Rage against the master spy leads to murder of young boy.
For years, I had eluded Castro’s men, the G-2 counter intelligence forces. They wanted me badly; I had given the U.S. and other allies valuable information about troop and munitions movements, training bases, terrorist camps, and agents all over the world.  Fidel knew who I was; he had for years.

He couldn’t get to me. But my son still lived in Cuba, a young boy just old enough to ride his favorite motorcycle around the streets of Havana every day. He was such a good boy, he would help his mother take care of the work by riding errands on that bike he loved so much. And one fateful day, a military truck ran him down while he rode it.

Witnesses said the truck didn’t even try to stop, it simply drove over my son all the way up on to the sidewalk, as if to make sure he was dead. Of course, it didn’t stop. The truck kept going, with the blood of a young boy smeared on its underside.

The price of my betrayal of Castro was my son. I loved my son very much. I only hope he knew that I did what I did for him, and all my people in Cuba.

The Zipper contains the full story of the loss of Dr. D’Marmol’s son.