Free Stalked: The Boy Who Said No by Patti Sheehy

short time together, Frank had developed a genuine respect and fondness for the man. Carlos was smart and compassionate, a combination Frank valued.
    Frank was in full agreement with the agency’s goals, and he knew he could help. But the idea of reentering the vortex that was Cuba cramped his throat. The next morning, as they drove to Carlos’s office, Frank approached the subject. “I know you want an answer regarding our discussion the other day.”
    Carlos raised a hand to stop him.
    “Let’s wait until we get to the office to talk about it,” he said. Frank could tell from the disappointment in his eyes that he knew what he was going to say.
    “All right.”
    When they arrived at the office, Frank settled himself in a chair and turned toward Carlos. “I’m sorry. The thought of telling youmy decision has been weighing on my mind. I hate to disappoint you, but I cannot accept your offer. I—”
    Carlos gestured his acceptance. “No need to explain. Your priorities are your priorities. You have every right to your decision. You must do what’s best for you. This is America, you know.”
    Frank smiled. “Thank you for that. I appreciate your consideration. But there are more important things I want to do right now—like getting married.”
    “I understand,” said Carlos. He looked out the window and said in a tone that surprised Frank, “It’s hard to argue with love.”
    Frank nodded, not wanting to pursue the subject.
    Carlos closed the manila folder on his desk and turned to retrieve another one sitting on his credenza. He smiled at Frank. “If you aren’t going to join the agency, can you help us in another way?”
    “I’ll do whatever I can.”
    “I’m sure you are aware of Alpha Sixty-six, the organization of Cubans in America who are dedicated to overthrowing Fidel.”
    “I’ve heard of them.”
    “They are a very disciplined group, and they number in the thousands. They are involved in clandestine operations. They keep a low profile. Most Americans have never heard of them. They are better known in the Cuban community, but they keep a tight lid on disclosing their activities. They are well armed and well trained, and they will stop at nothing to undermine Fidel’s regime.”
    “Most of them are refugees, I understand,” said Frank.
    “Yes. Some of their members participated in the Bay of Pigs operation. The CIA works with them on a variety of security issues, including getting people in and out of Cuba.”
    “I see.”
    Carlos cleared his throat. “It would be a great help if you could supply us with information on anyone in Cuba who might be willing to cooperate with us.”
    “Cooperate with the CIA?”
    “With the CIA and with Alpha Sixty-six, if necessary.”
    “I’d have to think about it.”
    Carlos exhaled. “Why don’t you start by telling me about who helped in your escape.”
    Frank took a deep breath. “I made three escape attempts, and a lot of people helped. But in terms of army personnel, it was my friends Manny and Lazo. They covered for me at the base so my absences weren’t noticed.”
    “They took a big risk.”
    “They did,” said Frank, feeling guilty that he had made it to the States and they had not. “They were fellow ATGM operators. If it weren’t for them, I’d be rotting in jail. Or worse. In any event, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking with you.”
    Carlos touched the end of his pencil to his lips. “Describe Lazo for me.”
    “He’s a light-skinned mulatto. Five foot ten. Well-built. Neat dresser.”
    “Smart?”
    “Very. He’s also well spoken, charming, and sophisticated.”
    “Do you trust him?”
    “I’ve already trusted him—with my life.”
    “That says it all.”
    “I guess it does.”
    “Where does he live?”
    “In Guanabacoa with his family. I’ve been to his house many times.”
    “Describe his house for me.”
    Frank wrote down the address and color of the house and handed it to Carlos, who added it to his