Havana Bay

Perhaps she was unimpressed, he thought, because of the Cuban girl suspended in a hammock from a sailboat boom.

'What's so dangerous here?' Ofelia asked.

'I don't know. You've been here before?'

'Once or twice. You go ahead. I'm looking for someone.'

Among the sameness of fiberglass boats the Gavilan had a dark, distinctive silhouette, and Arkady picked it out at the slip Walls had been heading for when he was waved off by a harbor master yelling 'Peligroso!' at snorkelers. There were no swimmers in the water now, and Arkady couldn't see any problem. The seaplane tender nudged peacefully against the tire fenders of the dock while lines fed electricity from a shoreside outlet box over the boat's brass rail. No swimmers, no shouts, only the deep throbbing of a motor yacht taxiing down the canal.

He continued along the canal, seeing no obstructions in the water, no flotsam by the dock. A galvanized pipe led water to each slip; a foreign crew was washing down a three-story megayacht, spraying one another, drinking the water, so it was even potable. American boats in Cuba made for an interesting community, grandiose white palaces mixed in with raffish fishing boats mus-tached with stains, all bending the law by even being where they were. Arkady had no experience on yachts himself, but having spent some time in Vladivostok around factory ships and trawlers, he knew a little about bringing power on board, and what caught his eye about the waist-high electrical distribution boxes spaced along the dock of the Marina Hemingway was how few had ordinary outlets to plug into. Instead, a power line led from the box while another led from the boat, and where they met the lines were spliced and taped together, the connection protected from water by a clear plastic shopping bag taped at the ends. He worked his way to an empty outdoor bar at the far end of the dock. Fully half the hookups he saw on the way went through spliced and bagged electrical lines sitting in water between the hull of the boat and cement wall of the dock.

The transom of the Alabama Baron was smeared with fish guts and scales, although the jinetera in the sailboat's hammock didn't look like a fisherman to Ofelia. The girl had the Julia Roberts look from the film Pretty Woman, very popular in Cuba, tons of hair, myopic eyes, pouty lips, and she was watching a bracelet being sold on a portable television connected to a small satellite dish bolted to the dock. Ofelia recognized the Home Shopping Network, also very popular in Cuba among those with access to dishes. The woman on the television laid the bracelet across her wrist to let the light play on the stones. The sound was off, but the price flashed in the corner of the screen.

'That's beautiful,' Ofelia said.

'Isn't it? Good price, too.'

'Diamond?'

'Same as. Last week, they had a chain for the ankle with the same stones. You think that's a good price, but wait.' The woman on the television spread the bracelet on a bed of velvet and added a pair of earrings.» See, I knew. You order too soon and you don't get the earrings. You have to know to wait and then pick up your phone and give them your credit-card number and the bracelet's yours in two days.' Julia Roberts glanced over.» You're new here.'

'I'm looking for Teresa.'

The television woman brushed back a mantle of hair to model the earrings, left, right, frontal. Another girl in a top and thong came out of the cabin. Her hair was almost as short as Ofelia's but peroxided blonde.» You know Teresa?'

'Yes. Luna told me she would be here.'

'You know Facundo?' The girl in the hammock sat up.

'I met him.'

'Teresa's real upset,' the blonde knelt by the rail and whispered.» She was next door when Hedy got her throat slit. They were close.'

'She got run in, too,' Julia Roberts said.» Some police bitch gave her a tough time. For helping feed her family, you know.'

'I know,' said Ofelia.

'Teresa's scared,' the blonde said.» She went home to the country. I don't think she's going to be here for a while.'

'Is she afraid of the sergeant?' Ofelia asked.

'You met the sergeant, what do you think?' Julia Roberts said.» With all due respect, what do you think? I just know him, but Teresa and Hedy were his private girls, understand?'

The blonde checked out Ofelia's vital points.» Aren't you a little old to be doing this? What are you, twenty- four, twenty-five?'

'Twenty-nine.'

'Not bad.'

'I-am-trying-to-sleep,' a deep voice in American came from the bowels of the sailboat, and a form struggled up the galley steps. It had to be the Alabama baron himself, Ofelia thought. He wore a Houston Astros cap, shorts and a Hawaiian shirt that couldn't cover a sunburned belly that he salved by rolling a can of beer over its expanse. He loomed over the two Cuban girls on his boat.» Talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-Jesus-Kayrist-you-women-talk. Whoa,' he said as he caught sight of Ofelia, 'the talent contest may still be open.'

'She's with me,' Arkady said. He had worked his way back along the dock to the tender and the sailboat, berthed one behind the other.» We were just admiring the boats.'

The baron glanced around at the beer cans on his deck until he noticed that Arkady meant the Gavilan.

'Yeah, sure, that's a fucking classic. A genuine rumrunner, everything but the bullet holes.'

Rumrunner? Arkady liked that. That smacked of Capone.

'Fast?'

'I'd say so. You're talking a V-12, four hundred horses, sixty knots, faster than a torpedo boat. 'Cept with a woodie you spend all day at the dock sanding, varnishing, polishing.'

'That's a drawback,' Arkady agreed.

'No time to fish. Of course, they do all the upkeep for him here. He gets special treatment. Where you from?'

'Chicago.'

'Really?' The baron digested that.» You fish?'

'I wish I could. I don't have enough time.'

'Locals keeping you otherwise occupied?' The baron's eye returned to Ofelia, who kept her face blank of comprehension.

'Busy.'

'Well, it's a fish or fuck world, it really is. I'll tell you what, the last thing in the world I want is lift the embargo. Cuba is cheap, beautiful, grateful. Take away the embargo and it'll be 'nother Florida in a year. Hell, I'm a man on a pension, I'd hardly be able to afford Susy here.' He pointed with his free hand to the girl in the hammock, whose eyes had returned to the shopping network and a new item, a clock in a crystal elephant. Arkady remembered Rufo's list of names and phone numbers. Susy and Daysi. Did the other girl peroxide her hair for a daisylike effect? Arkady could tell that Ofelia had caught the name too.

'What do you mean, 'special treatment'?' he asked the baron.

'The owner of that boat is George Washington Walls. Their hero. Hey, I was a fireman twenty years, I know about heroes. Heroes don't put a gun to no pilot's head.'

'You're not just...?' Arkady raised his eyebrows delicately.

'Racist? Not me.' The baron waved his arm toward the jineteras and Ofelia as proof.

'For example, then?'

'For example.' The baron was hot now. He hung on to a guy wire for balance and pointed to the hookup servicing the tender.» Check out the power lead installed specially for him just yesterday. Now, look at mine.' Where the Alabama Baron's lead dipped into the water was the typical splice in a bag that was filthier than the others.» I understand they're clever devils here and they got American boats and