Finding Rafael

By Richard S. Hillman

Professor Manny Vidal learns that his missing cousin Rafael is alive and in grave danger. He and black-op contractor Jack Case search for Rafael on the Caribbean island of Guarida, where Rafael fought with the Freedom Front before it was defeated.

Rafael and his pregnant wife hide on a deserted barrier island off the coast of Guarida and attempt to flee to the United States. The police murder his wife and newborn child and imprison Rafael. He becomes an unintended revolutionary when a newly-formed rebel group liberates him from Guarida’s most dreaded jail. Then the police capture him again and a drug cartel seizes him from the jail, demands a ransom, and secretly moves him through Guarida’s sordid underworld and the sleazy urban jungles of Caracas and Maracaibo.

The cartel kills Jack Case. Manny follows Rafael’s trail with an ex-Miss Venezuela, who is active in the political opposition. When they are finally reunited, both Manny and Rafael face life-altering decisions. A Florida shrink treats Rafael as he struggles to maintain his sanity. The CIA offers Manny a position in covert intelligence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781621834939

Richard S. Hillman

Richard S. Hillman has traveled around the world on the Semester-at-Sea faculty, served as a Fulbright Scholar in Venezuela, participated in a People-to-People delegation in Cuba, and consulted at the U.S. State Department. An avid reader, his lifelong love of books has resulted in a voluminous personal library and inspiration to write. He has published non-fiction works, but finds crafting a novel more creative. Born in New York City, he has lived in Long Island, Maine, Scotland, Spain, Brazil, and Venezuela. He and his Jamaican wife reside in Florida.

Book preview

Part One: Manny

Chapter One

Professor Emmanuel Manny White Vidal narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he scrutinized a shadowy video that revealed a policeman, or perhaps it was a soldier, shoving a bloodied woman and a hysterical infant off the end of a pier. Forced to watch the woman and child disappear beneath murky waters, a man in the background writhed and thrashed, struggling to break free from the grips of two other officers, if that’s what they were. The dead bodies floated to the surface as the scene faded into the distance.

Jesus Christ, Adam, Manny uttered, why are you showing me this? He whirled away from the monitor and jumped to his feet. The veins in his temples felt ready to explode, and he would’ve vomited had his stomach not been empty.

It was captured on a sailor’s smartphone as he was shipping out of Guarida Municipal Marina, Assistant Secretary of State, Adam Stark, said. Damned thing’s going viral on social media.

I heard about this on Facebook. I purposely didn’t watch it.

Everyone else has. Let me focus in on a frame and clear it up. I have a feeling you’ll want to see this. Watch closely.

Stark reversed the video, froze a frame of the man’s face, and telescoped in, enhancing the image. Now, Manny could recognize the distorted face with eyes appearing to burst out of their sockets and tears streaming down his cheeks. Enlarged on the screen, the man’s rugged features gave him away.

My God. It looks like . . . Manny could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Sit down, Manny, Stark said with a wave of his hand. Look at it carefully. I just want you to confirm his identity. Is that your cousin? If it is, we’ll take care of this.

Manny felt as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He collapsed into a chair facing the Assistant Secretary’s desk, with his back to the video screen. Taken aback, Manny massaged his temples and pieced things together. Liliana must’ve given birth while in hiding, he thought. He knew Stark’s position contravened U.S. policy not to intervene in individual cases. Did he have an ulterior motive?

He took a deep breath and said, It’s Rafael.

Stark stared at Manny as if he was attempting to penetrate his thoughts. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses, blew on the lenses, and wiped them with a tissue. As he replaced his glasses, he looked through the window. The sunshine reflected some grime on the glass. He mumbled something about calling the cleaning crew, then turned back to Manny.

I’ll be straight with you. We have reason to believe they’re holding him in the Retén—their main jail, and there are congressmen who want to exploit this, want to embarrass the administration. They like to pontificate about how the United States of America always upholds human rights—

Slamming his fist on the armrest of his wooden chair, Manny glared at Stark. He had a strong premonition that Stark had no concrete plan to address this issue. What will—?

Don’t worry. We’re formulating a response. It will demonstrate, in no uncertain terms, the administration’s resolve to address human rights abuses anywhere in the world.

And if it hadn’t gone viral?

The video appeared on YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, and global news networks. Already, there were hundreds of thousands of likes, shares, and comments that attributed these atrocities to the Guaridan government provoking widespread indignation throughout the world. Human Rights Watch, the United Nations, among other international organizations, expressed outrage at the Roldano regime. They filed official protests.

Democrats as well as Republicans called for his removal from power in a rare demonstration of bipartisanship. The State Department issued diplomatically ambiguous statements of condemnation, while supporting the democratically-elected government of oil-producing Guarida, a long-time ally and trading partner of the United States. The Sánchez Brigade for the Liberation of Guarida (SBLG) used the video to justify a revolution.

President Ricardo Roldano stated on CNN, "Rafael Vidal is an enemy of the state, a revolutionary. If any Security Police who apprehended this criminal acted improperly in this isolated incident, those responsible will be brought to justice." He promised an investigation.

All the disingenuous bullshit and duplicitous doubletalk made Manny want to puke. Hopefully, someone is planning something behind the scenes, he thought. He drew in dry air— Stark ran his air conditioner no matter what the temperature, said he liked clean air—and tried to bounce back. There had to be something he could do.

It’s difficult when oil is involved. Stark paused, adjusted his glasses. You know all about that, professor. You’re an expert. This administration—

What are you going to do?

Just between you and me . . . can I be assured you’ll keep this secret?

Manny nodded.

All right. I’m thinking an independent contractor not directly involved with the U.S. government might be useful in this situation.

You have someone in mind?

Again, just between us, Jack Case might be able to get your cousin out, but I don’t know if he’s available.

If he goes, I’m going in with him.

"No, you’re not. Too dangerous. There’s nothing you can do. You’re not trained for this sort of thing. Jack is."

I’ve got connections in Guarida.

You’re known there. We can’t protect you. Why the hell do you want to get involved, anyway?

It’s personal. The last time I was there, Manny thought, I tried to support Sánchez’s reforms, and what did that get? The damn demagogue spewed hyperbole, accused me of espionage, tortured and jailed me. The hypocrite. Finally got out when Roldano took over. I’ll stay undercover.

Well, on a personal level, Manny, if you don’t mind me saying so, it would seem that you’re grasping for something.

What are you saying, Adam? Manny coughed, his throat raspy from the lack of humidity in the air.

Last time you were down there ended in a disaster, almost killed you. But you were damned lucky. You did take a stand, though. A definitive stand. I think you’re trying to convince yourself that you can make a difference. I believe you’re seeking meaning in all this. Another big adventure, huh?

Rafael’s in trouble. He’d save me if the situation were reversed.

Pretty arrogant to think you can pull him out single-handedly. You have a plan? He pointed to the water cooler in the corner of his office.

Thanks. Manny walked over to the cooler, slid down a paper cup from the holder on the side, and filled it while watching a bubble rise to the top of the glass container. He took a sip. Do I have a plan? He drained the cup, crushed it into a ball, and dumped it into Stark’s paper basket. I guess I’d have to sneak in under their radar. I’ll go with Case. We’ll use our contacts. I’m assuming he has some. I’ve got Ray. He’ll hide me. Come on. I know people think I’m arrogant, but— I’m really driven by self-doubt, he thought. No need for a protracted debate with Stark. He’d figure something out.

What about Dee? NYU? Just going to disappear for a while? Haven’t you learned anything from your previous escapade?

I need to believe in something, Adam. Escapade? Did he say escapade? Of course, there’s a lot at risk, but I’ve got to play this out.

This isn’t a Shakespearean theater we’re talking about here!

Put me in touch with Case, okay? That’s all I ask. Shakespearean theater?

This is bullshit and you know it. Simply put, you’d be putting your life on the line. The Department of State will not authorize an operation of this nature. Stark paused and appeared to be deep in thought. He adjusted his glasses, then continued. However, you’re both private citizens . . . Stark spun his chair toward the window and gazed through. Then he swiveled back and looked at Manny as if waiting for him to respond.

Stark did seem to have an ulterior motive, but Manny was more interested in his own agenda.

Don’t worry about me, Adam. You know what I’ve been through. An escapade, Stark had said. Manny shuddered. He resented the term. No. It was a harrowing ordeal, a trial by fire, not some kind of extravaganza.

I’m worried, my friend. You were extremely lucky last time you went down there.

Manny was worried as well. Did he really want to risk his current situation? He was well-positioned at NYU, had returned from Guarida relatively unscathed, although the waterboarding damaged his left eye, and had managed to hold together his relationship with Dee despite his indiscretions. Yet he seemed to be falling once again into the maelstrom, as if drawn by forces he didn’t understand.

The currents are building, he thought. He knew he needed to sort things out, yet time was of the essence. How long will they keep Rafael alive? Maybe I am like Hamlet, he thought. But what’s happening isn’t theater.

***

Traffic came to a standstill. Horns blasted. The air stunk of exhaust fumes. As vehicles inched forward, Manny weaved his Raleigh 21-speed between a Penske truck and a Yellow cab. He hopped the curb and pedaled down the sidewalk on MacDougal Street.

Indirect sunlight lit up the quaint façades on a row of brownstones. Yellowing leaves sparkled on spindly trees lining the street. Indian summer in Greenwich Village seemed a bit surreal.

He coasted to a stop, jumped off his bike, and chained it to the railing on his porch. Unhooking the oversized Prince tennis bag from his shoulders, he bounded up the steps and scooped up the New York Times that was perched at Dee’s feet.

She was waiting for him, arms folded across her chest. He could feel her eyes scrutinizing him. You’re going to get yourself killed.

Adam Stark’s similar remark flashed in his mind. Then he smiled and gave Dee a peck on her cheek. More of a chance crashing in a taxi, you know? New York cabbies—

You’re delusional. How was your match? she asked as he walked through the front door. She followed him in.

He flipped the paper onto the bar in their kitchenette and carefully placed his tennis gear in the closet.

Manny knew Dee would’ve preferred if he spent less time on the courts. He’d tried to explain that tennis was like meditation, allowing respite from more demanding issues, like whether he’d accompany Jack Case to Guarida. He wasn’t sure about what to do even as he felt himself being sucked into a stream of events and forces that pulled like a tornado toward an inevitable, yet unknown ending. Maybe I am delusional, he thought.

My match? He refocused. Good. We split, and I took the third. All we could get in. You can only stay on for an hour and a half. Playing under the Williamsburg Bridge isn’t like the Campo Alegre Tennis Club, but I enjoy the hardcourts, and players creep out of the pavement in the Big Apple.

As soon as Dee heard Manny utter the words Campo Alegre, a worried expression distorted her face. The reference sent shudders down her spine. He was thinking about Guarida again. Manny knew she feared he’d return to that horrible place.

"Professor—Emmanuel—White—Vidal! You’re not going back to Campo Alegre . . . not to Guarida . . . for tennis or for anything else!"

Dee addressed him with mock formality when she was upset. She hated Guarida, and he knew why. The country—or really, what’d happened there—almost tore them apart. He knew she’d try to dissuade him.

Yet thoughts about his cousin frequently floated through his memory. Some great times together when we were kids. Camping in the hills, snorkeling out on the reef. Guarida seemed more hospitable back then. He was daydreaming. Rafael is alive. He felt it as surely as he knew the sun would rise the next morning. Stark knows. He knit his brow and took a deep breath, fantasized a scenario in which he and Case extricated Rafael from the throes of disaster.

Hey, snap out of it. Want some lunch? Dee offered.

Manny turned abruptly toward Dee. Sorry. What were you saying?

Are you hungry?

Yeah, I’ll shower, and then let’s go out.

We don’t have to.

There were plenty of bistros in Greenwich Village, but Manny knew it’d make Dee happy to return to The Excelsior, where he’d asked her to marry him when he returned from Guarida almost a year ago.

He ruminated about their wedding near the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park. It took place six months after his proposal. It was a bright day. The sun shone almost as intense as in the islands. He wished his parents could’ve attended. Their untimely deaths in a car accident still plagued him.

Dee’s parents flew up from Texas, and a few close friends were present for the civil ceremony as well as the reception at the Top of the Sixes that evening.

Manny didn’t invite Dean Rhoades, who’d unsuccessfully opposed his tenure at NYU and made advances on Dee while he was away. Ray, his tennis partner and son of the Guaridan president who’d declared him persona non grata, said he’d fly up, but at the last minute, had to attend to the Roldano businesses on the island.

It would’ve been wonderful if Rafael could’ve been there, Manny thought.

Dee was a beautiful bride. Her long, blond hair fell onto bare shoulders above a simple pastel blue dress that matched her eyes. She beamed contentment. Everyone could see they were in love. He’d learned the hard way how much he needed her. What did you say?

Look at me, Manny. I said we don’t have to go out. I can whip up something here.

Nah, let’s go over to our little Jamaican restaurant on Waverly Place.

The Excelsior? Fine. What’s the occasion?

Nothing special, Dee. Just want to talk.

The week before he proposed to Dee, Manny received the tenure letter that allowed him to continue teaching Latin American and Caribbean Politics at NYU. His exposé of American involvement in the assassination attempt against Sánchez, Operation Empty Nest, had gone into a second printing and was being translated. The Spanish version sold almost as many copies as the English. He was in demand on the lecture circuit and he’d been invited to several State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research meetings in Washington.

The INR meetings offered stimulating discussions, and he spoke his mind. But until he viewed the video, there was no way he would’ve gone back to Guarida, despite Stark’s frequent innuendos that he should return to UG one of these days. After seeing the freeze frame on that ghastly clip, however, his gut told him it was just a matter of time. He’d seek proof of life for Rafael and insist that Stark connect him with Jack Case.

Of course, he’d discuss with Dee the possibility of another trip there; see how bad her reaction would be. To smooth it over, he’d purchased a heart-shaped, gold pendant that was inscribed, Yours forever, Manny. Despite the ostensible marital bliss, he knew Dee still harbored insecurity deriving from his unfaithful tryst in Guarida. And she was well-aware of the perilous situation down there. He’d have to convince her and himself at the same time that he was doing the right thing.

***

The aroma of spices, coffee, and rum permeated the restaurant. Wood carvings adorned the walls along with a flag displaying the Jamaican motto, Out of many, one people. They sipped colorful rum punches adorned with fruits and ordered spicy jerk chicken with rice and peas. Callaloo was served as a side, and dessert was fried plantain. After the meal, they drank pungent cups of Blue Mountain.

Then Manny pulled from his pocket a small box containing the pendant. This is for you, Dee. He gazed at her, attempting to read her body language.

She swept back her blonde mane, and her face looked healthy without cosmetics. She was sporting one of her floral dresses. She opened the box and smiled. Her face flushed. She leaned across the small table, kissed Manny, and then sat back. I hope you mean it.

What do you think? He gazed into her eyes, feeling sad and a bit peeved that she’d still raise the question.

I think you feel guilty about what happened. Her eyes moistened.

He looked down and drained his coffee cup. Then he looked up and said, It was before we were married, Dee. I’ve learned my lesson. Come on now.

Just don’t forget it, she said.

I thought we were beyond all that. His face contrite, he shook his head. That was the past. We’ve got so much to live for.

I love you, but it’s hard sometimes. She swept her hair over her shoulders in a nervous reflex.

Please don’t hold it over me. We’ll never be truly happy that way. You can trust me now. He looked back at her with a hopeful smile.

She took his hand in hers. I know. It’s just that sometimes it all comes back. I’m trying. It takes time, I suppose.

I’m sure we can put it behind us. I love you. Just accept that and watch how I behave . . . how I have behaved. Do you like the heart?

Of course, Manny, and I do love you. Let’s not argue. She leaned toward him, and they kissed.

Then Manny eased away and said, No arguing. He smiled. You’re beautiful, he whispered. Then he helped clasp the thin gold chain around her neck.

The heart fell into place on her chest. They sat for a few minutes. The waiter sauntered over and stood there for a moment with a smile on his face. Then he said, "Anyting else, mon?"

We’re all set, Manny said, smiling. The sing-song patois reminded him of the pleasant atmosphere of island life.

"Everyting aaright?"

Yeah, mon, Manny said.

"No prob-lem."

Manny paid the bill, left a large gratuity, and smiled at the waiter. The Jamaican showed large white teeth and shook back dreads that reached his waist.

"Irie," the waiter said.

Manny wondered if the laid-back islander style was merely a performance. Had this Rastaman, like so many immigrants, become jaded by the venality of American life? The pressures to assimilate and compete in the tough workplace had converted many a gentle soul into aggressive seekers of the American Dream. Yet their Caribbean essence always seemed to remain.

Manny smiled at Dee. She smiled back, looking content.

Listen, honey, I think I’m going to have to go back to Guarida for a little while . . . to look for Rafael. What do you think?

Her smile disappeared. "You know what I think, Manny. I’m as troubled by Rafael’s disappearance as you are, and I understand what you’re going through. I really do. But you don’t have to go back. You wouldn’t be able to save him even if you could find him. He might not even be alive. Please—" She stopped mid-sentence as if she were fighting a lost cause.

Okay, I’ll think about it, Manny said. I respect your opinion, Dee.

If you really respected my opinion . . . damnit, I’m not sure you do . . . you wouldn’t be running off again. Dee slammed her hand on the table.

The patrons at nearby tables were watching.

I’ll find out more information. Don’t worry about it.

You’re trying to con me into saying yes. Buying me with food and a trinket, huh?

No, that’s not it, Dee. Really. I—

Just don’t go.

I’ll give it more thought.

You better.

Yeah. Guess we should get back to the apartment. I’ve got some notes I have to put together for class tomorrow.

Torn between his loyalty to Dee and the safety of their home on one hand and the agonizing decision to search for Rafael in Guarida on the other hand, Manny felt desperate and paralyzed.

How can I not do something after seeing that damn video, he thought. To go or not to go? That’s the question.

Chapter Two

One week after their lunch at the Excelsior, Manny returned to Washington. Despite Dee’s admonitions, he had to at least feel out Stark about his predicament. Were there other options?

He watched Stark gaze out his office window, as was his custom when contemplating difficult issues. People were strolling on the Mall’s walkways surrounded by cherry trees that had long since lost their blossoms. The air conditioner hummed above the ubiquitous whining of sirens in the background, giving the impression that something dramatic was always about to happen in the nation’s capital. What was Stark thinking?

Stark turned away from the window and looked at Manny. One thing I want to make very clear, he said, is that this time we’re not sending you back to Guarida. Not under these conditions. We believe your cousin is in jail, that rotten Retén, for crying out loud.

"I can’t let Rafael rot in that pathetic dungeon they call a jail. I know what it’s like in there. We need to do something, Adam. I’ve got to do something."

Stark removed his glasses. I argued against the general U.S. policy regarding individual cases, attempted to put something in motion . . . get him out of the country, he said, although his motivation was more political than moral.

Those holier-than-thou congressional wonks wouldn’t use that video against any administration in which they served, even if it meant going outside of channels.

Two of my colleagues—one is in our Citizenship and Immigration Services at the Bureau of Consular Affairs, and the other is with the Department of Homeland Security’s Refugee, Asylum, and International Operations Directorate—tried to set up an escape. So I do feel a sense of responsibility. We’re working on it. Stark cleaned his lenses with a handkerchief, then put his glasses back on. But State will not endorse—

I’ve got to get down there. Ray will help. He’ll convince his father to let me take Rafael out of Guarida.

You must be dreaming. You’re not exactly welcomed there. And it’s Guerrero who’s running the Security Police, not Roldano.

Ricardo’s the president, though.

Look, Manny. This is a very dangerous situation. We cannot allow this sort of thing. How the hell would you get in, anyway?

I’ll think of something. All I’m asking for is an armed bodyguard—someone to accompany me. Why not Jack Case? You mentioned him the last time I was here.

Listen, Stark shot Manny a conspiratorial glance, "if someone like Case were to team up with you, I wouldn’t know about it. We need to maintain plausible, he waved two fingers on each hand as if to make quotation marks in the air, deniability. Case doesn’t work for us, you know. Stark smiled, adjusted his glasses, and then stared at Manny. This is how it would have to play out, Stark said as if he were in a confessional. He looked through the window, and with his back to Manny, said, So let’s say he could get you in, and let’s say somehow you got your cousin. All three of you would have to get out on your own."

"Is that a