Chapter 9
Thanks for the comments/reviews! I'm going out of town for a few days, so this will be the last installment for probably a week-I just wanted to assure those reading that I haven't forgotten. :-)
Before Dimitri headed to the local hospital to terminate Lionel, he paid a brief visit to the Russian embassy in Havana. Being a member of the FSB, he had unhindered access to all the embassy offices, so when he found what he needed, he slipped out as unobtrusively as he came in. The fewer people who saw him in Cuba—even his fellow countrymen, the better.
He made his way to the hospital shortly before 7 pm that evening. As he approached, he slipped on the white coat and medical ID badge he'd lifted from an embassy medical staff member. He wasn't concerned about the badge being Russian as it wasn't uncommon for Russian medical personnel stationed in Havana to visit and cooperate with their Cuban counterparts on behalf of patients. Finding Lionel would not be difficult. He'd faced more troublesome obstacles than hospital staff and if they posed a problem . . . he fingered the syringe in his coat pocket.
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Callen and Anna did not return to his hotel that night. Anna suggested they spend the night at her flat because it was closer which meant they wouldn't have to navigate Havana's traffic. An added bonus was that it was near a restaurant that had some of the best seafood on the island, and both of them were famished. Callen had no objections. Anna needed to get some things together anyway, and they could go back to his hotel room tomorrow. And he trusted her completely when it came to choosing restaurants since his go-to food was either a Big Mac or a Double Double.
They took the main highway, the Carretera Central, most of the way to Havana, but exited at Rosa Marina and drove north until they reached the Carretera Panamericana and headed east. A little before 10 pm and after a dinner of some of the best calamari he'd ever had, Callen pulled the Impala into a gravel driveway beside a small, stucco cottage with a bright Afro Cuban mural commanding the exterior wall. The neighborhood was fairly quiet although many of the surrounding houses and apartments had lights shining through the shades and people sat and talked on porches in the dark or by candlelight.
When they exited the car, the gravel scrunched under their shoes. Anna took out her key, pushed open the door, and stepped in, and Callen followed and closed the door behind him. Anna switched on the light. A tin chandelier suspended from the ceiling illuminated the room. It was a single room, no more than 20 x 25 in size with a small galley kitchen along the back wall and a double bed butted up against the wall that separated the room from the driveway. A gooseneck lamp sat on the small table beside the bed. Opposite the bed was a small closet and next to it a wire stand with a few baskets that held odds and ends. The tiny bathroom was in the corner between the kitchen and the closet. There were two unmatched wooden chairs around a small, square, brightly painted wood table situated halfway between the bed and kitchen. And that was all. "This could almost be my place, except for that table," Callen said pointing to the brightly painted one. "That would keep me awake at night."
"That's my favorite piece," Anna laughed and drew her top over her head and threw it over the back of a chair. "And I doubt that anything will keep you awake tonight." She headed into the bathroom. When she came out a few minutes later, Callen's clothes were tossed across a chair and he was under the sheet sound asleep. Anna removed the rest of her clothes and crawled into bed, curled up against his naked body, and laid one arm gently across him and tucked her other under her pillow.
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"Good evening," Dimitri said as he approached the hospital's registration desk. There was no response, so Dimitri repeated his greeting a little louder. The attendant on duty snapped his book shut and hastily removed his earbuds, startled to see a visiting doctor waiting on him. Dimitri frowned and viewed the young man with a critical stare. The attendant, rattled by the unexpected visitor, checked Dimitri's identification in haste, and failed to notice the marked differences between the photo on the badge and the man standing in front of him. He saw a man in a white doctor's coat wearing a medical badge in Russian which he couldn't read who appeared and acted official. "I understand that you have a patient suffering from methanol toxicity, Lionel Fernandez." The attendant checked the patient admittance records and told Dimitri the room number. He watched Dimitri walk down the corridor, checking the room numbers carefully, and eventually reopened his book and replaced his earbuds.
Dimitri reached the door of Lionel's room as a nurse came out of a patient's room a few doors down and cast a glance in his direction. He smiled. She didn't. She looked down at the chart she carried, not interested in socializing and then walked in the opposite direction. The last thing she wanted to do at the end of a long shift was engage in small talk with some strange doctor. Dimitri clasped the syringe in his coat pocket and opened the door of Lionel's room.
As he left Lionel's room, Dimitri's steps echoed through the tiled corridor. The attendant had just hung up the phone when he heard Dimitri approaching. Dimitri's body language and expression projected irritation, even anger, and he slapped his thigh with considerable force. The attendant called out before Dimitri reached the entrance, "Doctor, was there a problem with Senor Fernandez?"
"A problem? Yes, there was a problem," Dimitri almost shouted. "He wasn't there." And with that he passed out the entrance and disappeared into the Havana night.
The attendant, confused, looked around the now empty and eerily silent reception area and then picked up the desk phone and dialed the head nurse.
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A little after midnight, Callen woke up. Looking into the darkness, he momentarily forgot where he was, and then he felt Anna beside him. The headlights of a passing car shone through the window and cast a fleeting abstract pattern across the opposite wall. A dog barked in the distance. He rolled onto his back and Anna's arm slid across his chest, but she didn't wake. He stared at her hand and smiled and then shifted his gaze to the ceiling. The nightmares hadn't returned since he'd arrived in Cuba. He'd come back to Cuba because of Anna, but now he was glad he was here because of Dimitri. Callen knew that even if Dimitri was working alone and unsanctioned, as a member of FSB, he would still have access to things—weapons, transportation, intelligence—through the Russian Embassy. As a former NCIS agent, Callen had access to none of those things, and Anna, as a fugitive, was even more isolated. She couldn't even go to the American Embassy. He wondered if, perhaps, he should have resigned after his trip to Cuba. Of course, he probably would have been fired if he'd made this trip while an agent, so it was six of one, half a dozen of the other. For the briefest possible second earlier that night after they discovered the needles in Anna's car, Callen thought of contacting Hetty, but he tossed it aside. He was pretty sure Hetty wouldn't appreciate another text message from him. He turned back on his side and fell asleep.
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Dimitri believed that he had things under control only a few hours earlier, but now he felt that he was losing control quickly. He needed to get command of the situation soon or risk running out of time, discovery by his FSB superiors, or failing completely. He needed to know tonight if Anna had survived Cayo Jutias. If she had, he would need to resort to measures that were less stealthy but more reliable. He made the decision to drive back to Cayo Jutias that evening, but before doing so, he returned to the Iberostar. Even now, it was possible that both Anna and Callen lay dead in Callen's hotel room.
When Dimitri entered the hotel lobby, he was still wearing the white coat. He had hoped to slip in unnoticed, but Ms. Ramirez at the registration desk recognized him, and when she smiled at him, he couldn't ignore her.
"Ms. Ramirez, hello again. I was wondering if Mr. Weston has returned yet."
"I didn't realize you were a doctor," she said impressed. "I haven't seen him, but I did go on a dinner break, so it's possible he returned. Would you like me to ring his room again?"
"Yes, please."
She did and when there was no answer, she shook her head.
"He must be having a good time," Dimitri said with a short laugh. "I'll come back tomorrow. I can survive without my phone for one night." He glanced over at the bar across the lobby. "But I may not be able to survive without a cocktail."
"Enjoy your evening," Ms. Ramirez said as the phone on her desk rang. "Good evening, Iberostar Parque Grande. How may I help you?"
Dimitri crossed the lobby, avoided the bar, and again took the elevator to Callen's floor. He waited until the hallway was clear of guests and then opened the door and, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, made a quick check of the room. Empty. Callen had not returned to his hotel. Dimitri didn't know if that was because Anna was dead and he was on the run or because he and Anna just hadn't returned yet. It was time to find out.
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The guard who had been on duty when Callen and Anna arrived earlier that day was in the guard station when Dimitri drove up that night and presented his passport.
"So, did you find your sister and Mr. Weston, Mr. Kuznetsov?"
Dimitri's expression became inscrutable and he said to the guard, "I don't think I've seen you before. How did you know I was looking for my sister and Mr. Weston?"
"The other guard, Pedro, mentioned it to me when I came on duty. It was such a special story. He thought it was quite the," he searched for an expression, "historia conmovedora."
"It is," Dimitri agreed, smiling. "Did you happen to tell my sister that I was looking for her?"
The guard smiled back and shrugged, "Pedro told me to keep it a secret, but I did tell her by mistake. She seemed happy to know that you were trying to find her, but I'm sorry if I spoiled your surprise."
"That makes two of us." The guard raised his head in time to see Dimitri fire one shot into his chest. There were no witnesses and the muffled shot echoed into silence in the night air. Dimitri drove past the guard's body now lying half on the causeway and past the empty parking areas until he reached the burned hulk of the Valiant. He got out to check, but he already knew: Anna was still alive, and that meant Callen was still alive.
Dimitri left Cayo Jutias after midnight and headed back to Havana. Once he returned to the city, he would make life much more difficult for both of them.
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Very early the next morning, Callen and Anna were awakened by a soft, rapid knock on the door. Anna grabbed Callen's shirt and threw it on as she opened the door slightly. Standing at the door was one of her neighbors, an elderly woman, who was clearly upset.
"Luz, what is it? What's the matter?"
The woman spoke in a rapid whisper, "Miss Anna, you must leave, quickly. The PNR, policía, they may be coming."
"Why? Why would they come here?"
"The radio says you and a Eugene Weston," and Luz looked past Anna and saw Callen getting dressed, "killed a man at Cayo Jutias last night." Luz gave Anna a look that said she had been in love before, and admired Anna's choice of a lover. "I know you did not because you and su amante have been home all night. But they will take you away no matter what I say. You are la extranjera, a foreigner."
"Thank you, Luz."
"I like you, Miss Anna, but you should go, both of you."
Luz scurried away and Anna saw that Callen, already dressed except for his shirt, was packing a small duffle bag he'd found in the closet. Without a word, Anna handed him his shirt, got dressed herself, and packed another small duffle bag. In less than ten minutes they were in the car and driving through the colorful neighborhood that was Jaimanitas.
"We need to change cars," was all Callen said as they headed south.
