Nelson DeMille - The Cuban Affair

She continued her pitch. “Yale groups go to Cuba two or three times a year. And there are other educational groups I can join. But this group tour, coming at the time of the fishing tournament, is a happy coincidence... a gift from God.” She added, “You — and your boat — are the last piece in this plan.”

Well, that sounded like pressure. This was a persuasive lady. I’d buy a boat from her and consider it a gift from God. But I wasn’t sure I’d risk my life for her, or for the money. Also, there was another piece of the plan she hadn’t addressed, and I asked, “If I said yes, how would you and I travel?”

“An authorized charter flight from Miami to José Martí Airport in Havana with the Yale group and other travel groups onboard.” She added, “The Yale group is booked at a good foreign-owned hotel in Havana.”

That wasn’t actually the question I was asking. “Are we traveling... as friends?”

She seemed almost embarrassed, then recovered and said, “We won’t even know each other until we meet on the tour.” She added to be clear, “Separate rooms.”

Well, if I said yes, at least I couldn’t be accused of thinking with my dick.

I waited for her to dangle the possibility of something more that might clinch the deal, but she said, “I have a boyfriend.”

“Me too. This is Key West.”

She smiled. “I’ve heard otherwise.”

They really did their homework.

She continued, “As for the Pescando Por la Paz, Carlos has entered another ship in the tournament to hold a place. He can substitute The Maine for that ship.”

That answered the question of why I never heard I was in the tournament. I was feeling like a rock star with a conniving manager who was booking me on a tour that I didn’t know about — and didn’t want to go on.

Sara also informed me, “Friends of Carlos chartered your boat in August.”

I thought back to August and remembered two Cuban American couples on a fishing trip.

“They said you were a good captain.”

“They’re right.”

“They also said you have guns onboard.”

In fact, I have a 9mm Glock, and Jack has a.38 Smith & Wesson revolver that we can use if we’re taking a shark onboard. Also onboard was a Browning 12-gauge shotgun for bird and skeet shooting, and an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle for protection. There are a lot of drug smugglers in the Straits and you don’t want to run into them, but if you do, you need to be prepared. Bottom line, my arsenal is for sport, business, and protection against bad guys, which I guess could include Cuban gunboats.

Sara said, “Carlos says your guns can legally stay onboard in Havana and Cayo Guillermo if Mr. Colby declares them and doesn’t bring them ashore. That is maritime law.”

“Okay.”

“But someone may have to bring a pistol ashore.”

“Not happening.”

“We can discuss that later.”

“What else do I need to know that will get me arrested in Cuba?”

“Only what I’ve just told you.” She admitted, “I have no specific details of anything else. This is compartmentalized information, doled out as we need to know it — in case we’re questioned by the police in Cuba. You understand?”

I nodded, wondering what Sara did for a living when she wasn’t designing monuments. I mean, you don’t usually hear “compartmentalized information” from architects or many other people. Maybe she read spy novels. I asked, “How do you know our Havana contact is not being watched by the police?”

“In a police state, the people learn how to identify the secret police and how to lose them.” She reminded me, “I had no problem meeting my contact last year.”

Sara, having survived one trip into the heart of darkness, was a bit cocky. I’ve been there myself. And I have the wounds to prove it.

She also let me know, “There’s a possibility that when we get to Havana, we won’t be able to meet our contact. Or if we do, he or she will advise us, or get word to us, that it’s too dangerous to continue, and the mission will be aborted. If that’s the case, you’ll be paid fifty thousand dollars for your time and trouble.”

“Do I have to look at architecture for the rest of the tour?”

“You’ll find all the cultural aspects of the trip interesting.” She also told me, “If the mission is on, but you change your mind in Havana—”

“That will not happen.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Okay, if we’re in Havana without a mission, will you go drinking and dancing with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.” She made a show of looking at her watch. “We’re going back to Miami tonight.”

“Why don’t you stay in Key West?”

“People are waiting for us in Miami.”

“Okay.” I stood.

She also stood. “I’d like your answer now.”

“You’ll have it before we dock. I have to speak to Jack.”

“All he needs to know is what he needs to know.”

“Carlos made that clear.” I asked, “Will I be seeing Eduardo again?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I enjoy his company.”

She stayed silent, then said, “He’s an avid fisherman.”

“He should fish in safe waters.”

She nodded. “We’ll see.”

I called out to Jack, “We’re heading back!” I said to Sara, “If you think of anything else I need to know, tell me before we dock.”

“There is nothing else, except...”

“Yes?”

“I like your designer T-shirt.” She smiled and tapped my chest. The hook was in.

She also said, “I feel confident that I can put my life in your hands. You survived two combat tours and you can survive Cuba.”

“Well... it’s not the same. I commanded a hundred well-trained men in Afghanistan, armed to the teeth, and each man was watching the other guy’s back. In Cuba, it would be only me and you.”

“But you have balls.”

That sort of took me by surprise.

“And I have brains. And experience.” She smiled again. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Sounds like a T-shirt.”

“Do you have confidence in me?”

“You seem to have confidence in yourself.”

“What more do you want?”

Well, I’d like to get laid, but I’d settle for three million instead.

“Don’t talk yourself out of this, Mac. There’s a saying — ‘I’d rather regret the things I did than the things I didn’t do.’ ”

“I actually regret both.”

“We need you. This is also about justice. And about striking a blow against an inhuman system.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I gave her my standard spiel. “Make yourself comfortable below, or stay on deck, but don’t fall overboard. The Straits are an all-you-can-eat salad bar for sharks. We’ll be back to port within an hour.”

“Good cruise.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

As I moved toward the cabin I could hear the electric windlass raising the anchor. Jack started the engine. “How’d it go?”

“Okay.”

“Are we going to be rich?”

“Not from fishing.”

“Are you at least going to get laid?”

“It didn’t come up.”

He moved out of the captain’s chair, but I said to him, “You take the helm.”

“Why?”

“You need the practice.”

Jack lit a cigarette and pushed forward on the throttle. “Trust your instincts, Mac.”

“My instincts tell me you don’t know what you’re doing in that chair.”

“For half a million, I can learn fast.”

“I need your decision before we dock.”

“What do I need to know before I make a decision?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” He reminded me, “We’re on borrowed time anyway.”