Four soldiers sat at a table outside the prison, rifles casually slung across their backs as they played cards. Two of them pushed to their feet as they saw Gray approach. He hoped at least one of them spoke English.

“I’d like to see Luke Delacroix.”

The taller of the two men nodded. “He is here,” he replied in good English.

“I’d like to see him.”

The soldier didn’t move. “He’s not a popular man. How much would you like to see him?”

Gray was prepared to play the game. After passing both men a five-dollar bill, the tall soldier gestured for Gray to hold up his hands. Gray submitted to a frisking, then followed the soldier through the open front door.

No wonder they kept the door open. It was hotter inside, and the air barely moved. The soldier said something in Spanish to the warden. Luke’s name was in the mix, and after a moment, the warden’s eyes brightened and he stood, smiling broadly. Gray didn’t understand and looked to the tall soldier for translation.

“The warden also wants to know how much you would like to see Luke Delacroix.”

After Gray paid off the warden, the soldier took a ring of keys and led him down a long hallway with a series of locked wooden doors on each side. Gray covered his nose against the stench with a handkerchief. The soldier stopped at one of the doors and looked through the tiny grate at the top. He pounded on the door. “Visitor,” he said, and the keys jangled as the iron lock’s bolt turned. Gray lowered the handkerchief. He didn’t want Luke to see how appalling he found this place.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust in the dim cell. The man lying on the cot peered at him, a hand sheltering his eyes from the hallway light.

“Hello, Luke,” Gray said.

Luke rolled into a sitting position. “Gray?” A world of hope was in that single word.

“Yes.” Gray turned to the soldier, who told him he would have twenty minutes for a visit, then closed and locked the door behind him.

Gray had never been claustrophobic, but the sensation of being trapped was suffocating. It felt like the walls were closing in, and there wasn’t much room in the cell. A cot and an overturned wooden crate serving as a bedside table took up most of the space, and a narrow window near the top of the cell was the only source of light and air.

“You probably shouldn’t come any closer,” Luke said. “I stink to high heaven.”

Gray ignored the comment and pulled his brother into a hug.

“Please don’t tell me you came all the way to Cuba for me.”

“I came all the way to Cuba for you,” Gray said, and Luke sighed.