Havana Bay

'He's very careful about tires.'

Erasmo dropped the can and Arkady retrieved it.

'Can I help?'

'No, thanks,' Erasmo said.» Do you know the largest minefield in the world? The American base here at Guantanamo, thanks to the U.S. Marines and, especially, our Russian friends, who designed our side of the minefield and then took the plans home. No more help, please.' He opened the can of chilies and poured them into the larger can.» Aha! When a grave robber opens this, there will be a deadly cloud awaiting him. Coughing, crying, sneezing, temporary blindness is, I think, a very humane way of dealing with grave robbers. As/, a Cuban solution to a Cuban problem.'

'Luna saving Tico is a different picture of the sergeant.'

'No, it's not. It's just the other side. People here have two sides, what you see and the opposite.'

'It's complicated?'

'It's real. You don't understand. Cuba was something. We had idealism, and we stood up to the most powerful, most vindictive country on earth. Fidel was great. But Cuba isn't a big enough country for him, and the rest of us can't be heroes forever. Stop asking questions, Arkady. For your own sake, go home.'

The Lius looked up expectantly; they may not have understood the words but they could tell when a conversation had wound to an end. The Chihuahuas blinked their marble-sized eyes, then tore after a lizard. They chased it up a bougainvillea vine to the peak of a waist-high pagoda and when the youngest Liu laughed and performed a karate kick, Arkady was reminded of something else.

'Are there any martial arts dojos in Havana?'

Erasmo said, 'Chinatown.'

You had to block things out, Ofelia thought. She ignored the technicians collecting their small evidence first- clots, hairs, night bag, glasses, bottles of Havana Club-working their way up to plastic bags for bed-sheets and clothes. She paid no attention to the photographers working around the female sprawled in bed like a Naked Maja. All her focus was on Dr. Bias. His hands in waxy rubber gloves, he bent over the body by the door to show her why, although the male was painted in his own blood and the track on the carpet showed his agonizing, futile progress to the door, the dying man didn't cry for help.

'The radio was on. People who take these rooms, as you told me, tend to make noise, and who knows how much alcohol they consumed? His carotid and peroneal arteries were both cut-however, he was alive enough to try to cover up while he was hacked by the machete. He was alive enough to make it to the door, probably after his assailant left. But he never called out. Why? It wasn't because of the radio.' With the tip of a pencil he probed a dark spot under the dead man's Adam's apple and slid the pencil halfway in.» A hole in the trachea. With a hole in your windpipe you cannot say a word. There is no such wound on the neck of the female, she had her throat cut pure and simple. But the first blow to the male, I am sure, was this puncture.'

'Not made by a machete.'

'No, the wound is perfectly round. Still, this sort of mess is typical of the 'crime of passion.' You did well to keep the hotel calm, and you were lucky to find the documents the way you did.'

Which was Bias's sly way of saying he knew she had been ill in the toilet. The doctor was at ease with death in a way she, it was becoming clear, never would be. A body that had been cut up was a flower in bloom, releasing a smell that lodged like beads of blood in the sinuses and a taste that coated the tongue. All the same, she had made a sketch and notes to hand over to whomever the Ministry of the Interior sent over; this was no longer a case of prostitution, and the ministry didn't generally leave violent crimes involving foreign visitors to mere detectives of the PNR.

Bias said, 'I'll examine the sexual aspect, too. She was a prostitute.'

Ofelia looked at the bed. For a girl with her head half sliced off Hedy looked remarkably serene, neatly edged in blood, sheets hardly rumpled.» The killer didn't have sex with her.'

'You kill a girl in bed, that's sexual to me.'

A little insight there, Ofelia thought.

'I saw the female last night at a Santeria ceremony.'

'What is the matter with you? You have so much potential, why do you indulge in such mumbo jumbo?'

'The girl was possessed.'

'Ridiculous.'

'You've never been possessed?'

Bias wiped his pencil.» Of course not.'

'It happened to me once. They had to tell me later.' The entire night had remained a blank to her.

'Was this Italian at the ceremony?'

'No.'

'Fine. Then she came somewhere else later and picked him up here. If I were you I wouldn't get into Santeria unless there is a very good reason. We are at a hotel that, wrongly or rightly, specializes in tourists. Should we tell everyone there are religious fanatics going from room to room killing people?'

'What do you think the Russian will say?'

'Renko? Why should he say anything?'

'He was at the ceremony last night. He saw the girl.'

'He'll still say nothing because we won't tell him. Do you think the Russians would inform us of every murder?' Bias ran the waxy fingers of his gloved hand down the back of the Italian's legs, hamstrung so that the dead man had to drag them as he crawled.» Renko is not our colleague. We don't know really what he is. The fact that an investigator would come to Havana is a sign of something else going on. A better photograph of Pribluda is all I want from him.'

The photograph of Renko at the airport resided in her pocket. With all the confusion in the room there was still time to rediscover it.

She asked, 'Did Sergeant Luna ever show you a picture of Renko?'

'No.' Bias ran his hand up the dead man's arms.» Right-handed by the musculature. Lovely fingernails.'

A chevron of deep cuts down the dead man's back indicated that the attacker had stood over him and hacked right and left. Ofelia considered mentioning the two round bruises she'd found on Renko's arm, but it seemed somehow a breach of trust.

'Perhaps we should reexamine the dead Russian. Is it possible he was struck by lightning? It did rain that week.'

'Only there was no lightning on the bay. I'm ahead of you. I checked the meteorological record for lightning and the body for burns. Don't worry about Renko.' Bias pinched the arm for stiffness.» I have dealt with Russians. Every one, including women with whom I was intimate, was a spy. Each was the exact opposite of what he or she claimed to be.' He tucked a smile into his beard, and at that moment looked to Ofelia like a man too fond of his memories.» What does Renko claim to be?'

'A fool.'

'His case may be an exception.'

Bias turned the body onto its back. Loss of blood ended in stupefaction, and although his hair twisted in matted strips, the expression on the Italian's face was of someone yielding to sleep. Ofelia brushed hair from an oblong scab at the hairline.

'It looks like he bumped his head a few days ago,' Bias said.» The least of his problems now.'

'Who does he remind you of?'

'No one.'

'How would you describe him?'

Bias cocked his head like a carpenter delivering an estimate.» European, forty to fifty, medium height, hair black, eyes brown, high forehead, incipient widow's peak.'

'Renko?'

'Now that you mention it.'

They had to shift the body from the door as an investigating team from the ministry arrived, led by Captain Arcos and Sergeant Luna. Arcos gawked at the body on the floor. Luna went to the foot of the bed and stared down at Hedy. His skin went gray, and as his lips spread he breathed through his teeth while Ofelia delivered her statement. She wanted to ask, Where is your ice pick? Instead she slipped away while Bias took over.