He gazed at her. Still her eyes didn't waver. She showed him nothing and that infuriated him.
"When I came back from Cuba and we sat here together, you pretended you didn't know what happened down there.
"I didn't."
"Maybe not the details, but you sure as hell knew the drift." He glared at her. "Didn't you?"
She looked down for a moment, then met his eyes again. When she spoke it was nearly in a whisper. "I told him not to hurt you, Frank. He promised me he wouldn't."
"Bitch!" He whispered the insult. She trembled before it. Then he spoke loudly, hoping her staff would hear, and cluster, worried, outside her door:
"Think it doesn't hurt to be locked up in a closet for three days, pissing and shitting in a bucket, then some gorilla throws in a lousy crust of bread hoping it falls into your slop? Get slapped across the mouth when you ask to see the American consul? Sit in a smock cut short so it doesn't cover your balls, while a vicious anorexic, with snake's eyes and khaki nail polish, smirks at pictures of you lying naked on the floor? No, there weren't any injuries, Kit! Just the kind of experiences that haunt you while you're trying to get to sleep. I wasn't really harmed-just humiliated, made to feel like shit." He shook his head.
"Then they were clever. They sent over a nice young detective who treated me like a human being. I did my job. But, see, I would have done it anyway. So, tell me-why, the fuck did I have to go through all that. first?"
There was a knock on the door. Shandy stuck in his head.
"Everything okay, Chief?"
Kit waved her hand. Shandy squinted at Janek, then withdrew.
"I didn't know about any of that. I'm sorry."
Her regret was so perfunctory, it maddened him even more.
"How'd you think they'd do it? Put me up in a luxury suite, then have me worked over by some jineteros?"
"Hub?"
"Tourist prostitutes."
She shook her head. "It was wrong. I shouldn't have gone for it. I'm so sorry, Frank. At the time it seemed like a good idea." She paused.
"Obviously it wasn't."
Sure, you're sorry-now that I've. figured it out.
"Why? Why'd you even think to do something like that?" She didn't answer. Was he seeing things or were her eyes actually watering up? "I didn't go down there to clear Mendoza. I went there for you. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for you. Anything! Until five this afternoon." He shook his head. "I want an explanation. I'm not asking, I'm demanding."
She nodded, stood, walked over to the window.
"You deserve that… of course."
He studied her as she stared down at Police Plaza. Lights were coming on in the surrounding buildings. The sky was almost dark.
"Fonseca was here, working with DEA. The way they explained it to me, Castro wanted to show us he wasn't in the drug business, so he was getting rid of all his people who were. One day I got a call from my counterpart at DEA. ''s this Cuban security colonel here. He says he's got something'll interest you. Can we send him over?"
" She turned to Janek. "All day long I see detectives. Three years in this job and I can tell right away if a guy's got it or not. Fonseca had it. Intelligence, confidence. You'd expect a Cuban coming in here to maybe act a little intimidated. Not Fonseca. He was matter-of-fact. He talked to me like we were equals." She paused.
"Maybe I got suckered. I didn't know he was in trouble. Wait till the DEA guys find out. They'll be shitting in their pants!"
She grinned at him, an obvious attempt to warm him up. But Janek didn't warm. He thought: I'm not giving her an inch till I hear it all.
"Fonseca got to the point pretty quick. Mendoza's maid-somehow he knew we'd been looking for her-was in Havana working for his government.
Since the case was so divisive here, maybe I'd be interested in sending someone down to talk to her. She was, he assured me, willing to be interviewed. In fact, she'd come to the Seguridad herself.
"Of course I was interested. How could I not be? Dakin's still got buddies around, guys like Baldwin, who think they own the Department.
I've been wanting to clean house ever since I got sworn in, clear up Mendoza once and for all and get rid of the rest of Dakin's crowd. Maybe this Tania knew something that could help clear the case. I told Fonseca I'd send someone down."
"Right, someone."
"It had to be you, Frank." The room had grown dim; as she spoke she turned on the lamps. "You'd worked on the case, you knew a lot about it, but you weren't tainted. No one had more knowledge, more credibility.
There wasn't anyone else."
"So you decided to set me up."
"It wasn't like that. Fonseca said that Tania really knew something and if I wanted to clear the case it would be a good idea to make sure my interviewer believed what she had to say. He said he could make sure you were receptive by arresting you first, scaring you a little, then pairing you with a gentle cop who'd guide you through the interview."
"Bad cop/good cop to soften me up! I can't believe I'm hearing this!"
"It's true, I swear."
"Oh, I believe that's what he said. I just can't believe you'd buy into such bullshit."
"He made sense, Frank. I didn't want any screw-ups. What I had in mind for Baldwin and the others had to be perfectly executed. I couldn't take a chance."
"No, there's gotta be more." He peered at her. "You screwed him, didn't you?" She stared back ferociously. Sure, that's it. Fonseca sized you up: ' tough, unmarried middle-aged female police executive.
No time for a lover or a relationship. All she needs is a good fucking.
I'll give it to her and she'll eat shit out of my hand."
"Stop it, Frank!"
"Sure, that's it." He nodded. "He fucked your brains out and afterwards you told him everything. You discussed it with him like you were… ha!
Colleagues."
She screamed at him: "Will you stop!"
He turned; he couldn't bear to look at her. "You never stopped to think why he would propose such a screwy deal. What rancid pile of goods he was selling. No, you just took the bait, same way DEA did. A guy like Fonseca takes in everybody. Except now, it seems, he may have gone too far."
"I was lonely, Frank."