Mission Libertad (16 page)

“Father René de Jesús Suarez, a servant of God and yours,” he said, pulling Luisito into an embrace.

“I last saw you when you were a baby,” he said, to Luisito's surprise. “We received word after you left the island and we prayed for your safe journey.”

The priest then shook everyone else's hand as he explained how he had known Luisito's grandparents for many years. He had been in the seminary with his great-uncle, Abuela's brother, who had died before Luisito was born.

“You should be proud of your grandparents, especially of your abuela, who, after your grandfather's death, continued to help her people through the Church.”

Luisito took a deep breath. He had waited so long to deliver this message for Abuela. He only hoped he had made it in time. “My abuela told me it was very important to tell you the Scripture verse Exodus 32:1–35. She also told me that your mother is waiting for you in Italy. This is what she told me before our escape, but I don't understand. The nun just told me that the lady in this picture is your mother and that she passed away several years ago.”

The priest paced up and down, pondering Luisito's message.

“I understand what she means about my mother,” he said. “I don't understand the Exodus part. I'll have to think about that.”

The priest explained that he was aware that there was a plan to smuggle an original replica of the statue of Our Lady of Charity from Cuba to the United States through the Italian embassy. Arrangements had been made to bring the statue to the exiles in Miami, but he didn't know it had already been accomplished.

“Why did they have to smuggle the statue? Why couldn't they just make another replica?” Tommy interrupted the priest.

“Well, it wouldn't be the same,” Father René de Jesús said. “This statue was carried in a procession around the
island every year. It is from Cuba, and bringing her from the island means a lot to Cubans.”

“I guess the statue is an exile just like us!” Luisito said.

“Yes, to Cubans the statue represents more than their faith. It also represents their heritage,” Father René de Jesús said. “The fact that it is coming from Cuba, where they left everything behind, is very symbolic. She represents protection, unity, peace, and hope—everything Cuban exiles are praying for.”

He paced around...

“I can't imagine what your abuela is trying to tell us with the quote from Exodus,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“Maybe she is telling us that a tornado is coming and parting the seas,” Tommy suggested.

“He is definitely not a prophet,” Sonia murmured, shaking her head.

“Well, why not?” Tommy said. “Did
you
come up with anything?”

“I don't think your abuela means it literally,” the priest said thoughtfully.

“Whatever it is,” Luisito said, “she wants us to be prepared. It was very important for her that I deliver the message.”

“Maybe she means . . .” Tommy started to say, but he was immediately interrupted by Sonia.

“Don't even try,” Sonia said, holding his elbow.

“I was going to say,” Tommy insisted, “that maybe something is coming from Cuba besides the statue.”

“I have an idea,” Luisito said. “Maybe a lot of Cubans are coming, like a mass exodus! Could that be it?”

“Wait a minute,” Sonia said. “You think that the message is that Cubans will be coming to America by sea? If they could have, they would have done that a long time ago.”

“There has been a lot of unrest in the island lately. Maybe she means there will be many more rafters . . . or that someone is planning something we don't know about yet,” the priest answered. “We don't know how or when—but we have to be prepared.”

The group heard a knock on the door, and the nun came in to relay the message that there had been a change of plan. The image, she said, had been secretly given to someone in the Panamanian embassy in Cuba. The man entrusted with making sure the statue was delivered safely would be arriving at the airport that afternoon.

At that moment, the phone rang. The nun answered; then she turned to the priest. “Two more Cubans are here asking to see you. They say they know about the statue, too,” she said with a puzzled expression.

“Tell them to come in,” Father René de Jesús said.

Moments later, a knock sounded on the door and two men walked into the room.

“Oh, my!” Sonia gasped.

“These men have been following us!” Luisito yelled in Spanish.

“Calm down, we are with the FBI,” Antonio lied. “You all speak Spanish?” he asked. Everyone nodded, so he proceeded in that language.

“We have been informed that a statue of some kind is coming into the country. We ourselves are being followed by Cuban spies who are looking for this statue, and we
don't understand why there is so much interest in it,” he said. “Is it carrying anything inside?”

“No, it's simply a statue,” the priest said, trying to downplay the situation.

“When is it arriving?” Antonio asked.

“Today,” Luisito admitted and immediately regretted it. Could they really trust these men?

“If you are going to pick it up, we will go with you,” he said. “What time will it arrive?”

“In about two hours,” the priest replied, glancing at his watch. “Can you please show us your identification?”

“Yes, yes, later. We have no time to waste. We must be on our way,” Antonio said. “Because there is such interest in this statue from Cubans of all political beliefs, it is best you all stay behind for your own safety,” he continued. “Just tell us who exactly is bringing the statue and we will escort this person.”

Father René de Jesús paused. “Hmmm . . . A man in a red shirt will arrive on a plane at Terminal I.”

“Easy to find. Thank you—and don't worry,
Padrecito
. We will be back with the statue,” Antonio said. The two left quickly, slamming the door behind them.

Early in the morning, Abuela walked to Lola's house. She needed to trade some items for potatoes. She was very scared this morning, more than she had ever been, for she knew that the government was keeping a close eye on her. Although she hadn't seen anyone following her since the incident at church with the photos, she was still cautious. Ofelia from the
comité de barrio
had probably been warned. Of course, if they did see her go to Lola's house it wouldn't raise a red flag, for she had been visiting Lola for years.

She knocked on the door. Lola answered with her seemingly ever-present curlers in her hair.

“Come in, please,” she said, giving Abuela a kiss on the cheek.

The same group of people were there as before. Fefa gave Abuela a bag of potatoes. In exchange, Abuela gave her an old curtain she had found. Fefa could use the fabric to make herself much-needed clothes.

“As soon as I can sneak more vegetables, I will bring them your way,” Fefa promised.

The women chatted a little. But Abuela was tired and soon said her good-byes. As she was walking out, Mati confronted her.

“Señora Jemot,” Mati said. She hadn't called her that since she had worked for her family as a housekeeper. “Do you miss your family?” she asked, looking sincere.

“Terribly,” Abuela said.

“I hope one day you can be reunited with them. You know, that they come to their senses and return,” she said nervously.

“Of, course,” Abuela said.

Mati looked particularly nervous, as if she wanted to say something but was too afraid. Abuela could sense the conflict in her between her realization that the Communist Party was not living up to her expectations, and her pride of not wanting to admit to her friends that she had made a terrible mistake by supporting the party in the first place.

Abuela patted Mati on the shoulder as she left. She slowly walked the two blocks back to her house. She finally arrived at her building and walked into her apartment. She wished she could continue walking to church,
but she was tired. The days seemed so long without her family. She decided to see if the water was running. Maybe a shower would help her feel better. Just as she finished dressing, she heard a knock at the door.
Who
could
it
be?
she wondered. It was just past noon, and most of her neighbors were eating or taking their siestas.

She put on her shoes and tried to look through the peephole. Over time it had become so blurred she could hardly recognize who was on the other side.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It's me, Señora Jemot,” Mati said.

Abuela opened the door quickly. Mati looked scared and serious. She had sweat on her forehead.

“Do you want some water?” Abuela offered.

“Yes, please,” Mati said, following Abuela to the small kitchen.

“I have to tell you. As I was preparing lunch yesterday I heard the men I work for mention your grandson. I normally don't listen to their conversations but his name caught my attention. I don't want anything to happen to the boy.”

“What did they say about my grandson?” Abuela said, startled.

“I couldn't hear very well, but they said that they were on his trail and that they were close to finding the statue of Our Lady of Charity,” she said, catching her breath. “The water, please.”

Abuela poured some water into a glass and handed it to her. Mati gulped it down fast.

“Did they say anything else?” Abuela asked.

“Yes, that is why I am here. They said that once they get the statue, you would be dealt with,” she said. “I just don't understand why these important government people would be speaking about you, Señora. Your family has always been peaceful, minding your own business.”

“Oh, my,” Abuela said, sitting down on a stool in the kitchen. Her mind was blank. What could she do now? She couldn't let these cruel people harm her family— especially her dear grandson.

“You have to come with me right now,” Mati insisted.

“Where? Should I hide in the church?” she asked.

“No, let's go to the Peruvian embassy,” Mati said. “I know the cook there. He is a friend of mine. We'll go there and once we're inside, we'll stay.”

“What do you mean ‘we'?” Abuela asked.

“There is no time to waste, Señora Jemot. Let's go. I will explain when we get there,” she said.

Abuela only had time to pick up her purse, stick two bananas inside, and grab her rosary and important papers. They walked quickly out the door.

The room was silent after the supposed FBI agents left. Father René de Jesús told Luisito and the others to remain in the office until the statue was brought from the airport, and he excused himself to pray in the chapel.

“Father, those men are not really FBI agents, are they?” Luisito asked the priest quietly before he went to the chapel.

“How did you know?” the priest asked.

“You told them the man bringing the statue would be at Terminal I, but I don't remember seeing that terminal when I was at the airport. You didn't want them to find the right person, did you?”

“No wonder your abuela entrusted you with her message,” Father René de Jesús said. “You sure pay attention. The FBI contacted me days ago to be aware of something suspicious regarding the statue of Our Lady of Charity and two Cuban men. I've asked my secretary to call the FBI. Now my son, I must pray. It's the most powerful thing I can do.”

Luisito's head was full of questions he had no answers for. He replayed the whole scenario over and over. While the priest went to pray, Luisito could not just wait around. It wasn't in his nature. He paced up and down. Finally he stopped. “We have to do something!” he said to Tommy and Sonia. “Those men are not FBI agents, and they're going to get the statue!”

“They're not FBI? What can we do?” Tommy and Sonia said at the same time.

“We have to find the way to the airport,” insisted Luisito.

“Are you going to tell the priest?” Sonia asked.

“Why interrupt him while he is praying? And where did his secretary go?” Luisito said looking around. “Now, if only we had the flight information.”

“Does this help?” asked Tommy, holding out a pink sticky note. “It was on the nun's desk. I picked it up and started folding it and I forgot to put it back. It has directions to the airport and the flight information.”

“Good!” Luisito said. “Let's go.”

They left through a side door and ran to their car.

“When we get to the airport, Tommy, you go talk to security and I will find the men,” Luisito said. “We can't let them get away with the statue.”

At the airport, Antonio and Jorge searched the terminal map in the baggage area, while flight after flight came in. The two men looked at each other, confused. Where could their terminal be?