Havana Bay

Oh, the walls have ears. The Cubans are excellent at electronic surveillance. We trained them. The only really safe lines are at the embassy. You just have to stop worrying. Anyway, now we have a diplomatic staff of twenty people. This is a ghost ship. Never mind that we drove ourselves into bankruptcy to pay for this floating circus, that our entire system came crumbling down while they danced the salsa. The point is, relations between us and the Cubans have never been worse and now you tell me that you can't identify Pribluda's body?'

'Not conclusively.'

'It was conclusive enough for the Cubans. I've talked to a Captain Arcos and he seemed very reasonable, considering he pulled a Russian out of Havana Harbor.'

'A dead Russian.'

'As I understand it, death was caused by a heart attack. A tragic but natural event.'

'There's nothing natural about Pribluda floating in the bay.'

'With spies these things happen.'

'Officially, he was a sugar attache.'

'Right. Well, all he had to do was drive around the island and visit some cane fields and see the Cubans won't make their sugar quota, because they never have. As for secret intelligence, the Cuban army is now moving missiles with oxen instead of trucks, that's all you need to know about that. The faster we get this little episode behind us the better.'

'There is the other little episode of Rufo and me.'

'Well, who knows what you are? We've lost a driver and an apartment thanks to you.'

'I'll stay at Pribluda's. It's empty.'

Bugai pursed his lips.» That's not the worst solution. I intend to keep this problem as far from the embassy as possible.'

Arkady discovered that talking to Bugai was much like trying to catch a jellyfish; every time he groped for an answer the vice consul floated out of reach.

'Before the Cubans even found the body someone here at the embassy knew that Pribluda was in trouble and sent me a fax. It was unsigned. Who could that be?'

'I wish I knew.'

'You can't find out?'

'I don't have enough staff to investigate my staff.'

'Who assigned Rufo to me?'

'The Cuban Ministry of the Interior assigned Rufo to us. Rufo was their man, not ours. There was no one else on hand when you arrived in the middle of the night. I didn't know exactly who you were and I still don't know exactly who you are. Of course, I've called Moscow, and perhaps they've heard of you but what you're really involved in I don't know. Crime is not my specialty.'

'What I'm involved in is identifying Pribluda. The Cubans asked for photographs of him and wanted to come to the embassy. You refused.'

'Well, this is my field. First, we had no photographs. Second, the Cubans always use any opportunity to gain access to the embassy and poke around sensitive areas. It's a state of siege. We were the comrades, now we're the criminals. Punctured tires in the middle of the night. Being pulled over for shakedowns when the police see Russian license plates.'

'Like Moscow.'

'But in Moscow the government has no control, that's the difference. I have to say we never had any trouble with Rufo until you.'

'Where's the ambassador?'

'We're between ambassadors.'

Arkady reached for a notepad from the desk and wrote, 'Where is the resident intelligence agent Pribluda reported to?'

'It's no big secret,' Bugai said.» The chief of guards is here, he's just muscle. But the chief of security has been in Moscow for the past month interviewing for a position in hotel management, and he made very clear to me that while he was gone he wanted 'no red flags.' And as for me, I do not intend to be recalled to Moscow over a spy who had a heart attack floating around in the dark.'

'When Pribluda communicated with Moscow he used a secure line?'

'We send encrypted E-mail on a hooded machine that wipes clean, not even a ghost on the hard drive once you delete. But not that many messages are encrypted. The usual faxes, calls and E-mail are plain text on ordinary machines, and I would love a shredder that actually worked.' Arkady produced the photograph of the Havana Yacht Club to ask about Pribluda's Cuban friends, but the vice consul barely glanced.» We have no Cuban friends. It used to be an event when a Russian artist visited Havana. People just watch American films on television anyway. Fidel steals them and shows them. It costs him nothing. Some people have satellite dishes and pick up Miami. And there's Santeria. He's willing to promote voodoo to entertain the masses. African superstitions. The longer I'm here the more African these people get.'

Arkady put the Yacht Club away.» The Cubans need a better picture of Pribluda. The embassy must have a security photograph of him.'

'That would be up to our friend in Moscow. We'll have to wait until he returns from his job search, and that could be another month.'

'A month?'

'Or more.'

Bugai had kept retreating and Arkady had kept advancing until he stepped on a pencil that broke with a sharp crack. The vice consul jumped and looked not as cool as jellyfish anymore, more like an egg yolk at the sight of a fork. His nervousness reminded Arkady that he had killed a man; whether in self-defense or not, killing someone was a violent act and not likely to attract new friends.

'What was Pribluda, your sugar attache, working on?'

'I can't possibly tell you that.'

'What was he working on?' Arkady asked more slowly.

'I don't think you have the authority,' Bugai began, and amended as Arkady started around the desk.» Very well, but this is under protest. There's a problem with the sugar protocol, a commercial thing you wouldn't understand. Basically they send us sugar they can't sell anywhere else, and we send them oil and machinery we can't unload anywhere else.'

'That sounds normal.'

'There was a misunderstanding. Last year the Cubans demanded negotiations of agreements already signed. With such bad feelings between the two countries we let them bring in a third party, a Panamanian sugar trader called AzuPanama. Everything was resolved. I don't know why Pribluda was looking into that.'

'Pribluda, the sugar expert?'

'Yes.'

'And a photograph of Pribluda?'

'Let me look,' Bugai said before Arkady took another step. He backed to the bookshelves and retrieved a leather album, which he opened on the desk, flipping through ring-bound pages of mounted photographs.» Guests and social events. May Day. Mexican Cinco de Mayo. I told you Pribluda didn't come to these things. Fourth of July with the Americans. The Americans don't have an embassy, only a so-called Interests Section bigger than an embassy. October, Cuban Independence Day. Did you know that Fidel's father was a Spanish soldier who fought against Cuba? December. Maybe there's one. We used to have a traditional New Year's party with a Grandfather Frost for Russian children, a major affair.

Now we have only a few children, but they demand Santa Claus and a Christmas party.'

In the photograph two girls with bows in their hair sat on the lap of a bearded man in a plush red suit, a round figure with cheeks rouged to a cheery glow. Presents ringed a tinsel tree. Behind the children spread a buffet line of adults balancing plates of cheeses and Christmas cakes and glasses of sweet champagne. At the far end someone who might have been Sergei Pribluda shoved his whole hand into his mouth.

'The heat in that suit was unbelievable.'

'You wore it?' Arkady took a closer look at the picture.» You don't look well.'