands dry, she looked at José and then at the two customers. A smile broke out on her face and her steps quickened.
"Big Man!" she called in English broken by a heavy Spanish accent, her short arms open wide in welcome.
Tank pushed his chair away from the table, stood, and lifted the old woman off the floor in a welcoming hug. He kissed her on the cheek before he settled her feet back down on the floor. "You're still beautiful, Mama Elena." Tank smiled at her.
Elena smiled up at him, her pudgy hand caressing the spot on her blushing cheek where Tank had kissed her. "You've been gone too long. Come." She turned her steps in the direction of the kitchen door, never doubting that he would heed her short command.
Tank followed Elena and right behind him came the rest of the parade: Lopez, Rosetta, and José. Elena directed Tank and Lopez to sit at a small table arranged in a far corner of the spotless kitchen. She clapped her hands and issued new instructions to the two youngsters. Each kid managed to catch one last wide-eyed look at the two strangers that had been invited to eat at Elena's private table.
Elena didn't ask what the two men would like to eat; she would serve them her specialty and enjoy watching the big man eat more than five regular men. Elena set to work, directing the other two cooks in her kitchen while combining the many spices that permeated the very heart and soul of her cooking with the other ingredients native to her homeland.
The kitchen door swung open and a thin man with graying hair walked in, smiling not only with his mouth, but also with his eyes. He carried two ice cold bottles of Hatuey beer. Small drops of condensation were just starting to run down the neck of the bottles, only to be stopped by the elder gentleman's stubby fingers that were wrapped around the bottles. Placing a bottle in front of each man, he then extended his hand to Tank.
Tank stood when the man walked into the room, reaching to shake the hand that was being offered. Tank's large hand could have covered the smaller man's hand twice.
"How are you, Martin?" Tank asked.
"Very well, but it has been too long since my wife and I have seen you." Martin glanced over at his wife, Elena, as she bustled around the kitchen. "Where is Ric?" the older man asked.
Tank answered without hesitation, "Ric is in Cuba." The clatter of kitchen movements stopped and Elena crossed herself while she whispered a brief prayer.
"Can I help?" Martin asked without hesitation, his serious eyes studying Tank's face.
"I was hoping you'd offer your help," Tank replied. "I'll vouch for Lopez," Tank reassured Martin. The older man nodded and then started walking toward the back of the kitchen.
Tank unfolded his body from the chair once more, took a pull of his beer, and tilted his head to the side, indicating that Lopez should follow them. "Keep your mouth shut or I'll kill you." Lopez just shook his head in resignation and followed the other two men through a door in the back of the kitchen.
oOoOo
Julio turned his head a fraction to the right; he took in the sleeping profile of the woman next to him. Convincing the new Mrs. Manoso to come with him had almost been too easy. His eyes drifted down over her body. She was beautiful, but he would have expected nothing less when it came to Ricardo. His eyes lingered over the roundness of her stomach; his nephew had wasted no time in planting his seed. Ricardo was very much like his father; not interested in how much money they could make from Cuba's hardships; instead he cared about the people. Like his father, Ricardo freely spent his own money to help the resistance. The young man was a fool; together he and Ricardo could have amassed unbelievable fortunes. With a disgusted sigh, Julio ignored the sleeping woman, dismissing her as an ordinary, spoiled American woman.
Feigning sleep, Stephanie felt the man's eyes on her. She had tried to watch the road, hoping to memorize directions and landmarks, but her concentration was fractured after a few minutes. Her mind kept replaying the chain of events that happened after she stepped out of the closet. She had been so filled with purpose; foolish in thinking that she could control the situation by stepping forward. Well, maybe not control the situation, but to stop the need for innocent people being hurt because of her.
She willed herself not to let the son of a bitch see her cry and tasted the salty tears that entered her throat instead of running down her cheeks. She hadn't been able to stop the monster sitting next to her from harming Enrique. One of Julio's armed thugs had struck the small boy on the side of his head as he tried to protect her. Again, her mind saw his small thin body collapse in slow motion, the blood starting to mat his dark hair. It was at that moment that she had walked out of the hotel room exactly when Julio had ordered her to do so.
This time she wasn't successful in keeping the tears from escaping and she turned her head away from the monster. Nothing in life had prepared her for witnessing the intentional act of harming a child.
oOoOo
Abrahan admired the energy his cousin Ricardo expended in his attempt to remain calm during their drive back into town. He smiled when he imagined the reunion between Ricardo and his new wife. His mental image sharpened with the remembrance of her finger poking into his chest and he released a deep laugh.
"What's so funny?" Ranger asked, frowning at his cousin.
"I was just thinking about your wife," Abrahan laughed again. "I'm afraid you are going to spend part of your honeymoon answering her many questions, my cousin."
Ranger nodded his head in agreement. "She's not shy about stating her opinion."
"Maybe once she is finished with you, we should arrange for your wife to meet with El Presidenté." Abrahan smiled and then laughed even harder at the look of horror on Ranger's face. "Relax, cousin, we'll collect her soon."
Ranger parked the blue monstrosity as close to the hotel's entrance as he could, hoping that if Stephanie were in town, her curiosity would force her to investigate the car or seek out its owner.
The smiles that Ranger and Abrahan wore on their faces disappeared when they entered the hotel. Only three hotel employees were visible; no patrons mingled about. Ranger noticed the woman working behind the desk, her hands shook when she wiped away a stray curl from her forehead.
Abrahan approached the two male employees and exchanged a few brief words with them. He tore off up the stairs, yelling for Ranger to follow him.
Ranger cleared the last step and came up behind Abrahan who stood frozen inside an opened door. Pushing past him, Ranger entered the room. In front of him was a man sitting on the floor, cradling the limp body of a small boy in his arms.