"Yeah, I do. It's like she's this troubled kid, she's gone wrong and now I need to save her from herself. There's so much talent there. So much intelligence. It makes me sick to think of what she's done."
He was pleased that neither of them raised their eyebrows or suggested there was a lascivious motive behind his concern.
Sue phoned in to say that she'd arrived and that she and Gelsey were getting along. Then, just at five, Luis's call came through. Janek took it in his office. Although it had been only three weeks since he'd departed Cuba, he felt he was talking to an old friend.
They exchanged pleasantries, then Luis's voice turned grave:
"Please listen, Frank. I am calling from a friend's house, someone high up in our government. What I have to say must be said in a special way.
There is a chance we will be cut off. If I cannot speak as openly as I like, you will understand."
"I hear you, Luis. Go ahead."
"Before we met, you had some trouble here."
"I haven't forgotten," Janek said.
"Just this week there were important changes in that agency. People who were in charge are no longer in charge, and others, including some of my friends, now have the upper hand."
"Go on."
"These friends, people I have known for years, tell me that my role assisting you did not come about by accident. It was, they tell me now, prearranged. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Janek sat still. "I'm not sure."
"it would seem that all the things that happened-between you and personnel of that agency, between you and me, between the two of us and the lady-were planned out in advance. It was Fonseca's operation. What I am saying, Frank, is that he knew you were coming even before you arrived. Arresting you had nothing to do with papers found in your luggage."
Janek felt something throb along his rib cage. When he brought his hand to his forehead, he felt sweat.
"Still there?"
"I'm here, Luis. Go on."
"Using me that way was classic technique. Bad cop/ good cop. Except I did not know I was playing a part." Luis sounded concerned. "Please believe me, Frank. If I had participated in this, I would not be telling you now."
"I know that. What about Tania? Was she playing a part, too? Was she tampered with?"
Luis paused. "Remember your last night here? We discussed whether she might have told a big lie. I cannot be sure, but now I believe that she did."
Shit!
"It is what they call ' cinema,' Frank. The agency specializes in such dramas. I told you your interrogator was an actress. Now it turns out they were all actors. And the place they took you to was not a real installation. It was built for such things, like a stage set.
Do you understand?"
I understand, all right! Why didn't I spot it? How could I have been so dumb?
"Listen, Luis… " He heard panic in his voice. "Who was behind it? Do you know?"
"Fonseca was what they call ' director." Perhaps this will be of some comfort to you: He is now in prison, accused of drug trafficking. He will soon be tried for that and for peligrosidad. It is possible he will be executed. The only thing I have been able to discover is that several months ago he was in New York on a covert mission working on a drug investigation in collaboration with U.S. authorities. So, my thought is that the cinema he spun around you was in exchange for assistance he received from someone up there." Luis paused. "I am only guessing, Frank. Now they are signaling me to get off. I will call again if I find out more. Believe me, I did not look forward to telling you this.
Believe also that what I have told you is true."
"Thank you, Luis. You are a brave man."
"Perhaps not so brave, Frank. But you are my friend. I hope next time we will have a happier conversation."
After Janek put down the phone he sat in his chair absolutely still. He knew there was no possibility that Luis had lied; if he had knowingly participated in the cinema, he would not have called to confess it.
Which meant, Janek realized, that he had been set up by someone in his own department. It was as if, he decided, he'd been stumbling around in a maze as devious, confusing and illusionistic as the one Gelsey's father had built. The charade was so baroque, it was worthy of Dakin.
And, he remembered, Dakin's buddy Baldwin had been present the night he had met with Angel Figueras. But Janek didn't think Dakin and Baldwin were behind the Cuban cinema. He had a sickening feeling who was.
Tom Shandy, the red-haired sergeant who guarded the door to Kit's office, was not encouraging. Chief Kopta was in a meeting, then had to go home to change for dinner with the commissioner. Sure, Janek could take a seat, and perhaps Shandy could slip him in. It would make things easier if Janek would tell him what he wanted, or, if it was confidential, he could write a note to the chief and Shandy would carry it to her.
"I'll do that," Janek said. He pulled out his notebook, scrawled the word Mendoza, ripped out the page, folded it and handed it to Shandy.
"Just give her this."
Shandy, who had pretended to avert his eyes but had seen him write the forbidden word, nodded knowingly.
"I'll see she gets it right away."
Fifteen minutes later, a half dozen detectives lumbered out of Kit's office. They had the hangdog look of big men who'd been harshly rebuked by a small, authoritative woman. One nodded to Janek, but the others walked quickly into the hall. There'll be some hard drinking tonight, Janek thought.
A minute later Shandy waved him through. "Try to move it along, Lieutenant. Gotta get the chief outa here."
Kit was at her desk, writing. The room smelled of the sweat of the berated detectives who'd just left.
"Be right with you, Frank. Take a seat."
He moved toward her desk, but didn't sit. Rather he stood opposite her, waiting until she glanced up at him, a curious smile on her lips.
"You don't look too happy," she observed.
"You set me up."
He spoke the words as quietly and simply as he could. He had rehearsed his phrasing in her waiting room.
"What?" She stopped writing, focused on his eyes. "What're you talking about?" She smiled more broadly, but he didn't smile back.
"In Cuba. They were waiting for me. You told them I was coming."
She stared at him, eyes steady, unblinking. Then the stale smell in the room gave way to something else. When he'd entered he'd been uncertain of his ground. No longer. Kit's reaction was too stressful, her gaze too concentrated, her attempt to appear opaque too obvious.
"Fonseca's in jail. He'll probably be executed. For drug dealing and something they call peligrosidad. Know what that means, Kit?