Chapter 27: Revelations

November 24, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“I’m not quite sure what to do with that information,” I replied. “How confident are you?”

“Very. And I agree with you. It’s a tough predicament.”

“Have you spoken to Katya or Patrick?”

“No. I received the information this morning. Is there anything you want me to do?”

“No, not at this point. I need to talk to Patrick and someone here before I decide what to do.”

“Call anytime, Steve.”

“Thanks, Ted.”

I pushed the button to disconnect the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. I really didn’t know what to do with the information, so I simply put the car in gear, got back on the Dan Ryan and headed home. When I arrived, I greeted Kara, but didn’t bother Jessica who was sleeping. After saying ‘hello’ to the kids, I asked Elyse to join me in my study, but Kara stopped me.

“There’s a card from Sakurako for you,” she said, handing me the pink envelope with a cherry blossom on it. I quickly, but carefully opened it. I pulled out the card and read her message.

“She had a baby boy last week,” I said. “His name is Hiro, after his great-grandfather. I need to send her a gift. But I’ll worry about that after I speak to Elyse.”

I kissed Kara, then went with Elyse to my study.

“Ted Farley called,” I said once I’d shut the door and turned on the white noise generator.

“Am I going to be happy at the end of this talk?”

“Happy? No. Confused? Probably. According to Ted, the two guys who ransacked the place are Chicago Police recruits.”

“What the fuck?!” Elyse gasped. “How did he find out?”

“He and an expert played the video in super-slow motion, basically a frame at a time, and saw a small CPD pin on one of the jackets. It’s hard to make out, but they enhanced the video. Once they did that, it was a matter of knowing they were young and simply staking out the Police Academy. He saw the same jacket with the same pin, and the build matched. So did the guy walking with the first guy. Jacket and build match.”

“So the cops did it?”

“Or someone hired them. The Outfit? Scuderi? A union? A competitor? Some lawyer? Someone else?”

“So now what?”

“A very good question. I suppose we could take it to the FBI, but then what?”

“You’re not actually thinking of doing nothing, are you?” Elyse asked, incredulous.

“I’m not ruling out ANY response, including doing nothing. So far, it’s one incident. Nothing has happened since, and there haven’t been any threats or anything like that. We know they didn’t take anything and, honestly, what information could they have gleaned?”

“A customer list?”

“Sure, but to what end? Heck, Cindi has our biggest customers listed in her marketing collateral and we feature one or two in our newsletters she publishes. Not to mention that the membership list of the user group is public.”

“So what were they looking for?”

“When I thought it was Anthony and Connie, evidence that I took their money. Now? No clue.”

“In some ways, that’s more frightening.”

“I agree. It’s a question of what suits OUR needs. Obviously, I could go to the FBI, show them what we found, and see what they propose. The problem is that it’s a state crime, and that means the CPD would do the investigation. We already know they’re corrupt, and not just from our own experience. You’ve read all the stuff in the papers.”

“So we wait?”

“I’ll talk to Patrick and Katya on Monday, but I think so. With the beefed-up security, we’ll know right away.”

“What about Alarm Detection?”

“I had a long talk with them and I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. And with the new system, attempting to override the system will alert their monitoring center, as will signing into the administrative console. Eve, Kimmy, you, or I will get a call whenever that happens to confirm we’re making the change.”

“Did you fill Eve in?”

“Not about what I found out today. Otherwise, she knows as much as I can safely tell her.”

Which was an obfuscation, since she knew as much as Elyse did, and in some ways, more.

“Eve is much more suited to this kind of thing than Michelle would have been.”

“True,” I agreed.

Her eyes narrowed, “And you better have only been shooting WITH Eve this morning, not IN Eve!”

“Elyse...” I sighed.

“Just don’t be dumb, Steve.”

“Why change what has been a successful strategy?” I smirked.

“Sadly, there is some truth to that,” Elyse laughed. “But if you feel the need to fuck someone from work, I damned well better be the one you come to!”

“We haven’t talked that through. We need to.”

“I know,” she said. “And today is not the day for that.”

“You’re OK with playing a waiting game?”

“About us or about the break-in?” she smirked.

“Us!” I replied with a smirk of my own.

“Hah! I think you’re right. Maybe you should talk to Pete?”

“If I do, he’ll HAVE to act on it. I can’t put him in that kind of position.”

“Shit. So, it’s the FBI, who can’t really do anything unless there’s some federal tie, or we wait.”

“I suppose I could try to talk to Ally’s husband, but I’m not exactly sure.”

“Exactly. So I say we wait. Let’s go back to our family. Our guests will be here in less than an hour.”

Two hours later, our extended family, which included my sister, Ed, and David; Jon and Amanda; the Jaegers; the Quinns; Samantha and Brian; Gina and Bo; Penny, Amber, and Andy; the Tarrance family, and my parents, was feasting on Thanksgiving leftovers, but more importantly, sampling the wonderful meat pies Jon had prepared.

I contemplated speaking to my dad about the break-in, but I was concerned he might insist I report it to someone, rather than keeping it quiet until either someone showed their hand, OR I could use it as leverage. If those two punks made the force, I’d actually own them. And that might come in handy some day.

On the other hand, it WAS 1995. And that meant I could ask my dad about what happened after the Navy. Unfortunately, there was no way I could spirit him away from the grandkids, and my questions would have to wait at least another day. Instead, I spent time with my family and friends, enjoying the food and the company.

November 25, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

On Saturday morning, Jessica joined Kara and me in bed after breakfast. She’d be going to sleep right after karate, and after breakfast was one of the few times we could be together as a trio due to her schedule. We’d spent an hour making love to each other, and after a quick shower and a change of sheets, had climbed back into bed.

“I need to put in my final vacation request on Monday, Tiger. Any changes to the Disney plan?”

“No. We’re pretty much locked-in. Trying to change dates at this point would be nearly impossible because things are booked solid so far in advance.”

“OK. I’ll confirm those dates on my request, along with the dates for our trip to Vermont.”

“Did you hear from Katy after she spoke to Birgit?” Kara asked.

“Yes. Katy, Amy, and Davey are doing wonderfully as a family. I was very happy they managed to get a newborn, and managed to navigate adoption as a lesbian couple. The young woman who gave up the baby didn’t have any problems with the adoption.”

“They met her?”

“The girl, who was fifteen, insisted on meeting the new parents. But she won’t have any contact with them now that the adoption is complete.”

“He’s going to have a very doting ‘cousin’,” Jessica observed.

“Birgit was ready to get on a plane as soon as she hung up the phone. She insisted I call Samantha and borrow the Gulfstream so she could go visit.”

“And you denied your daughter?” Jessica teased. “Wow!”

“There are some things even my Pumpkin can’t get me to do, much to her chagrin. And we need to get out of bed, because I have to open the dojo this morning because Sensei Jim is at the tournament coaching Marcia.”

“Did you hear how she did yesterday?”

“No. But I’m sure she won her matches or Sensei would have called to say he’d be at the dojo this morning.”

The three of us climbed out of bed, dressed for karate, then went to find Birgit. I’d heard from Melissa that Michelle had found a Shōtōkan dojo in Naperville, and was happy that she’d decided to continue with her karate training. I very much wanted to speak to her, but Jennifer had counseled patience. She was sure Michelle would call before too much time passed.

Will, Therese, and I ran the class session, and at the end, I signed up two new students - a brother and sister who were eleven and thirteen, respectively. I went over the payment plans with their dad, Rob, and made the necessary arrangements. Something he said caught my attention.

“Are you from Southern Ohio, Mr. Peters?” I asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“You said ‘please’ when you didn’t catch what I said. And as far as I know, that’s a ‘Cincinnati’ thing.”

He nodded, “I’m from Goshen. My wife is from a little town about an hour east of there. Chastity and Richie were born in Ohio. We moved here about five years ago, but I guess I haven’t completely adapted to speaking like a Chicagoan!”

“Don’t!” I warned with a laugh. “I sure haven’t. I lived in the Cincinnati area for about twelve years before coming to Chicago in 1981. I graduated from Milford. So did Kara, the blonde female black belt.”

“Small world!”

We shook hands and he and his kids left the office. I locked up the dojo, and Jessica, Kara, Birgit, and I started home.

“New recruits?” Jessica asked.

“Yes. All signed up. They were at the afterschool classes earlier this week. Kara, he’s from Goshen.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“He said ‘please’ when he didn’t catch something I said.”

Kara laughed, “I think we’ve all pretty much lost that after being here for so long! But we heard it from Joyce and her kids yesterday. She seems to be doing really well.”

“She said she feels good, but she has an itch that needs serious scratching!”

Both of my wives laughed.

“You mean she wants sex?” Birgit asked in her usual silly way.

“Yes, but with her HUSBAND!”

“But she can’t because of the operation?”

“That’s right,” Jessica replied. “She has to heal before she can do that.”

“I’m glad they could make her not sick anymore!”

“Me, too, Pumpkin,” I replied. “Me, too.”

November 26, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“The hardware store in Havana was perfect cover. We could talk to the locals and nobody would get suspicious. After Castro took over, we continued feeding information back to Washington, and, once Eisenhower signed an order, to arm the counter-revolutionaries. So while we were selling nails, screws, nuts, bolts, and so on out the front door, we were supplying rifles, grenades, and mortars out the back door.”

“The Bay of Pigs?” I asked.

“That was later. In 1959, something called the Escambray Rebellion started, and we began arming them in 1960, just after the La Coubre explosion.”

“The what?” I asked.

“A French freighter which exploded in Havana harbor in March of 1960. Castro blamed us, but never produced any evidence. He compared it to the explosion of the Maine during the Spanish-American War.”

“Were we involved?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

“There were claims made by some Americans that we were, but if we were, nobody talked to me about it and I was what your friend Katya would call rezident, or ‘Chief of Station’.”

“So, a «нелегальные резиденты»,” I grinned.

My dad laughed, “Somehow I’m not surprised you know the Russian term for a rezident without legal cover! Anyway, if we DID do it, it was run as a completely black op without my knowledge. It’s possible Allen Dulles ordered it, but I think it’s much more likely the Cubans just screwed up similar to how we did at Port Chicago in ‘44.

“Anyway, as things progressed, the US ramped up trade sanctions and embargos against Cuba, which made running the store dicey. We did manage to import a decent amount of hardware from other countries, but it was much more expensive. And as Castro nationalized just about everything in sight, our supply chain became problematic. The last thing we did was provide some logistical support for the Bay of Pigs, and then when a couple of CIA operatives were captured and executed, my assistant and I fled Cuba with Castro’s men hot on our heels.”

“You were discovered?”

“Betrayed, I believe, but I can’t prove it. I suspect someone who Castro’s men had captured talked.”

“That’s when you moved to Las Vegas?”

“Los Angeles, actually. That’s where the CIA helped me get started in business, though, honestly, I didn’t really need their help because of the money your grandparents left me. I spent a lot of weekends in Vegas with my Cuban ex-patriate friends, and I met your mom about two months after I left Cuba.”

“No debriefing?”

“About two days, but there wasn’t much to say at that point. Everything had been in my reports, and I was being given a new identity. By that point, I was 44, which is a bit old for working in the field, and I couldn’t very well go into public service.”

“No, I suppose not. So that’s when you became Ray Adams?”

“It was a lot easier back then. They simply sealed my military records, issued a new birth certificate, and got me a California driver’s license. The one screw up, which you know about, was with the Social Security Administration. Somehow, internally, there is some link between my old name and my new name. I believe it’s been fixed, but ultimately, it probably doesn’t matter all that much given how much time has passed.”

“Have you ever thought of going back to your old name?”

He shook his head, “That was a different life.”

“What can I tell the kids?”

“I’d wait until they were a bit older, but honestly, you can tell them everything I’ve told you.”

“I might have to write a book,” I grinned. “Would you answer questions about the Navy, OSS, and CIA?”

“As best I’m able to, sure. Some things are still classified, and might never be released, or at least not before everyone involved is long dead.”

“And your original names?”

“Give that another ten years or so. By then, anyone who cares will be dead or so old it won’t matter.”

“How old will Castro be?”

“Around eighty, if he’s still alive. I can’t imagine I’m of much interest to them at this point.”

“You never know. Speaking of Cubans, we have a Cuban guy at the dojo. He’s around 60, and I’m pretty sure he came to the US around ‘63 or ‘64. I believe he’s even from Havana.”

“It was a city of about 1.5 million people, so the chances I even ran into him are pretty slim.”

“I assume you had Cubans working for you.”

“Of course. Both as employees and as operatives. Young men were particularly easy to recruit given the economic situation at that time. What’s his name?”

“Felipe Rodriguez.”

My dad arched an eyebrow, “A fairly common name, but I did have a kid who had been through basic training under Batista who ran errands for me.”

“Errands?” I asked with a smirk.

“Yes, those kind, too. I’d be surprised if it’s the same guy. We heard they rounded up anyone who worked for us. Most of them got jail time. Some were shot, but then again, Castro had a lot of people shot for being pro-US.”

“Well, let’s just say I’m glad YOU weren’t one of those. Would you like to meet Felipe? He’ll be at the dojo tomorrow evening.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, but then again, I’m not sure what it could hurt these days. If he survived, it would make me happy.”

“It sure would be a hell of a coincidence,” I said. “You know our New York employee’s dad was a retired naval officer from Spain who was imprisoned by Castro for openly supporting Batista, right?”

“I remember you telling me that. He’d retired, married a Cuban woman, and got them out of the country before he was arrested. Abel took his mother’s name, though, right?”

“Yes - Durañona, but they Americanized it without the tilde. Before I forget, is there any chance of getting your medals and awards from the Navy?”

“Probably, at some point. Why?”

“I honestly think someone who earned the Navy Cross and two Purple Hearts ought to display them.”

He smiled, “Like everyone else, I was just doing my duty to my country. You know your friend Katya only displays her ‘Hero of the Soviet Union’ medal because you insist, right?”

I nodded, “As she’s said, it’s ancient history. But she saved the life of Ivan Voronin, and that is something to be proud of, even if she was simply doing her duty to the Soviet Union.”

“A lot of good men and women died in that war, and most of them never got medals or awards.”

I nodded, “That’s true, but none of them were my dad.”

He smiled and nodded, “I understand.”

November 27, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“¡¿Don Luís?!” Felipe gasped in shock when he walked into the lobby of the dojo on Monday evening.

My dad nodded, holding out his hand, which Felipe took, and after a short pause, pulled my dad into a quick hug, and they clapped each other’s backs, muttering quick greetings in Spanish.

“Felipe, meet my dad, Ray Adams,” I grinned.

“This is some sort of joke, right?” Felipe asked, as they released each other.

“No, Mr. Felipe!” Birgit interjected. “This is my grandpa!”

“«Tesoro», you’re telling me the truth?”

“Yes! I would never lie to you!” Birgit protested. “Grandpa? Do you have another name?”

“We’ll discuss it at home, Pumpkin,” I said quickly and firmly.

Birgit screwed up her face as if she was going to say something, then thought better of it and stayed quiet. Kara and Jessica both gave me strange looks, but a slight shake of my head told them not to ask. Kara took Birgit’s hand and led her into the practice room, and Jessica followed.

“Felipe,” I said quietly, “if you miss class, I’ll understand.”

He nodded, and I went into the practice room. I suspected the conversation I was going to miss would be VERY interesting, but it was, in the end, between two old comrades, much as my dad’s conversations with the Navy men had been between men of common purpose in a fraternity of which I wasn’t a member.