Boy Who Said No : An Escape to Freedom (9781608090815) Read online

  “I’ve given a lot of thought to Mederos,” he said. “I believe he’s still in the country, and I want your input as to the best way to get him.”

  “You don’t think he’s left already?” asked the base commander.

  “No, do you?”

  “I don’t think he’s trying to escape the country,” said Martinez. “He’s no fool. He knows the risks involved. But we need to get him back to base as soon as possible. The longer this thing drags on, the more problems we’ll have.”

  Pino looked nonplussed. He turned to Lieutenant Brown. “Your thoughts?”

  “My guess is that he got Magda pregnant during their last days together, and he is beside himself trying to figure out what to do. I think if you leave him alone, he’ll come back by himself.”

  Pino shot Brown a look of disdain. “That’s bosh! Poppycock! Mederos was a worm. He knew his girlfriend was leaving the country and he planned to join her. It was an act of treason—pure and simple. You’re a fool not to think so.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” asked Brown.

  “I’d like this to remain an internal issue for the time being. I don’t want word about his defection to get out. There’s no use causing unnecessary embarrassment for ourselves.”

  Martinez shook his head. “If you really want Mederos back, you should notify the police, the local CDRs, and the militia. Give them his description and his picture, and they’ll take it from there. You’ll have thousands of eyes looking for him. Then it’s no longer our concern.”

  “And look like fools in front of Raúl? I don’t think so,” said Pino. “I’m confident we can bring him in. Let’s do it my way for now.”

  The next order of business was to backtrack my activities. The records showed that Sophia was the the last civilian to see me. Pino went to the CDRs and obtained her address without disclosing the reason for the inquiry.

  Lieutenants Brown and Pino arrived at Sophia’s home looking very official, their army uniforms laden with ribbons and medals. The entire family was watching television when Sophia answered the door.

  “Frankie Mederos has left the army base and hasn’t been heard from since,” said Brown. “We were hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”

  Sophia took a step backward and swept her hair away from her face with her long, slender hand. “Well, I went to the base to let him know his mother was sick and his girlfriend was leaving the country,” she said. “He seemed fine at the time.”

  “Has he come to your house since you last saw him?” asked Pino.

  “No,” lied Sophia.

  “Do you have any idea where he may be?” asked Brown.

  “No, did you try his house?”

  “Not yet,” said Brown.

  Pino looked around and saw that the house had been inventoried. “Are you leaving the country?”

  “Yes,” said Sophia, without explanation.

  Pino turned his attention to Rigo, Jr. “Is this your boy?”

  Rigo looked fearful. “Yes,” said Sophia.

  “How old is he?”

  “That’s none of your business,” said Sophia.

  “Fourteen,” volunteered Rigo.

  Pino nodded and a smile of satisfaction crossed his face. “I assume you don’t want him to go into the army, am I correct?”

  Sophia sighed and nodded slightly. She didn’t want her voice to betray her emotions.

  Pino smirked and handed Sophia his card. “If you see or hear from Mederos, be sure to call me.”

  “I will,” said Sophia before quickly shutting the door.

  Pino looked at Brown as they walked away. “I don’t think she’s telling the truth,” he said. “My gut says Mederos is hiding in there. Have the men surround the house and wait to see if he leaves so we can pick him up without drawing too much attention to ourselves. If he doesn’t come out within a couple of hours, we’ll search the premises.”

  “I think you’re making a mistake,” said Brown. “That woman was telling the truth. It would be a waste of time to take this any further. You’re not going to flush Mederos out. Just let her be.”

  “I didn’t ask your opinion,” snapped Pino.

  “Then do it your way. You never listen to me anyway.”

  Pino posted soldiers at strategic spots around the property and instructed them to wait the requisite amount of time. When I didn’t appear, he ordered a thorough search of Sophia’s home. But I was not to be found. Convinced that Sophia was lying, Pino interrogated her again. Only this time, he wasn’t so nice.

  “Lady, I don’t believe a word you said about Mederos. You were the last one to see him. I know you are involved in this matter.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Let me put it this way. It is of vital importance to national security that we find Mederos.” Pino glanced at Rigo, Jr. “If this search goes on for any length of time, you might not be able to obtain your visas before your son turns fifteen.” He hesitated as if to lend weight to his statement. “There are ways to delay visas, sometimes for months, sometimes for years. And I know them all.”

  “I’m sure you do,” said Sophia. “But I have nothing to say. And I don’t appreciate you threatening us.”

  Pino straightened his shoulders. “We have no reason to believe Mederos has left Cuba. For your information, we can and will find him,” he said in a tone that made Sophia shudder. “And once he confesses, you and your entire family will have a price to pay. You will be charged with conspiracy and treason. And the consequences will not be pretty.”

  Sophia looked Pino straight in the eyes. “I told you I don’t know where he is.”

  “Think about it,” said Pino. “Talk it over with your husband and your son. If anything comes to mind, contact me at base. You know where it is.”

  “I do. Thank you for stopping by again,” said Sophia curtly.

  Without telling them what it would be used for, Pino obtained a list from the local CDRs of all the people they had on file who knew me. The list included my parents and grandparents as well as many of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. For some reason Uncle Luis and Aunt Rosa—as well as a few other relatives—were not on the list.

  With this information in hand, Pino called on my parents, greatly upsetting them by telling them that my chances for escape were nil. He outlined the penalties for harboring a fugitive or for withholding information regarding my whereabouts. He told them about conditions in Cuban jails—of cement beds, of roach-infested food, of cells called “drawers” where women lived in constant darkness and were raped and beaten by wardens.

  But my parents were brave. They said they had no idea where I was or how I could be reached. They insisted they had not heard from me. They promised to call the base if they did.

  Pino received the same response from my other relatives. His men ransacked the home of my grandfather, but Abuelo claimed total ignorance of my intentions or whereabouts. No matter what they did to him, I knew Abuelo would never betray me.

  He also went to the houses of my cousins Gilbert, Tato, and Pipi and talked to several of my parents’ siblings—to no avail. Having exhausted all his leads, Pino had soldiers disguise themselves as candy vendors in Guanabacoa to see if they could overhear any conversations that might lead to my apprehension.

  The lieutenant had come to a dead end in his search when he came across one of my relatives at a chance meeting of the high army command in Havana. The man was an ardent communist who had fought the Americans during the Bay of Pigs.

  Pino informed him about my disappearance and gave him the list of names supplied by the CDRs. My cousin checked the list and provided Pino with additional information, including the names and address of my Aunt Rosa and Uncle Luis.

  When I woke up the next morning, my uncle informed me of the bad news over coffee.

  “Frankie, Cuni told me the army’s been looking for you at the homes of your relatives. They’ve ransacked fifteen houses
so far.”

  “Jesus! Did anyone say anything?”

  “Not that I know of, but Cuni believes it’s no longer safe for you to stay here. They are on your trail, and it won’t be long before they come here to find you.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, trying to tame my uncle’s fears. “I’ve thought about what to do if it came to this.”

  “What?”

  Luis was biting his lower lip and twisting his wedding band on his finger. I felt sorry to be such a burden on him and his family.

  “I’ll hide in the outhouse.”

  My uncle’s eyes grew wide. “Christ, Frankie, the stench in there is unbearable.”

  “It’s my only option.”

  “That’s hardly a plan. They’re likely to look there, too.” My uncle began blinking rapidly.

  I chortled. “They won’t look where I’ll be hiding.”

  My uncle wrinkled his nose. “You mean—?”

  “I’ll stand on the ledge inside the outhouse for as long as I think it’s safe. But if I hear the soldiers coming, I’ll hide in the hole.”

  “Christ almighty,” said Luis. He bunched his shoulders and shivered. “You’re one crazy hombre!”

  “I’ve done more difficult things. How bad could it be?”

  I spent the next three days in the outhouse, standing on a foot-wide ledge. There was no ventilation and no way to avoid the stink. It was not something you got used to. Rats scampered around my feet, nibbled at the toes of my shoes and scratched my legs, causing them to bleed. The silence was broken by the buzz of a legion of horseflies that bit my arms, legs, and face. The only good thing was that I didn’t have to leave my hiding place to use the bathroom.

  I left the outhouse late at night to eat some dinner and to get much-needed fresh air. Not knowing when the soldiers would arrive, I no longer slept on the sofa—it was far too dangerous.

  Under the cover of darkness, I stretched out to try to get some rest in front of the outhouse. I slept against the outhouse door, leaving it open so I could quickly jump inside if I heard anyone approach. I hardly slept for three nights.

  Late in the morning of my fourth day in the outhouse, I heard a big commotion outside. I could tell from the voices that at least half a dozen soldiers had arrived.

  Recognizing Pino’s voice, I lifted the outhouse seat and lowered myself into the hole. I sank into the muck, making sure to keep my eyes closed until I was submerged up to my shoulders. I was afraid of getting something in my eyes and being unable to remove it.

  I moved my body to the right and positioned my head far enough from the hole to not be seen. I thought about Abuelo’s advice about always doing more than your best when it comes to matters of love. I smiled, knowing I was doing more than my best.

  The soldiers entered my uncle’s house from both the front and the back doors and then stood at attention while Pino approached Rosa. She had just finished doing the dishes and was scouring the kitchen sink. Unnerved at the sight of the soldiers, she tried to remain calm.

  Pino walked toward her, withdrew a picture of me from his chest pocket, and held it up for her to see. “This man is a fugitive from justice. Have you seen him?”

  Rosa took the picture from Pino, examined it, and handed it back. Her neck had broken out in a fine pink rash. “He’s my nephew, but I haven’t seen him for quite a while,” she lied.

  Pino’s eyes grew flinty. “Mederos has defected from the army. Harboring a fugitive is punishable by death. Are you aware of this penalty?”

  Rosa nodded yes.

  “I will ask you again. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?” Rosa took a sharp intake of breath. This was the most difficult decision she had ever faced—whether to protect me or to save herself from prosecution. She certainly didn’t want to die in a Cuban prison. She had heard what went on there—fingernails ripped out, eyes burned with cigarette butts, years of solitary confinement. She thought about the torture. She thought about the pain. She thought about how her husband and daughters would cope without her.

  Then she thought about what Fidel had done to the Cuban people. And what she wanted for her children. She hesitated for a moment and said, “I haven’t seen Frankie for a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “Months.”

  Pino put my picture back in his pocket and ordered his men to search the house from top to bottom.

  The soldiers started ransacking her home, upending the sofa, looking in the closets and under the beds. They were searching for me or for any evidence that I had been there. But all I had were the clothes on my back. I had left no incriminating evidence.

  The soldiers started pulling out Rosa’s dresser drawers, dumping her underwear and nightgowns onto the floor. My aunt protested vehemently, scolding them for touching her private garments. She grabbed her delicate things off the floor and pulled them to her bosom before demanding that the soldiers leave her house.

  Pino was having none of it. He ordered the soldiers outside to search the backyard and the outhouse, saying he was sure I was in it.

  Two soldiers started walking toward the outhouse, grumbling to each other as they approached. My heart beat a staccato rhythm. They pulled on the old wooden door. It opened slowly, reluctantly, creaking on its rusty hinges.

  “Phew!” said one of the soldiers. “It smells god-awful in here.” The soldier sneezed and the door banged shut.

  “You didn’t even look,” a second voice scolded.

  “It smells so bad it could make you gag,” said the first soldier. “I’m not looking again. If you want to be a hero, be my guest.”

  The second soldier groused a bit and opened the door a little farther. Two rats ran out of the outhouse and the soldier let out a yelp. Another rat scurried down the hole and jumped on my shoulder. My nerves were so raw it was all I could do not to scream.

  “Christ, you’re right,” said the soldier. “That place should’ve been knocked down years ago. There’s nothing in there but spiders and rats.”

  The door banged shut again, and I heard Pino’s voice in the distance. “Any luck, men?”

  “No one out here.”

  “All right,” said Pino. His voice leaked grave disappointment. I smiled slightly. “We’ve got work to do. Let’s move on out.”

  CHAPTER 33

  It had been more than a month since I’d left the base. Informing the CDRs, the police, and the militia about my disappearance was becoming increasingly problematic for Pino, since it would raise difficult questions about the timing of my escape. The authorities would ask why they had not been informed immediately regarding the situation—and Pino had no good answer.

  So Pino kept the search an internal matter, while Brown and Martinez continued to urge him to involve the CDRs, the police, and the local militias.

  “If you don’t do that, you’ll never find him,” warned Brown.

  “How so?”

  “I trained the man. He’s the best I’ve ever seen. He’s slippery as soapsuds. He knows every place to hide in the area, both in Cojimar and Guanabacoa. And don’t forget, he stayed in the mountains three different times in his life. He even knows hiding places there. Mark my word, you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

  Pino shot Brown a withering glance. He had given the matter much thought in the previous weeks. Those who saw him would’ve thought he was brooding. No longer able to tolerate the criticism, he decided to take a new approach to the problem. He said something totally unexpected.

  “You have it wrong, Lieutenant Brown. We aren’t going to find Mederos. You are.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple,” said Pino. “I want you to mobilize the entire Elite Counterattack Force to find Mederos. You taught him. No one is better prepared to find him than you. I want the force to make it their mission to bring the worm in.”

  Brown was flabbergasted. Involving the entire force in such a s
earch was unheard of, unprecedented.

  “The force is here to protect the citizens against attack,” said Brown. “We can’t mobilize the entire force just to go after one man.”

  “We can and we will,” retorted Pino.

  “On whose authority?”

  “On my authority. This is an emergency situation. A political matter. A matter of national security. You are now under my command, Lieutenant Brown. You now report to me.”

  Brown was horrified. It was impossible for him to believe that anyone—including myself—could escape the concerted efforts of the special forces. He was torn between his concern for me and his need to perform his duty. Making it worse, he remembered Pino’s words, “He may be smarter than one of us, but he is not smarter than all of us.”

  “Who do you want me to include?” asked Brown.

  “Everyone except the older men who know Mederos and might be loyal to him,” said Pino. “But include Manny and Lazo. They know best how he thinks, and you may be able to pressure them into assistance. Mobilize the infantry, the men from the 57-millimeter cannons, and all the new recruits. That’s an order.”

  Brown snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”

  Pino thought for a moment, smugness filling his voice, “Exactly how many men is that?”

  “Around three hundred,” replied Brown.

  A faint smiled danced on Pino’s lips. “That ought to do it.”

  Christmas Day dawned crisp and clear with a hint of spring in the air. In Cuba the birth of Christ was traditionally a two-day celebration filled with the camaraderie of family and friends. The exchange of gifts occurred on January sixth—the Feast of the Epiphany—so December twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth were set aside for worship, socialization, and fun.

  Every year my aunt and uncle held an open house for family, friends, neighbors, and anyone else who cared to drop by. My aunt decorated her home with greenery and hibiscus blooms, festooned the house with lights, and hung a wreath of silver bells on the front door.

  Rosa’s table creaked under the weight of food brought by friends and neighbors—roasted pig and fruits like mangoes, mamey, and papayas. The aroma of moros y cristianos, a rice and beans dish, filled the air. Rosa spent days before Christmas preparing desserts, and I looked forward to eating my favorite, buñuelos—fried sweet dough with powdered sugar and syrup.