2 Men 2 Mysteries: Fate Changed the Life of One Man, the Other Challenged Fate.

CAMELIA COLÓN TOWNSEND

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© 2014 Camelia Colón Townsend. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse  05/09/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0881-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0880-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0879-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014907891

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CONTENTS

Nelson: A Washington Intrigue

1. The Encounter

2. Nelson’s Life In Cuba

3. On Assignment

4. An Investigation

5. The Plot

6. A Girl Named Yoani

7. The Caller

8. The Detective

9. The Informer

10. Disclosure

11. Love In Manhattan

12. Back In Havana

13. The Project

14. Return To The Past

15. Life Goes On

Orlando: Living Dangerously

A Privileged Child

A Rebellious Teenager

Higher Aspirations

Life Takes A Turn

Fighting For A Cause

A Happy Return

Lawyer And Politician

The Expected And The Unexpected

A Path To Victory And Defeat

A Refugee In America

Facing Death

Acknowledgments

To my husband, Lewis.

A WASHINGTON INTRIGUE

1

THE ENCOUNTER

I t was morning rush hour traffic and the George Washington Parkway was packed with vehicles heading south. A young man, Nelson Santana, was behind the wheel of his older Chevy. He was anxious to get to his office, but the long line of cars in front of him extended as far as he could see and was barely moving. Annoyed with the slow traffic, Nelson turned his head and glanced at the Potomac River. Down below, in the calm waters of the river, he spotted some Georgetown University students practicing for a coming regatta. The scene somehow calmed his anxiety, although that morning he was feeling uneasy.

Nelson raised his eyes and the dome of the nation’s Capitol came into view. Far in the distance, against a bright blue sky was the impressive building that to him represented America’s democratic political system. It was a sight that never failed to touch a nerve. On the other side of the river was the capital of the United States and he was heading in that direction, to the place where he worked, to the city that somehow made him feel part of an influential and energetic world.

Memories rushed in and he saw himself as a child on his grandmother’s lap while she showed him photos of the American capital. Since an early age, his dream had been walking the streets of Washington, but he was too young then to understand that the capital of the powerful nation, so close to his native Cuba, was out of reach. Later, as a young man, that wish seemed almost an impossible dream, but life took a turn and the dream became reality.

After crossing the Roosevelt Bridge, Nelson drove through the busy streets of Washington, passed the Vietnam Veterans Memorial and a few blocks later parked his car in the garage of the building where he worked. Walking fast the young man got into the elevator and when he reached his floor and stepped out, faced the receptionist who was greeting him with a friendly smile. She found Nelson attractive; he was single, muscular, fairly tall, and of the right age. The receptionist was hopeful he would suggest a date or at least ask her to lunch, but Nelson always kept his distance. Barely looking at the young woman, he smiled politely and walked to the newsroom. As he was entering his cubicle his boss, Carl, approached him.

Nelson, I just received this statement from Moscow. Need the translation ASAP.

Sure, Carl, said Nelson as he grabbed the paper. I’ll get to it right away.

The older man, tall and thin, turned around and without saying another word headed for his office. Once seated in front of his computer, Nelson took a look at the paper in his hand and realized that it was a statement from the Kremlin, obviously something of interest to his boss. He immediately began to put into English the words written in Russian. Immersed in the task, when his desk phone rang he didn’t even move his eyes from the computer screen. Three rings later, absent-mindedly, he extended his left arm and grabbed the phone.

Hello.

Is this Nelson Santana? asked a male voice with a heavy accent.

Yes, may I help you? responded Nelson casually.

Listen, the man said switching to Spanish. I have a document and a photo that might be of interest to your boss. The caller paused for a second. I would like to show it to you.

You would… Nelson was now paying attention. Who are you?

Call me… Roberto… Roberto Pérez.

Well, Roberto Pérez, why don’t you come to the office and my boss, his name is Carl Taylor, will take a look at what you have.

Look, Nelson, said the man in a slightly harsh tone, I know the name of your boss and know very well who you are.

You know me?

Yes, I do, the man replied, "Nelson, I want you to be the one approaching Señor Taylor. Believe me, he’ll want to see what I have."

Hey, why don’t you come to the office?

Not possible, I can’t do that. Are you free at lunch today?

Yes, I guess. Nelson replied without thinking of the implications.

Well, let’s meet at the Lincoln Memorial at noon. Have to go now. The phone went dead.

With his left hand still holding the phone, Nelson glanced at the caller ID, but there was no information. He thought about the short exchange and felt a bit curious; without any doubts, the caller had a Cuban accent. But he still didn’t understand why he wanted to meet him. Nelson returned to the translation and when finished, sent it to his boss, but having a second thought, he decided to print the page and hand it to him.

Here, Carl, all finished. Take a look at what Putin said.

The boss grabbed the page and quickly read the translation. Nelson, are you sure Putin spoke those words? I asked the Moscow bureau not to bother making the translation but to rush me the document in Russian, he paused reading the lines one more time. This statement is kind of a surprise, isn’t?

His exact words, Carl.

Nelson didn’t make any further comments, but was wondering why his boss, with all his past experiences, was questioning the statement. It was a long time, years, since he stopped being surprised by anything coming out of the Kremlin. He was about to tell Carl about the phone call he had just received but the boss was turning around and calling his secretary. The man seemed very busy and Nelson decided it was not the best time to bring up the subject.

Back at his desk, Nelson kept thinking about the phone call, wondering who the caller could possibly be. The man had said that he knew him well, but he didn’t remember knowing anyone by the name of Roberto Pérez. He tackled another translation. This time the story in front of him was in Spanish, but he couldn’t concentrate; his mind kept going back to the short phone conversation. It was a puzzle, a very strange call that made him a bit curious. About eleven thirty, Nelson decided to meet the caller and find out what it was all about. It was still early but he wanted to get to the Lincoln Memorial before the so-called Roberto Pérez arrived at the scene. Once outside the building he looked for a taxi, but it was lunch time and it took a while to find a free one. Although it was a short ride, the traffic was heavy and it took much longer than expected. When Nelson finally arrived, it was a few minutes past twelve o’clock.

That day the thermometer had reached ninety degrees but it was cloudy with a breeze that made the temperature bearable. As Nelson stepped onto the sidewalk, he removed his sunglasses and began to walk fast while looking right and left, checking the few people in the area. He saw a young woman walking the path holding the hand of a small girl while pointing to a place in the distance. He also saw two African American women seated by the Reflecting Pool talking while having lunch. Not far from him, was walking a gray haired man in army fatigues, probably an American veteran. He also noticed an elderly couple struggling to go up the steps to get to the statue of Lincoln. None of the people in the area could possibly be the caller. Nelson stopped and turned slightly to check a different angle. He was looking for a Latin man and could not spot any. Suddenly, a young woman walked straight into him, almost falling down after the impact of their bodies. She had been distracted while fidgeting with something in her purse.

So sorry, said Nelson holding the woman by the arm. Are you okay?

The young woman straightened herself and stared at him. She removed her large sunglasses and in a tone of total disbelief almost screamed: Nelson? Oh goodness, it is you!

Yoani! Nelson, his mouth open, looked at the woman standing in front of him. I can’t believe it. Yoani, you, you’re here! He was as shocked as she and barely capable of talking.

Nelson, forgetting the caller, grabbed her by the arm and they sat on the steps leading to the huge statue of the American President. They looked at each other, smiled and instinctively both turned their heads to survey the Mall. Not far, reflecting on the waters of the pool stood the tall marble obelisk in honor of George Washington. For a few minutes Yoani and Nelson said nothing, they were too nervous for words. The couple needed time to calm down so they just admired the beautiful spacious National Mall with its many trees. The Mall appeared to be an endless space and they both felt a surge of emotion at being in a place where they had never dreamed of being together.

Feeling the pressure of Nelson’s hand on her arm brought to Yoani a sensation she had almost forgotten. She looked at him and smiled while thinking that he was even more handsome than before with his blondish hair now combed straight back. He was wearing a suit and seemed a bit older, perhaps not older but more mature. What had not changed was the expression on his face and the warm way in which he always looked at her. Those thoughts were crossing her mind while they looked at each other trying to come to terms with the fact that they had found each other after a long separation.

Okay, said Nelson finally this is amazing. How come you are in Washington?

I live in this city, responded Yoani.

You do! When did you leave Cuba? And… for goodness sake, why haven’t you contacted me?

Ah, Nelson, how could I have contacted you? I didn’t know you were in Washington. I thought you were in Miami. She paused, her heart was beating fast and her mind was in turmoil. Nelson, how I was to get in touch with you? You never…

My family knows where I am, he interrupted her. Why didn’t you ask them? But wait; please don’t tell me you are here working at the Cuban Interest Section.

No, no, I am not, she responded quickly. I was attending a conference in Canada and defected. Yoani stopped, not sure what she should say. It is a long story, but to meet you here now; this is totally incredible. What are the odds of this happening?

Zero to none. And I would have never recognized you. Between the sunglasses and the cap covering your hair, you would have passed by me unnoticed. By then, Nelson was beginning to think clearly and burst the question that was popping into his head. Are you meeting someone?

No, of course not, a friend dropped me here; I work nearby and just wanted to take a walk. She spoke while looking at him with questioning eyes. And you, why are you here now? Are you meeting someone?

Nelson noticed the emphasis on the word ‘now,’ which she had used twice already. Yoani, I… he was going to tell her about the phone call from the stranger, but decided against it feeling that something didn’t seem right. I also came for a walk. I work for a news agency and needed a bit of fresh air to clear my head.

You work for a news agency! That’s great!

Yes, for more than three years. But, tell me Yoani, how long have you been in Washington?

Oh, actually, she thought for a moment, this coming August will be two years.

Two years! All that time and I didn’t know you were in the States. I can’t believe my parents or Grandmother Betty hadn’t mentioned anything. This makes no sense; they have to have known.

Maybe they don’t know where I am, right? Do you think that they are going to ask my family?

I guess you are right. Nelson shook his head and returned to the present. Yoani, who do you work for?

For a lobbyist who has several important clients from Latin America and needed… wait let me take this call. Her cell phone was ringing and Yoani moved a few steps away from Nelson.

What is going on, said a male voice in a whisper.

Mary, I guess you are on your way to pick me up. Yoani paused. I’ll be waiting for you at the place you dropped me. She quickly hung up and put the phone away. That was my friend; she’ll be here in a few minutes. Nelson, I really have to go, but let me give you my cell number. The young woman reached for her sunglasses, she didn’t want Nelson to see that her eyes were filling with tears.

Do you have to go? I can drop you at your office.

No, no, I have to go with Mary. We… we are going to meet an important client. Yoani seemed nervous, unsure of what to say. Sorry, but you know, work comes first. Call me, okay?

Of course, I’ll call you. Aren’t our lives linked somehow? Here, take my card. Let’s go, I’ll walk with you. Nelson got up and took her by the arm. As he was walking, he turned slightly and looked around, but saw no one who remotely could be the caller—no one who seemed suspicious.

What are you doing? Are you looking for someone? asked Yoani.

No, just checking on that old couple coming down the steps, they seem so frail.

Oh, I see. She spoke while writing her phone number on a piece of paper. And do you work close by?"

Not far. You can see on my card.

While Nelson and Yoani were walking in the direction of the street, a man behind the wheel of a parked black SUV put his binoculars down and, aware that Yoani had called him Mary reached in the back seat for a wig and sunglasses and drove around the block. A few minutes later he stopped the car and Yoani quickly got in.

What happened? Said the man while driving away and checking in his rearview mirror to make sure that the young man who had been with Yoani was walking in the opposite direction. You turned the radio off and sat to talk to that guy.

Yes, of course I turned off the two-way radio. I was afraid you would try to contact me. Hey, I sure hope he didn’t notice what I was doing.

Wait, slow down. First tell me, insisted the driver, who the hell is the guy?

Oh, this encounter was the most amazing thing! Yoani’s voice clearly showed her distress. That man is someone I have known since I was a child; he was my next door neighbor. We were… she stopped, thinking that there was no need to go into too many details. We were best friends since childhood.

I see. Did you spot the target making a contact? The driver inquired a bit annoyed at the situation.

No, no, I didn’t. I lost track of him.

Yes, because when you met that guy and were walking with him, he turned around and got back into his car. But, isn’t it too much of a coincidence that this friend of yours, also a Cuban, was at the spot at the same time as the target? Did he tell you what he was doing there?

Yes, yes. I did ask him and he said he was taking a walk. Yoani realized that she had not handled the situation well. She was confused, didn’t know what to think. There was a time when she had trusted Nelson above everyone else, but she could not deny that the moment she recognized him, a feeling of apprehension had engulfed her.

The driver, who by now had thrown the wig on the back seat, tapped the steering wheel several times. Yeah, this encounter is kind of suspicious. Listen, Yoani, I think you ought to write a report with all the details and give it to the boss. Let him decide what to do next.

Yes, I will. Yoani sat quietly too distraught for words.

Meanwhile, Nelson was on his way back to his office. Meeting Yoani had shaken him. At the age of twenty-five, he was an extremely savvy man. He prided himself in detecting people’s intentions by just listening carefully to the words they said and the inflection on their voices while watching gestures and eye movements. He had no doubt that Yoani was nervous and not sure what to say. He clearly remembered she was reaching for something in her large purse, something she didn’t want him to see. At the same time, seeing her again had stirred old feelings. She was his first love, way back when he was very young. He still found her very attractive but, did he still love her?

Nelson returned to his office and was back at his desk when his phone ran and again he heard the voice with the heavy accent.

Damn you, Nelson. What were you doing talking to that woman?

Wait, wait. You were there? Nelson asked in disbelief.

Of course I was there. Listen, friend, this is serious stuff, that woman is…

Nelson felt of rush of anger, and without thinking twice, exploded. Hold it. I… but his better sense took over; he didn’t need to give the man any information. Just tell me what you want.

I want to meet you. I told you that. The man sounded upset. The line went silent for a moment and when the caller spoke again he sounded calmer. Look, I’ll call you again, can’t talk now. Without waiting for a response he hung up. Instinctively Nelson looked at the caller ID, but there was no information.

Thinking about the call, Nelson became aware that he had overreacted because the tone of voice the man had used when referring to Yoani. He shouldn’t have cut the caller short; the smart thing would have been to let him talk and listen to what he had to say. Nelson realized that the way the so-called Roberto Pérez referred to Yoani meant that he knew who she was. How come? What was he going to say about her? What did the man know? All those disturbing questions were overwhelming him.

That night Nelson sat in a comfortable recliner and dialed Yoani’s number. He was anxious to talk to her and hoping to arrange a time to get together, but the call was not answered. Nelson glanced at the clock, it was getting late and he opted for leaving a message.

Yoani, this is Nelson. We need to get together; we have much to talk about. I’ll call you again tomorrow. Well, bye.

What Nelson couldn’t even imagined was that Yoani had the cell phone in her hand and with a broken heart had chosen not to answer the call. Deep in her heart she wanted to talk to him but was fearful he would ask questions that she was in no position to answer. When Yoani listened to his message and heard his voice, tears filled her eyes.

Yoani had to admit that Nelson’s presence at the Lincoln Memorial, precisely at the time when the target was meeting someone, was highly suspicious. It was too much of a coincidence; how could she ignore that and trust him? Another concern was how her boss was going to react to the report she had written about meeting Nelson