“Do you mean to tell me that Private Castillo saw the intruder enter my client’s house?”
“I think I’ll let Private Castillo speak for himself. He speaks no English, so I will translate for him.”
“That’s not necessary,” said Jack. “I’ll let you know if I miss something.”
“Fine.” The colonel addressed the soldier in Spanish. “Private Castillo, I’ve already explained to Mr. Swtyeck that you are part of our surveillance team at Guantánamo Bay. In general terms, explain what you do and when you do it.”
“I’m part of the third eight-hour shift. I work midnight to eight A.M.”
“So, you work both nighttime and daylight hours?”
“Yes. Mostly night, obviously. Which means I use infrared binoculars. After sunrise, I use regular binoculars.”
“What portion of the base do you watch?”
“The permanent housing section of the main base. Mainly the officers.”
The colonel said, “Private Castillo, you know why Mr. Swyteck is here, correct?
“Yes.”
“You know the nature of the charges against his client?”
“Yes, that was explained to me.”
“Do you have any information that might be of help to Mr. Swyteck’s client?
“Yes, I do.”
“Would you please tell that information to Mr. Swyteck now?”
“Yes, of course.” He drew a breath, and he seemed to be fighting a bad case of dry mouth. The colonel poured him a glass of water, and the young man’s hand shook as he drank, causing a trickle to run from the corner of his mouth. Jack didn’t take it as a sign of deception. Any soldier of his rank would have been nervous in front of the colonel.
Castillo said, “Most of my nights are uneventful, but the most unusual thing that occurred on this particular night was somewhere between five-thirty and six A.M.”
“What happened?”
“Part of the area I watch includes the housing for U.S. Marine officers. I noticed a soldier arrive at one of the houses.”
“What made this event at all memorable?”
“Because it wasn’t his house. But he walked straight in, no knock or anything.”
“Before six o’clock in the morning?”
“That’s correct.”
“What house did you see him enter?”
“The house of Captain Oscar Pintado.”
Jack’s heart was pounding. “I’m sorry. What date are you talking about?”
“The seventeenth of June.”
That was day Oscar Pintado was shot. Jack was almost afraid to ask the next question, as if testimony this good just had to unravel. “Did you see who the man was who entered the house?”
“Please,” said the colonel, “allow me to ask the questions. Your Spanish is not-”
“I think he understands me fine,” said Jack.
The colonel considered it, then acquiesced. “Fine. You may ask your questions.”
Jack was unaware of it, but he’d instinctively scooted to the edge of his seat. He didn’t want to be combative, but he did have some serious probing to do. “Did you get a good look at the man who entered the house?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Who was it?”
“Lieutenant Damont Johnson, United States Coast Guard.”
“How can you be sure it was Lieutenant Johnson?”
“Because I’ve seen him at the Pintado house many times before.”
“And how is it that you’ve seen him go to that house on so many different occasions?”
“This was my quadrant. I have a map and a chart that lists all the buildings, all the occupants.”
“So it’s part of your job to survey certain areas of the base.”
“Yes,” he said, then shrugged. “But, to be honest, everyone on the surveillance team had an eye on the Pintado house.”
“Because of who his father was?”
“No.” He smiled a little, as if embarrassed. “It was our entertainment.”
“Your entertainment?”
“Yes. We spend long hours looking at nothing. When we got bored, we would always scan over to the Pintado house and see what was going on.”
Jack watched his expression closely, searching for innuendo. “What kind of things went on there?”
“Well, like I said, I saw Mr. Johnson there many times.”
“And you found him entertaining?”
“Oh, yes. Very.”
“You mean when he went over to visit Captain Pintado?”
“Not so much then. I’d say he was most entertaining when he went over there to visit Captain Pintado’s wife.”
Jack tried not to show his surprise. “You mean Lindsey Hart?”
“Yes.”
“How often did you see Lieutenant Johnson and Mrs. Hart together at the Pintado house?”
“Many times.”
“Now, you told me earlier that you were part of the midnight to eight A.M. shift. So, I want you to think about this carefully. Are you sure you saw Lindsey Hart together with Lieutenant Johnson many times between midnight and eight o’clock?”
“Oh, yes. I saw them. Usually more like between two A.M. and five A.M.”
“You actually saw them together inside the house?”
“Sure. We have sophisticated equipment. A tiny slit in the blinds is all we need to see into the bedroom.”
“The bedroom,” said Jack, his words almost involuntary.
“Yes. The bedroom.”
“I hate to sound stupid, but what was Lieutenant Johnson doing in the bedroom with Captain Pintado’s wife in the middle of the night?”
He smiled and said, “What do you think they were doing?”
“Nobody cares what you or I think they were doing. I want to know what you actually saw them doing.”
Castillo glanced at the colonel, uttering a few words and expressions that Jack didn’t understand. The colonel looked at Jack and said in English, “They were going at it like a couple of porn stars.”
Jack was silent, his eyes momentarily unable to focus. “How often did you see them together?”
“Maybe once a week.”
“When was the first time you saw them together?”
“I’d say about two months before Captain Pintado’s death.”
“When was the last time you saw them together?”
“The night Captain Pintado died.”
“They were together the night Captain Pintado was shot?”
“Yes. Lieutenant Johnson left the Pintado house around three A.M. Mrs. Hart left the house for work around five-thirty. Then about twenty minutes later, Lieutenant Johnson came back to the house and entered through the back door. He left about ten minutes later, and then the police arrived about sunrise. You know the rest.”
Again, Jack fell silent. He’d expected to hear about an intruder, and instead he’d been whacked between the eyes with a sex scandal.
The colonel said, “Thank you, Private Castillo. That will be all for now.”
“I have a few more questions,” said Jack.
“That will be all for now,” the colonel said, speaking as much to Jack as to the soldier.
The private rose and left the room. As the door closed, the colonel looked at Jack and said, “Surprised?”
Jack nodded, as if nothing came as a surprise any longer. “What do you expect me to do with this information from Private Castillo?”
“That’s what I’m here to discuss. First, do you like what he had to say, or do you not like it?”
“I’m not sure,” said Jack.
“It is one of those two-edged swords, isn’t it? You have the lieutenant headed over to the Pintado residence right around the time of the murder. Or at least the time of the murder as established in the NCIS report, which I’ve seen, by the way.”
“Naturally.”
“So, you have the lieutenant at the Pintado house at the time of the murder. But you also have him involved in an affair with the victim’s wife. They both have motive. They both have opportunity.”
“You talk like a lawyer,” said Jack.
“I watch a lot of Law and Order. American television is my one capitalist indulgence.”
The opulent surroundings offered Jack plenty of opportunity to argue about the extent of the colonel’s “capitalist indulgences,” but he let it drop. Jack said, “Are you still offering to make Private Castillo available to testify at Lindsey Hart’s trial in Miami?”
“That depends,” said Colonel Jiménez. “If you like what he has to say, then yes: I am offering to make him available to you.”
