Havana Bay

does not exist. People have been born and died, yes, but time has not passed because time demands fresh paint, new cars, new clothes. Or maybe war, one or the other. But not this, which is not dead or alive, which is neither. You're not drinking.'

'No.' The last thing he needed was Isabel and alcohol.

'Do you mind?' She took a cigarette.

'No.'

'The reason my father agreed to the coup in the first place was the assurances from his Russian friends that he would have their complete support. It wasn't his idea.'

'He should have known better.'

“I think I'm choosing more wisely.' She inhaled as if the smoke would travel the length of her body, exhaled and spun, her arms spread, so that the dress clung to her and smoke trailed behind.» I think we're the best. English dancers are too stiff, the Russians are too serious. We have the elevation and technique, but we are also born with music. There is no limit once I'm out, once I have my letter and my ticket.'

'The letter hasn't come.'

'It will. It has to. I told George we were looking into going back to Moscow together.'

'You and I?'

'Yes, wouldn't that be the simplest way?' Isabel came to rest against the coat and an ember from her cigarette spilled on the sleeve.» Are you married?'

Arkady brushed the ember off and took Isabel by the wrist. It was a slim wrist, an elegant wrist, but he led her to the door.» It's late. If something comes for you I promise I'll let you know.'

'What are you doing?'

'I'm saying good night.'

'I'm not done.'

'I'm done.'

He pushed her out and only had a glimpse of her in the hallway crushed as a moth before he shut the door.

'You son of a bitch,' she shouted through it.» You prick, cono. Just like your friend Sergei. All he wanted to do was talk about that stupid plot that got my father killed. You're just the same, another maricon. El bollo de tu madre.'

Arkady shot the bolt. 'I'm sorry. I don't speak Spanish.'

His way with women was astonishing, he thought. What a charmer. He wrapped himself in the coat and shivered. Why was everyone in Cuba warm except him?

It was midnight, and dark had overwhelmed the city when Arkady wasn't looking. A power outage arranged by Luna, or was his imagination expanding in the dark? There were no streetlamps on the Malecon, only a couple of faint headlights like the sort on luminescent fish found in an ocean trench. Although he latched the shutters closed and lit a candle, darkness continued to seep into the room with a solid, tarry quality.

A car horn woke him. The horn blared until he opened the balcony doors and saw that the morning had started hours before. The sea was a brilliant mirror to a huge sky, the sun high and shadows reduced to mere spots of ink. Across the Malecon a boy flipped small, silvery bait out of a net up to a partner standing on the seawall with a pole. Another boy gutted his fish on the sidewalk and threw the entrails up to a hovering gull. Directly below the balcony was a streamlined cloud of chrome and white, Hemingway's Chrysler Imperial convertible with George Washington Walls at the wheel and John O'Brien in a golf cap and Hawaiian shirt.

'Remember, we were going to talk about possible employment,' Walls called up.» And show you some famous sin spots.'

'You can't just tell me?'

'Think of us as your guides,' O'Brien said.» Think of it as a Grand Tour.'

Arkady looked to Walls for any sign that Isabel had reported her midnight visit and he looked to O'Brien for an indication that word of the AzuPanama papers reached him via Osorio, but all he saw shining up from the car were bright smiles and dark glasses. Employment in Havana? That had to be a joke. But how could he dare to miss learning more about AzuPanama and John O'Brien? Besides, he thought, what could happen in Hemingway's car?

'Give me a minute.'

The desk drawer had envelopes. Into one Arkady fit all his worldly evidence: Rufo's house key, Pribluda's car key, AzuPanama documents and the photo of the Havana Yacht Club. Arkady taped the envelope to the small of his back, put on his shirt and coat, a man equipped for all climates and occasions.

The car even rode like a cloud, the warm upholstery adhesive to the touch. Arkady noticed even from the backseat the push-button transmission, how could anyone miss that? They breezed along the Malecon while Walls gossiped about other famous cars, Fidel's penchant for Oldsmobiles and Che's '60 Chevrolet Impala. Arkady looked around.» Have you seen Luna?'

'The sergeant is no longer associated with us,' Walls said.

'I think the man's unhinged,' said O'Brien.

Walls said, 'Luna is one funky dude.' He dipped his glasses from his blue eyes.» When are you going to dump the coat?'

O'Brien said, 'It's like driving around with Abe-Fucking-Lincoln. It is.'

'When I get warm.'

'You read Hemingway in Russia?' Walls asked.

'He's very popular there. Jack London, John Steinbeck and Hemingway.'

'When writers were bruisers,' said O'Brien.» I'd have to say I think of The Old Man and the Sea every time I see the fishing boats go out. I loved the book and the film. Spencer Tracy was magnificent. A better Irishman than Cuban, but magnificent.'

'John reads everything,' Walls said.

'I love movies too. When I get homesick I put on a video. I have America on videotapes. Capra, Ford, Minnelli.'

Arkady thought of Vice Consul Bugai and the $5,000 deposit in Bugai's name at O'Brien's Panama bank.

'Do you have any Russian friends here?'

'There aren't that many. But to be honest I have to say I steer clear, as a precautionary measure.'

'Pariahs,' said Walls.

'The Russian Mafia would love to get in here. They're already in Miami, Antigua, Caymans, they're in the neighborhood, but Russians are such a sore subject with Fidel there's no point in being associated with them. But more than that, they're stupid, Arkady. No offense.'

'None taken.'

'A Russian wants money, he says, I'll kidnap someone rich, bury him up to his neck and demand a ransom. Maybe his family will pay and maybe they won't. A short-term proposition either way. An American wants money, he says, I'll do a mass mailing and offer an investment with an irresistible rate of return. Maybe the investment pays off or maybe it doesn't, but as long as I have lawyers those people will be paying me for the rest of their lives. After they're dead I'll put a lien on their estate. They'll wish I had buried them up to their necks.'

'That's what you did?' Arkady said.

'I'm not saying that's what I did, I'm saying what's done in the States.' He raised his hand and his biggest grin.» Not lying. I have testified in district court in Florida and Georgia, federal court in New York and Washington and I have never lied.'

'That's a lot of courts to tell the truth in,' Arkady said.

'The fact is,' said O'Brien, 'I prefer happy investors. I'm too old to be stalked by unshaven, angry men or have to duck subpoenas from men who can stand outside a door for the rest of their miserable lives. Hey, we're here!'

Walls swung across oncoming traffic to the curb of an airy high-rise hotel, an angled tower of blue balconies that nestled at its base the separate dome in mottled colors. Arkady had passed the hotel before without fully registering how its architecture was pure American fifties. And they'd arrived in the perfect car, gliding to a stop