"Call me Frank, Luis-I'd appreciate that. You have a family?-"
"A wife and two daughters." Ortiz grinned. janek turned back to the street. A billboard loomed ahead. The words were in Spanish, but he had no difficulty understanding them: SOCIALISMO O MUERTE-"Socialism or Death."
"Are you a Communist, Luis?"
"I am not a counterrevolutionary." He glanced at Janek. "And you, are you a capitalist, Frank?"
Janek smiled. "Where I come from cops don't accumulate much capital."
"Nor here… if they are honest."
"And you're honest, is that what you're telling me, Luis?"
The answer, when it came, was a good deal more serious than Janek expected. "In these difficult times that is the only thing I can hold on to," the young man said gravely.
They drove a while in silence. A bus ahead of them spewed thick black smoke. A truck barreled past them, radio blaring. Havana seemed more lively than three mornings before, perhaps because it was early and people were on their way to work.
"Let's get some coffee."
Luis shook his head. "Coffee is rationed. There are no more cafes."
"There must be a place-" Yes, Luis told him, there were several hard-currency restaurants that catered exclusively to foreign visitors.
"I've got hard currency," Janek said.
"But Senora Figueras-"
"She can wait."
For a moment Luis hesitated, then he nodded. "Yes, of course," he said.
He turned the car around and drove west toward the suburbs. In an area called Miramar, Janek noticed mansions with spacious gardens and sentry posts. Luis told him these were foreign embassies or the homes of high officials. He turned down a side street, passed through a wooded area, pulled into a parking lot and stopped before a vast open structure with a thatched roof.
As they walked toward it, Janek could see that it enclosed numerous tables set with plates and utensils. But except for a lone waitress, the huge place was empty.
"The tourists will come later, perhaps a group tour in the evening,"
Luis explained. He selected a table, ordered coffee. After the waitress drifted off, Janek leaned forward.
"What do you know about the Mendoza case?"
"Only what Senora Figueras told me."
Luis outlined Mendoza as if it were nothing more than a case of a man who had arranged the brutal murder of his wife.
"She told me she knew you had been looking for her after the homicide.
She was surprised to learn you still wanted to speak with her. She said these events took place many years ago and that Mr. Mendoza has been in prison for a long time."
"That's true."
"Then, why are you still investigating, Frank?"
"There are still many unanswered questions."
"You will tell me about them?"
"Maybe. First there's something else." The waitress returned with two cups of Cuban coffee.
Janek waited until she slipped away. "There was a woman who interrogated me. Do you know the one I mean?" Luis nodded. "Who is she?" Luis exhaled. When he spoke it was in the manner of an efficient, well-informed cop. "Her name is Violetta Bonilla. She is well known in Havana. Actually, she is a member of our National Theater troupe."
Janek stared at him. "An actress?"
Luis nodded. "The Seguridad uses her because of her English. She was brought up in Miami, where her father lived in the exile community, one of our best penetration agents until they pulled him back. Violetta went to school in the States and claims to understand Americans. There is a rumor that her lover is a Minister of State. I cannot confirm that for you." "She said she was a captain."
Luis shrugged. "The ranks of nonservice personnel are simulated, a method of flattery the segurosos learned from the KGB. But be assured that when Violetta examined you she was but a marionette dancing to Fonseca's tune. He is a colonel. What we call ' serious man." " He paused. "Perhaps you would like to see Violetta in another context?"
"What context?"
"She is performing now in a play. I can get us tickets. Tonight we can go together, make ourselves known." Luis smiled. "Your presence in the audience might unnerve her a little bit."
Janek smiled. It was a tempting idea. He actually liked Luis for proposing it. But there was a side of him that wanted never to see Violetta Bonilla again.
"No, thanks," he said. "I only want to know why they arrested me."
"You drew their attention."
"How?"
Luis shrugged again. "The segurosos do what they like and explain nothing. That is one reason they are dangerous." Janek stared at him. "I don't get it. I've thought back over everything. I can't figure out where I gave myself away. I know they can't search everybody's bags. So, why'd they choose mine?"
"This bothers you?"
"Of course."
"Because you are a professional."
"Because I must have made a mistake."
Luis stroked his chin. "I am not certain, but I believe they thought you were a bounty hunter."
"What?
Luis nodded. "Fonseca mentioned it. There is a rich American living here. I am sure you have heard of him an extremely crooked financier wanted by your government. Several attempts have already been made to capture this man and abduct him back to the States. I believe they thought you were another abductor, perhaps the advance man for a group."
"That's ridiculous!"