Naked in Havana (26 page)

Mendes put away his stethoscope and shook his head. “I’ve been warning him for months to stop his smoking and drinking. I knew this would happen.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s a heart attack,” he said. “There is not much I can do for him here, we have to get him to a hospital.”

“Shall I call an ambulance?”

Mendes sighed. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want him to die here or die there, señorita. The hospitals are overrun with wounded soldiers being brought in from the front, they always bring them into the city at night so no one can see them. And not all of the staff are there anymore, already some of the doctors have fled. It is chaos. Your father needs urgent attention and I don’t know if he’s going to get it tonight. Amancio has picked the worst possible time to have his heart attack. Not that there is ever a good time.”

“But we have to get him to the hospital. What choice do we have?”

“You are right, I suppose. There is no choice.”

Mendes picked up the telephone. There was no answer. He tried again. Finally he slammed the receiver down in its cradle. “Let’s put him in the car,” he said. “We’ll have to drive him ourselves.”

“Wait, I have a better idea,” I said. “Will you stay here with my father, please? I won’t be long.”

The better idea lived a few blocks away on Calle 12. I ran out of the house and jumped into the Bel Air and drove straight over.

The streets were eerily deserted—there were no cars, no pedestrians, no police. Nothing. As I was turning into Calle 12 a man jumped out in front of me and I had to slam on the brakes. He stood there swaying in the headlights. He was old and skinny and unshaven and his shirt was torn. He was clearly drunk. I pounded my fist on the horn and then got out, grabbed him and threw him out of the way. He lay in the gutter, cackling.

The whole city had gone mad.

Reyes was getting ready to leave.

As my headlights swung into the drive I saw him tossing two suitcases into the back of his Impala. He didn’t look at all panicked; he might have been about to go on annual vacation.

He shielded his eyes from the headlights and strolled up to the driver’s side. “Well, hello princess, what are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

“You look like you’re in a hurry. What’s wrong? Are you running away from one of your lovers?”

“Papi’s sick. Please, Reyes.”

“How sick is he?”

“Very. I’m afraid he’s going to die.”

“He didn’t pick a very good night to get ill. This place is going to get crazy very quickly. Where is he?”

“He’s at home, the doctor says he’s had a heart attack. He’s afraid that if he goes to the hospital he won’t make it. That’s when I thought of you.”

“Well, I can do a lot of things, but I don’t have healing powers.”

“No, but I’ll bet double or nothing that you have a plane waiting somewhere ready to get you out.”

He grinned. “That’s very perceptive of you.”

“Please,” she said. “Don’t make me say it. Just name your price.”

“The going rate on Pan Am is fifty-nine dollars. I’ll give you a fifty-eight dollar discount because you’re friends. You better park the car over there and jump in mine. Do you even have a license for this?”

The news had started to spread. A beaten up convertible was touring the streets, the driver had a megaphone and he was shouting that the dictator Batista had fled. Long live the Revolution! People were flooding into the street.

“We don’t have long,” Reyes said.

“Where’s your plane?”

“Out at the airport. Don’t worry, he won’t leave before I get there. I’m the one who’s paying him.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.
Dios mio
, don’t let him die!”

“Do you have money?”

I hadn’t even thought of that. “Papi has a safe, but I don’t know the combination. I have a little money in my room, and there’s Mama’s jewels.”

“Better grab what you can. You don’t know how long you’re going to be away for.”

“We can come back when he gets better. He will get better, won’t he?”

“I’m not God, princess, it’s not up to me. Who’s going to look after the house?”

“We have a housekeeper. Ramon can keep an eye on the club.” I was shaking. This was all happening too fast. I didn’t even know if Papi would still be alive when we got back.

I couldn’t think. All I could do was pray.

Chapter 36

Papi was still unconscious. Reyes winced when he saw him. “He doesn’t look too good.”

“He’ll be all right, he’s a Fuentes. He’s tough.”

“If you say so,” Reyes said.

He helped Doctor Mendes carry Papi to the car. I went upstairs and grabbed as many things as I could and threw them in a bag; Mama’s jewellery, some cash, some clothes. I was too panicked to think. I ran back downstairs, hugged Maria and told her we would return as soon as we could. Then I jumped into the back of the Impala, put Papi’s head on my lap and told Reyes to drive as fast as he could.

I didn’t even look back.

It was at least an hour before dawn but people were pouring onto the streets, they were singing and cheering and shouted at us as we drove past. It all seemed good natured enough, for now. People honked their car horns and others were banging sticks on buckets and cymbals, making as much racket as possible.

Reyes twisted around. “How’s he doing?”

“The same.”

I heard what sounded like fireworks coming from the Parque Central. “It’s late to be letting off fireworks,” I said.

“That’s a machine gun, princess.”

People had started taking out their fury on the parking meters on the Rampa. Batista’s brother-in-law hadn’t only skimmed the gaming machines, he had used the meters as a personal banking account, and now the
Habañeros
were taking to them with hammers, lead pipes, and baseball bats. They didn’t seem to care about the money in them. This was just revenge.

Others were storming the corner bodegas and dragging the slot machines into the street, smashing them with sledgehammers. Tires had been set alight in the middle of the street. I saw a huge crowd of men headed down the Prado towards the Nacional and the Capri, singing and wielding sticks.

Kids were throwing stones and bottles at every window they could see.

“The casinos are next,” Reyes said. “We don’t want to be here in another hour. This is going to get ugly.”

We passed the house where Colonel Estevez lived. The green uniformed soldiers that usually guarded the wrought iron gates were gone. They were skewed back on their hinges, and I saw people running out with lamps, air conditioners, curtains, even with doors they had ripped off their hinges. I supposed Estevez was already on his way to Santo Domingo with his daughters.

Someone threw a Molotov cocktail and there was a roar of flame from one of the windows as it exploded.

“Did you know Batista was going to leave tonight?”

He nodded. “Maybe.”

“Was that a sixth sense?”

“You know they were planning to kill Batista?”

“The rebels?”

“No, Lansky and Salvatore. They knew Batista couldn’t beat Fidel, and they wanted to get someone in who could.”

“But I thought they were in this together?”

“Lansky had to do business with him, but he hated the guy so bad it made his teeth ache. He said he was a shark, and coming from Lansky, that’s something. They were sick of paying him off.”

“So why didn’t they do it?”

“They ran out of time. The Americans pulled the plug on him, the Limeys wouldn’t sell him more planes. It was all over quicker than anyone thought.”

“So you knew about this?”

“I keep my ear to the ground. I find that it pays. Yesterday I called a guy I know in Miami--he has his own charter company--I paid him a few bucks to bring his plane over tonight.”

We were headed out of town toward the airport. Reyes swore and slammed his foot on the brake. A Mercedes was skewed across the road in front of us and there was a crowd milling around it. They pulled a couple in evening dress out of the car, tore the woman’s jewels off her neck, made the man hand them his jacket, his watch, even his trousers. Others dragged their suitcases out of the boot. There was money all over the road.

Reyes was about to get out of the car. I put a hand on his arm. “Isn’t that one of Batista’s ministers?”

“You’re right. It’s Menendez.”

“Just drive around, Reyes. Please. Help my father. They’re not worth it.”

They had Menendez on the ground now, several of them started beating him. One of them broke away and ran toward our car. Reyes put his foot to the floor and drove straight at him, he slammed into the bonnet and bounced over the roof.

And then we were past them and on the way to the airport.

I turned around and looked behind us. There was a glow above the city. Something was burning.

I hoped it wasn’t Papi’s fig tree.