Havana Bay

on the west end of the Malecon was particularly sun-blasted, white paint peeling off battlements, a radio mast on the roof, a guard sheltering in the shade of the door. Air-conditioning had never been introduced and the interior stifled, with historic scents of piss and blood. The police regularly mounted campaigns against jineteras, cleaning up the Malecon and Plaza de Armas. The next night the same girls would be back, but paying a little more to the police for protection. Because Ofelia's minor operation was directed at corrupt officers of the PNR rather than at the girls, she was not popular with the other detectives, all male, who shared her office. When she returned with the girl, she found the wall behind her desk newly decorated with a poster of Sharon Stone straddling a chair, and taped in the center of the poster the regulations concerning premature discharge of a weapon. Ofelia stuffed the poster into a wastebasket and set a tape machine with two radio-style microphones on the desk. The third person in the room was Dora, the patrol sergeant who had been the watch by the pool, an older woman with a face mournful from experience.

Teresa Guiteras Marin was fourteen, a tenth-grade student from the country town of Ciego de Avila, although she had already been warned before by Ofelia about soliciting tourists near the Marina Hemingway. Ofelia asked how and where Teresa had met her friend (by chance on the Malecon), what money or rewards had been offered or given (none except for a Swatch, a friendship token), whose idea was the Casa de Amor (his), who paid at the reception desk and how much (he did, she didn't know how much, but he also bought her a rose that she would like to go back to the room for). Finally, Ofelia asked whether she had seen or paid or communicated in any fashion with any member of the PNR. No, Teresa swore she hadn't.

'You understand that if you do not cooperate, you will be fined a hundred pesos and entered in the register of prostitutes. At fourteen.'

Teresa slipped her feet from her platform sandals and drew her legs up onto the chair. She had all the mannerisms of a child, the pouty lip and downcast eyes.

'I'm not a prostitute.'

'You are. He paid you two hundred dollars to be with him for a week.'

'A hundred and fifty.'

'You sell yourself too cheaply.'

'At least I can sell myself.' Teresa played with a curl, wrapping it around a finger.» That's more than you ever see.'

'Maybe. But you had to buy false residence papers to stay in Havana. You had to pay a room illegally to sleep in, then pay the Casa de Amor to screw in. Most of all, you have to pay the police.'

This was a doublethink that drove Ofelia crazy. Teresa didn't consider herself a prostitute, no. Jineteras were students, teachers, secretaries merely making extra money. Some parents were proud of how their little Teresas helped to support the family; in fact, some regular visitors to Cuba didn't dare arrive without presents for their favorite chica's mother, father, little brother. The problem was AIDS, which was like throwing young girls into the maws of a dragon. Only you didn't have to throw them, they lined up to dive.

'So now you work two places,' Ofelia said.» Days you're at the Casa de Amor, nights you're at the boats. Is that the kind of life you want to lead?'

Teresa's eyes shone through her hair.» It's better than school.'

'Better than the hospital? Did you check this German friend of yours?'

'He was clean.'

'Oh, you have a laboratory?'

It was like arguing with children. They would never be infected, they took vitamins, anise, vinegar. The men refused to wear condoms because they hadn't come around the world to smoke half a cigar.

'Hija, listen. Unless you give me the name of police who take money from you I will enter your name in the register of prostitutes. Whenever there is a sweep of prostitutes you will be dragged away. And if you are ever caught again you will be sent to a reeducation farm for two years minimum. That's a nice place to grow up.'

Teresa pulled up her knees and glowered. Her pout was exactly like Muriel's. She was three years older.

Herr Lohmann had been waiting in an interrogation room. He folded his arms and tilted back in his chair as Ofelia examined his visa. He spoke lederhose Spanish.» So I have one room at the Hotel Capri and another at the Casa de Amor? I paid for both. Twice the money for Cuba.'

'How did you even know about the Casa de Amor?'

'The girl told me. She's not exactly a virgin, you know.'

'To be clear,' Ofelia said.» You are forty-nine. You are having sex with a fourteen-year-old girl, a student. You did this regardless of the laws of Cuba for the protection of children. Are you aware that you could be spending six years in a Cuban jail?'

'I doubt that very much.'

'So you are not afraid.'

'No.'

She opened his passport and flipped through stamped pages.» You travel quite a lot.'

'I have business to attend to.'

'In Thailand, the Philippines?'

'I'm a salesman.'

'Based?'

'In Hamburg.'

His passport photo was a head and shoulders of a respectable burgher in dark suit and tie.

'Married?'

'Yes.'

'Children?'

No answer.

'Here for?'

'Business.'

'Not for pleasure?'

'No. Although I enjoy other cultures.' He had teeth like a horse.» I was at the bar at the Hotel Riviera and this girl asked if I could buy her a cola.'

'To enter the lobby of the Riviera she had to be with a man. Who was it?'

'I don't know. In Havana I am approached by a lot of men who want to know do I need a car, a cigar, whatever?'

'Were there any police in the lobby?'

'I don't know.'

'You are aware that it is against Cuban law for Cuban citizens to visit a hotel room.'

'Is that so? Sometimes I stay at hotels in the countryside run by the Cuban army. When I bring a girl I just pay double. You're the first one to make a fuss.'

'You left the Riviera and went to the Casa de Amor, you and Teresa. According to the guest register at the Casa de Amor you signed in as her husband, Sr. Guiteras.'

'Teresa took care of that. I never went in the office.'

Ofelia looked at notes she had taken of a phone call.» According to the Riviera, you arrived there at the beginning of your visit with a friend, an Italian.'

'A male friend.'

'Named Mossa. He took the room next to you?'

'So?'

'Wasn't he also in the room next to you at the Casa de Amor?'

'So?'

'The two of you met Teresa and her friend together?'

'Wrong. I found Teresa and he connected on his own.'

'You found her?'

'Or she found me. It makes no fucking difference. Girls develop faster here.' He smoothed his hair back.»