building. A suspicious-minded New York widow named Genevieve and a black cocker spaniel named Cooper met Tom at the door with a scowl and a growl.
Who are you?'
Tom Jefferson.'
If that's an alias, mister, it's a mighty patriotic one.'
Actually, it's my real name. I guess that comes as a shock to you people. Never knew so many people with different names. Frank sent me. Frank Sorges. Frank Fiorucci. Frank Sinatra for all I care, lady.'
I know who sent you. Do come in, Mister Jefferson. And forgive me. Like most exiles, I feed on dreams of hope, but sometimes I forget my table manners. Quiet, Cooper. This man is a friend.'
Tom stepped around the dog in the hallway. Genevieve closed the door behind him and said, Would you like a cafecito? Just about everything has a Cuban angle around here.'
His quick eyes took in the stack of Bohemia, a Havana weekly newspaper once anti-Batista in its sympathies, but now vehemently anti-Castro, that stood in the hall; the many boxes of Montecristo cigars; a large black brassbound navy foot locker with a label that read Zenith Technological Services', a company Tom had earlier learned was a front, on the university campus, for the CIA's anti-Castro effort; and a furled Cuban flag.
So I see,' he said.
I used to be married to a Cuban tobacco grower,' she explained, thinking Tom was referring only to the cigars. Help yourself if you'd like a smoke.'
No thanks. They give me a throat.'
Me, I love them. I smoke at least one a day, but only when I'm at home. On the whole, Miami is still not really receptive to the idea of the female cigar smoker.' Genevieve pointed behind Tom. Well, go right on through and introduce yourself. Frank's not here yet. I'll get you that coffee.'
Tom watched her as far as the kitchen door. She was wearing a tight-fitting sleeveless black lounge suit with her initials - GS -embroidered just beneath one of her substantial breasts, of which there was plenty to see. Genevieve may have been an American but Tom thought she had that Havana look, a flirtatious style that emphasised the bust and the bottom. Tom liked that. Those were the parts he liked to emphasise himself. With both hands.
The lounge was more Palm Beach mansion than Biscayne Bay modern: a couple of Mack-sized sofas, expensive Persian rugs, antique coffee tables, Japanese lacquer screens, and Chinese vases full of flowers. Just about the only Cuban influence on the way the room looked was the quartet of macho individuals who were sitting in it. Not one of them was in charge of a moustache less than one inch thick or a cigar less than six inches long.
Tom found a cloud-free area of the room and sat down with a curt good morning largely prompted by his having recognised one of the four men, a skinny, inscrutably featured character wearing Lee slacks, a Lacoste shirt, a fur felt casual hat with a wide batik band, and hair that was the colour of his bloodshot eyes. Tom never forgot a face, nor the name that went with it, nor the reason why it needed remembering in the first place. He knew this guy from a job he had done back in Guatemala. But the man, whose name was HA1/4ber Lanz, could only recall one third of what Tom had already remembered.
I know you, don't I?' he asked.
Tom grimaced and shrugged, but he held the bloodshot stare, as if his own eyes had been stuck to Lanz's own. Now was not the time to look shifty or evasive. Could be,' he allowed.
Yeah, but where from?'
Damned if I know.' Tom held out his hand. Name's Tom Jefferson.'
HA1/4ber Lanz.' Lanz shook it, and then shook his head. Jefferson? No. Doesn't connect. But it'll come to me. I've got a memory likeaEU|' He shook his head as he tried to remember the word in English. Un tamiz.'
A sieve,' said Tom, translating. Sure looks like it.'
Exactly. Anyway, this is Diaz Castillo: And over there we have Orlando Bosch. And Alonzo Gonzales.'
Tom nodded at each of them. Pleased to meet you, gentlemen.'
Frank sent his apologies,' said Bosch. And to tell you that he'll be joining us as soon as he can.'
You're some kind of freedom fighters, right?'
El Movimiento Insurreccional de RecuperaciA3n Revolucionaria,' Bosch said proudly. However, since Miami Anglos seem to have such a problem with Cuban names, we are the M-I-R-R, for short.' He smiled. Although I fully expect even that to give us some problems when Christmas comes and we have little children talking about gold, frankincense and myrrh.' Bosch was well spoken, with the professional, even clinical air of a doctor or a dentist. Although no gift could seem as precious as the one you bring to our humble cause, Mister Jefferson.'
Hit. Termination. Contract. Feasibility study. And now a gift. Tom winced. Another rat creeping around the cheese. I wouldn't say gift describes it exactly,' he objected, with a wry smile. There's the not-so-small matter of my fee.'
Since we are not paying your fee,' laughed Gonzales, it's a gift to us. A gift from your vice-president.'
Does that mean you're going to vote for him?'
Alas, no,' said Gonzales. We are not yet permitted. But fortunately for us it will make little difference who is president. Kennedy is also very sympathetic to our cause.'
Frank has told us all about you,' said Bosch. We have been told that you're the best.'
You've certainly priced the contract that way,' observed Lanz.
Tom shrugged dismissively. That's capitalism, I guess.'
But even the best needs help to kill a man like Fidel Castro. So we have been very busy on your behalf. Isn't that right, Genevieve?'
Genevieve was laying a tray of coffees on the table. Very.'
Genevieve is a great patron of our cause,' explained Bosch. Some people come and go, but Genevieve almost makes el exilio a pleasure. And because she is an American she is able to come and go, in and out of Havana, as she pleases. As a matter of fact she has just returned from a visit she made on your behalf, Mister Jefferson. But I'll let her tell you about that in a moment. She's as well connected as it's possible to be. She even entertains Cuban government officials. None of these communist idiots suspects where her real sympathies lie, of course. And why should they? She still has her seaside estate in Miramar, and her beautiful apartment in Marinao.'
Tom took the little cup offered to him and, drinking, found the coffee thick, strong, and sweet, the way Cubans liked it. The way he liked it himself.
Alonzo there, he is in the same kind of business as yourself, only he lacks your experience. He'd never fired a gun before the revolution. Diaz is a bookmaker. HA1/4ber is a pilot. He flies a seaplane for Southern Air Transport.'
The company's owned by Actus Technology,' explained Lanz. But really that's just a holding company for the CIA. You see? Another gift. People here are very generous.'
I guess we can afford it. Especially when we're Jack Kennedy.' Tom nodded back at Lanz who, with eyes narrowed, still looked as though he was trying to recollect the circumstances of their first acquaintance. And what about you, Mister Bosch? What do you do?'
Doctor Bosch. I'm just a poor paediatrician, Mister Jefferson. This kind of thing is all new to me. All I want to do is to see my country restored to democracy before it is too late. I do not approve of murder, you understand. None of us is a criminal. But these are special circumstances. Castro is an evil dictator. Many people in my country have died already. And many more look certain to die before this thing is concluded. Perhaps I will die myself. If so, I do not fear it.'
Tom nodded, and said, No temAis una muerta gloriosa.' This was the lyric of La Bayamesa', the Cuban national anthem. Do not fear a glorious death. To die for country is to live.'
Bosch looked impressed. Yes. That is it precisely, Mister Jefferson. Thank you. I can see now that you are much more than a mere assassin, as I had been led to believe. It will be an honour to help you in any way we can. So. To business. The matter of una estafa, a trick to expedite the completion of your business and a successful escape. Genevieve. Tell him what you and Diaz have rolled at your galera.'
Genevieve finished lighting her cigar, holding it by the underside, as if she had been grasping the handle of a golf putter. The reason for her seductively low voice was now plain to see. It's true,' she said. This plan has to be rolled together like a good cigar. The first smaller leaf, the tripa, gives the cigar its form. Then the hoja de fortaleza for flavour, and the hoja de combustiA3n to enable the cigar to burn evenly. Last of all we have the copa with which
