Havana Bay

all fronts.'

Arkady was more interested in pictures of boxers on the wall.

'Kid Chocolate, Kid Gavilan, Teofilio Stevenson. Mongo's heroes,' Erasmo said.

Under a newspaper photo of Fidel in a sparring pose with a tall, spindly fighter the caption read, 'El Jefe con eljoven pugilista Ramon Bartelemy.'

'You said his name is Mongo.'

Erasmo shrugged as if it were self-evident.» Ramon, Mongo, same thing.'

The picture of Cuban boxers in front of the Eiffel Tower was identical with the one Arkady had seen in Rufo's room, except now Arkady saw that next to Rufo was Ramon 'Mongo' Bartelemy.

'If he's not here, where do you think he is?'

'I don't know. His tube is here. Arkady, do you mind if I ask about the PNR? There were two stationed across the street until the show at the santero's. I know they don't like Russians, but is there anything you want to tell me? After all, it's where I live too.'

Arkady thought that was a reasonable request.» Sergeant Luna might have something to do with them.'

'Luna. That Luna, the dark phase of the moon, unseen but there. Yes, a bad man to cross and a very bad man to embarrass before his friends. An exquisite choice of enemy. And now the PNRs are gone. You may want them in case he's coming back.'

'That's occurred to me.'

'You're so intent on finding Sergei?'

'Or what happened to him.'

'You should start thinking about what's going to happen to you. You have no authority and you don't even pretend to speak the language, which is a relief. You can't investigate, all you can do is get involved.'

'In what?'

'Cuba, which is very complicated. But simply, if you don't want your head in a bucket, stay away from Luna. I tell you that because I feel a little responsible for last night. I don't need any more regrets.'

Arkady opened the shutter wider. Under a low sun, waves pressed against an offshore breeze and two neumaticos came into view riding the crown of a swell, each in turn sliding up the incoming brow, sinking from sight and reappearing on the next slope of water like riders on submerged horses.» So, if Mongo's tube is here, where is he?'

'He can still fish.'

By the time Arkady and Erasmo returned outside the neumaticos were using short paddles to maneuver around the breakwater. Green aerated waves churned between the breakwater and rock. The fishermen had to come in on one rush as much as possible and the boulders struck Arkady as an excellent place to crack a head.

'When does Mongo go out?'

'You never know. Neumaticos go out day or night. They fish one stretch of the bay and then another. I think you have to call fishing from an inner tube a feat of improvisation. They can stay close to shore or go miles out, where the charter boats are hooking marlin. The boats don't like that, having a couple of poor Cubans mess with their tourists.'

'The neumaticos try to catch marlin?'

'They could. They're like buoys, they just drag behind until a fish gets tired. A fish could tow them to Florida, who knows? But they've got to get the fish back, no? Would you like to land a marlin in an inner tube? No. Another problem is barracuda because they'll bite on anything. A barracuda on your lap isn't so much fun either. So, they take smaller fish. They do well, especially at night, but then you have to take flashlights and lamps, and at night the inner tubes attract sharks, that's the part I wouldn't like. That's why neumaticos go in pairs, for safety.'

'Always in pairs?'

'Absolutely, in case one gets sick or loses his fins. Especially at night.'

'Do they have radios?'

'No.'

'And what exactly could a neumdtico do while his friend was being eaten by a shark?'

Erasmo let his eyebrows rise.» Well, we have a lot of religions in Cuba to choose from.'

What appealed to Arkady was the marginal aspect of the fishermen, the way they folded into the motion of the sea, rose on the horizon and then slid from sight, their vanishing act. Lying back in their tubes, they removed their flippers and sat up, paddles lifted. A still space was followed by a trough sucking sand and then a set of three waves gathering strength. Both men chose the same climactic surge and stroked in deep pulls to ride it around the breakwater and up the rocks. The nearer spilled, clutching his tube with one hand and rocks with the other until he could scramble up on his belly. The second was an older man in a straw hat, and he timed his landing to let the wave's momentum smoothly lift him standing onto the coral, the brim of his hat trembling raggedly in the breeze, shirt and pants bleached, black shanks ending in feet gray with calluses. He found a tide pool in which to deposit his catch while he tucked his gear between the tube and the net that constituted his one-man craft. Despite the weight and dripping of the inner tube balanced on his head, he found a match to light the stub of a cigar in his mouth.

Arkady dug out the photograph of the Havana Yacht Club for Erasmo to show him. The fisherman put his finger on Mongo and pointed to the sky.

'Pe'cando con cotneta. Con cometa.'

'It's what I thought.' Erasmo pointed out to Arkady a dot in the sky.» You see that kite? The old man says maybe he saw Mongo fishing over there. Even from the air the industrious Cuban finds his fish.'

Arkady thought of Pribluda's heart attack.» Could you ask him if he ever fishes in the rain?'

'He says,'Sure.''

'When there's lightning?'

A solemn shake of the head.» No.'

'When was the last time there was lightning on the bay?'

'He says,'A month.''

They took the Jeep. Since the kite was too far over the water to keep track of from the street, Arkady stopped for another look. From a bathing stairway he saw about two hundred meters farther on a thin figure in a cap standing on steps and playing out a string rising with a delicate curve that disappeared into the air. Perhaps three hundred meters over the water a kite rode the offshore wind. The Jeep honked.

'Sorry, but you should have seen them,' Erasmo explained when Arkady returned to the car. Arkady swiveled and saw a pair of long-legged blondes roller-blading away.» Jineteras on wheels, a mechanic's fantasy.'

'We're looking for Mongo.'

'Right. To fish with a kite you actually need two lines,' Erasmo said when they started driving again.» One to the kite, one to the hook. The first line takes the second one out, and when the kite is far enough to reach the kind of fish you want, you jerk the second line and it falls into the water.'

'What about the charter boats below?'

'Richly amusing. They're playing Hemingway and here's a hook dropping down from some poor Cuban bastard on the beach.'

Even though Mongo was not in view of the street, once they were close the kite string led them to two lime- green beach houses attached like Siamese twins at the second floor. The windows were boarded and weeds grew on the roof. Arkady helped Erasmo into his chair, and they moved through the walkway that ran between the houses to rocks sparkling with fish scales. A long shovel stood, inserted by the blade between cement stairs that had split. Reels of kite and hook cord spun on the wooden shaft, feeding themselves so fast to the outbound kite that they hummed. A green baseball cap fluttered on the handle. Whether he had seen Mongo or the shovel, Arkady wasn't sure. The car horn hadn't helped.

'How could he disappear so quickly?' Arkady asked.

'He can be elusive. That's what they called him when he was in the ring, the Elusive Mongo.'