Cuban Sun (8 page)

“Here’s the address. And here’s fifty. Hurry, please.”

He eyed the money. “Sorry miss, I have to follow the law, I could lose my license.” Sofia narrowed her eyes and jabbed another fifty at him.

Smiling, the driver folded the bills and peeled out onto Bayshore Drive. A few moments or an hour later, Sofia couldn’t be sure, she peered out of the grime streaked window of the cab. The driver repeated himself.

“This is it, lady.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, you gave me a hundred bucks for me to take you to the wrong place. Yeah lady, this is it.”

Sofia frowned at the driver and stepped out onto the cracked and crumbling sidewalk. She stood in front of a storefront whose red burlesque style letters read “Baroque”. She tried to look inside but the window was obscured by heavy, blood red curtains. Sofia stood outside the black door looking at the peeling paint while hastily tidying her hair. She didn’t know what kind of situation she would be walking into, but she wanted to look prepared for whatever it was. She glanced at her reflection in the window and then wished she hadn’t. While she did have an air of being put together, the swollen nose and bruising under her eyes would certainly attract attention.

She pushed open the door, and had to stand for a moment in the entryway while her eyes adjusted to the smoky dimness. She glanced around
Early Mexican Bordello must have been the design motif
, she thought. The small, low ceilinged room held a dilapidated but ornate heavy wood and brass bar, a few tables and stained red velvet stools. The walls seemed held together only by the old red velvet wallpaper, now brown with neglect. Sofia wondered if the place had ever been cleaned. Patrons, mostly men in various degrees of intoxication were starting to look around and Sofia took that as her cue to keep moving. She did not see Helena, Joe or Quint but spied a narrow hallway leading to what she assumed was another room in the bar.

Sofia quickly followed the hallway to the next room which was of similar quality, decoration and clientele except that the filthy chandeliers of the previous room had been replaced by fluorescent lighting here. Again, she did not find who she was looking for, and kept going through two more hallways and two more rooms. She was beginning to despair. This is more like a rabbit warren than a bar, she thought. Finally, in the fifth and what she hoped was the final room, she caught a glimpse of Quint’s copper streaked head facing her but bowed in conversation with Helena, Joe and two men. Both men appeared to be Hispanic. One of them wore a crisp white long-sleeved button up shirt with what looked to be a Hermes tie. She studied his face and recognized him as Quint’s dinner partner from the previous night. The other man more resembled the other clientele, dusty denim work shirt, holey jeans and steel toed construction boots.

Sofia stood assessing.
Do I go over there and interrupt? Do I wait here?
Both options, she decided, had downsides. She did not want to blurt out what she had found or what happened in front of people she didn’t know but also didn’t want to wait around alone which would invite unwelcome looks and conversation. As she took the first step toward the five-person group Quint looked up and almost looked back but did a double take. His eyes widened briefly in alarm; whether at her presence or at her damaged face, she did not know. He politely excused himself and Sofia was relieved that none of the others looked up from their conversation. He maintained a casual air as he walked toward her as if it were an everyday occurrence for him to talk to strange beat-up girls in dives like this. For all of her suspicion and anger, she had to admire his self-possession.

Quint didn’t speak but took her arm firmly in his and led her to a nook in the corner of the room. They sat on the same ripped red velvet stools she had seen in the other rooms of the bar. He peered into her face, and intensely worried expression spreading across his features. He still held her arm.

“Sofia, what the hell happened to you? Are you OK?” He crooked his index finger under her chin and turned her face this way and that squinting at her injuries. Despite her anger, she felt herself comforted by his touch.

Of course I’m not,
Sofia thought. She sidestepped by answering. “There was a break in on the
Mariana
. The guy gave me this.” She gestured to her swollen visage.

Sofia winced at the sudden
increase of force in Quint’s grip on her arm. He leaned in and said, “Is that all he did?” Sofia nodded. Quint loosened his grip and sighed, “Thank God. Did he say anything?”

“He said to tell my boss, ‘he doesn’t like to wait’.” As she spoke, she watched carefully for signs of reaction. The only thing she saw in Quint’s kind eyes was confusion and concern. “I take it that you don’t know what that means either?”

He shook his head, “No, but Joe might.”

Sofia related the description and the events briefly. Finally she said, “When I regained consciousness, the engine room door was still ajar…” She trailed off at the look he gave her. Not anger, or surprise but of amused knowing.

“So, that’s how you found us. I thought it must have been. All of our phones are off.”

She nodded. “Look,
I’m sorry Quint, it’s obvious that I wasn’t supposed to be in there but-”.

He held up a hand. “Sofia, it’s no big deal. We were going to tell you about it tonight. I know Helena left you a note about the offer.” His smile widened. “I told her you would have a million questions so she wanted to talk to you when we didn’t have a time constraint.”

Sofia was more than a little irritated at the look he was giving her. He seemed to think this was funny. She jerked her arm from his hand.

“Quint, who the hell are these people? Please don’t insult me by telling me they’re lawyers because that surveillance would be completely illegal. I can’t believe you would be involved in something like that. But I really don’t know what to think right now. I meet a bunch of rich Cuban-Americans who must somehow be connected to the car, then I get beat up by another wearing green fatigues and-”.

“Wait!” Quint cut her off. “He was wearing green fatigues?”

“Yeah, I-.”

“You didn’t mention that before.” Quint leaned forward again. “Tell me exactly what he looked like.”

She didn’t want to relive it but told him, shuddering as she began. As she spoke, he looked more and more concerned. When finished she said, “Do you know who it was?”

He shook his head. “I have a guess, but it’s only a guess. I’ll still need to ask Joe.”

She had enough of these guesses and not knowing and she was done. “Quint, tell me what the hell is going on right now or I’m getting on the first flight back to Charleston.”

He still looked deep in thought. “Quint!”

He started and then responded. “I heard you, but look, I can’t explain it now. We’re here on business and I have to get back.” He gestured to where the two Hispanic men were still deep in conversation with Joe and Helena.

Sofia infused as much disdain into her voice as possible. “They seem to be taking care of things, why can’t you explain?” She strove to keep her voice under control.

“This is a team, we support each other. I need to get back.”

Seeing the thunderous look on Sofia’s face, he relented. “Ok, like I said, we’ll tell you more tonight but come with me.” He took her hand to help her to her feet. She shook him off but followed to the knot of people who stopped and turned. Helena and Joe looked up but did not react which told Sofia either they had already spotted her or they were very cool under pressure.
Probably both,
she thought.

Quint introduced her to the two men. Turning first to the man who had been Quint’s elegant dinner partner he said, “Sofia, let me introduce you to Juan Carlos Perez.” Then, turning to the man who looked more in line with the bar’s patronage, said, “And Ignacio Jimenez”. Quint made the introductions in Spanish but Sofia had sufficient grasp of the language to understand most of what was said. Mr. Jimenez gestured to her face and asked Quint in a voice like dried corn husks, “Is she another one?” Quint shot Sofia an urgent glance, willing her not to ask “another what?” Sofia briefly returned the look as if to say “I’m not stupid, you know.”

Quint turned back to Ignacio and answered. “No, she is on our team to help you. She has just had an unfortunate accident.”
Well
, thought Sofia,
that was putting mildly
.
We’ll see if I’m really on your team after today
.

Jimenez nodded and grasped Sofia’s hand quick and hard. “Thank you. Thank you for your help.” came his fervent rasp. She squeezed his callused hand and nodded. Whatever his situation, she thought, he must be desperate. She could see pleading in his eyes.

Mr. Jimenez gave a weak smile as Mr. Perez spoke. “Mr. Jimenez, we don’t want to keep you any longer; it could be dangerous for you.” He took out a wad of bills. “Here, take this and go to the address I gave you. They’ll help you get a place and a job. Don’t contact your family for a couple of weeks, and that includes sending money. “That,” he gestured at the money, “Is to help
you
. Then you can help your family. It is possible that your family is being watched.” Ignacio Jimenez rose and seemed to debate taking the money, just looking at it. Helena stepped in.

“Please, Mr. Jimenez, your information has been so helpful and you put yourself at risk to do it. The least we can do is compensate you.” It worked. He slid the money into his boot glancing around to make sure no one but the five of them had seen. Then he shook each hand around the tight circle and left.

Mr. Perez did the same, adding to Joe, “Thanks, your help is appreciated.”

Joe shook his hand and said “Of course, and thank you too. We wouldn’t be this far along without you. This information will be extremely helpful.”

After Perez left, Joe scrubbed his hand over his face. Sofia thought all three of them looked exhausted. Sofia felt guilty for asking but took a breath and said, “I know you all must be extremely tired, but I need to know what’s going on and why I have this.” Pointing to her swollen and blotched face.

Helena sighed. She looked like she was about to drop but responded. “Yes you do. We were planning to talk to you more tonight but the events of the day have clearly altered things.”

Joe glanced down at his Rolex. “Five-thirty. I need a drink.” Joe moved away from the bar and examined his clothing as if checking for signs of contamination. “Let’s get out of this dump and go over to The Forge.”

Quint frowned slightly at Joe but made no other comment than to say “Happy hour and some dinner sounds great to me.”

Helena closed her eyes briefly as though relishing the thought of food. “I think we’re all reasonably presentable. Joe, get a cab for us dear.” She turned to Sofia as Joe moved ahead of them, “I hope that’s ok with you Sofia. It would have been fairly insensitive to drive the cars over here.” Before Sofia could respond, Joe shot back.

“And dangerous! Who knows what would have happened to them.” Helena scowled at Joe’s back and lowered her voice so Sofia had to strain to hear over the din of the street. “You’d never think that he’s known any different than he has now.” Sofia looked at Helena. The Irish face looked drawn and slightly paler than usual but her eyes sparkled and radiated excitement. Sofia found herself affected by them. She wanted to know what was going on, but Helena’s excitement drew her in, intrigued her, daring Sofia to be part of the adventure. It was becoming difficult to resist.

EIGHT

They arrived at The Forge having had little conversation in the taxi. Sofia guessed that they didn’t want to be overheard by the driver.

“Why did Joe choose this place?” Sofia was puzzled and asked Quint as they entered the bar area. The room walls were made of warm wood outlining graceful arches. The furnishings were impeccable but decidedly eclectic. While this glowed with energy and was certainly several sanitation grades above the other, it still didn’t seem like a place Joe would enjoy.

Quint lowered his voice. “Two reasons, one, he can feel like he’s young and hip and two, Veuve Clicquot happy hour!” Sofia’s eyes widened.

“Really? He struck me as more of a tequila kind of man.”

“Definitely. But Helena loves that champagne, and she loves him for remembering.” He smiled. “It doesn’t hurt that they do have amazing food and rare varieties of tequila of course.”

“Something for everyone, I guess” said Sofia.

“Let’s see if we can find something for you”, replied Quint, steering her with his hand on her lower back. The intimacy of the touch sent heat through her body.

Seated at a small walnut table, with their champagne and tequila, beautiful ceviche and orders in for an early dinner, Sofia told all of them what had transpired on the
Mariana
. She expected the memory to become more difficult with the telling, but to her surprise it became easier to handle. Though, Sofia had to admit that the Veuve Clicquot helped too. The soft bubbles numbed her bruised lips and the alcohol dulled her headache. She finished and looked up and said, “I can’t accept your offer without knowing exactly what happened and who you are.” The statement surprised her. Not the part about needing to know what was going on but that she was still considering their offer. After this afternoon she had meant to refuse all together but there was still a niggling part of her that wanted to know more. What was this about? What was the assignment? Who were these people? How did they operate? Would she like this kind of work?

Helena cleared her throat and looked at Joe. He put down shot of liquid gold and said, “We’re trying to help Mr. Jimenez, the man you met. He is from Santiago, Cuba. A few years ago the Cuban government saw their coffers dwindling and they needed a new income.”

Quint interjected. “Apparently tourism and cigars aren’t bringing them what they needed.” He nearly spat the words on the table as if his shot glass of tequila held the worm at the bottom of the bottle.