All she cared about was getting Luke transferred to the mainland. She’d worry about proving his innocence later, but for now she wanted him out of that hot, tropical climate. When she said as much, Captain Holland interrupted her.

“He’s already been transferred to the American military hospital in Havana. He’s getting exceptional care.”

“We want him transferred to the United States for trial,” her attorney said. “We want him to regain his health so he can fully participate in his defense, and I want regular contact with my client.”

“If you want to see him, go to Cuba,” Captain Holland said. “My guess is that he’ll fire you, just like he’s fired every other attorney he’s had. This entire case is bad for troop morale and our efforts to appease the Cuban opposition. It was better when he was being held by the Cubans.”

That comment took her aback. “Why?” she asked.

“Now that he’s back in American custody, we are forced to proceed to a trial,” Captain Holland said. “The Cubans were probably hoping the pneumonia would finish him off and resolve the political embarrassment.”

She flinched at his callous tone, but something he’d just said didn’t ring true. “But they transferred him to you when he got sick. The Cubans don’t want him to die.”

He slanted her a look as though disappointed at her naiveté. “That’s what they want you to think. They’ll do anything to keep the Americans happy until their island is rebuilt. Then they’ll happily kick us out.”

“What are his odds in a trial?” she asked.

“Not good. Trust me, Miss Delacroix, we loathe the prospect of a trial because it has the potential to stoke the rebellion. Nevertheless, we can’t afford to be lenient in such cases, and a death penalty is almost a certainty. This is a headache I don’t need, but the latest report I’ve had from Cuba is that your brother’s health is not improving. Nature may take its course and spare us all from the indignity of a trial.”

It was a slap in the face, but she couldn’t afford to let it show. If officers in the navy were secretly praying for a convenient death, she had no doubt they’d eventually succeed.

She stood. Mr. Alphonse tried to tug her back down, but she shook him off and braced her hands on Captain Holland’s desk to lean over him.

“Please understand that if ‘nature takes its course’ and my brother suffers a miserable death in a prison hospital, I will raise a firestorm unlike anything you’ve ever seen. I want Luke to have three solid meals a day. Daily visits from a doctor. Clean drinking water and no dank cells. The president told me I could trust you to make this happen, and I’ll be watching.”