Havana Bay (23 page)

Arkady was more interested in pictures of boxers on
the wall.

"Kid Chocolate, Kid Gavilan, Teofilio Stevenson.
Mongo's heroes," Erasmo said.

Under a newspaper photo of Fidel in a sparring pose
with a tall, spindly fighter the caption read,
"El Jefe con eljoven pugilista Ramon Bartelemy."

"You said his name is Mongo."

Erasmo shrugged as if it were self-evident.» Ramon,
Mongo, same thing."

The picture of Cuban boxers in front of the Eiffel
Tower was identical with the one Arkady had seen in
Rufo's room, except now Arkady saw that next to Rufo was Ramon "Mongo" Bartelemy.

"If he's not here, where do you think he is?"

"I don't know. His tube is here. Arkady, do you
mind if I ask about the PNR? There were two stationed
across the street until the show at the
santero's.
I know they don't like Russians, but is there anything you want to tell me? After all, it's where I live too."

Arkady thought that was a reasonable request.»
Sergeant Luna might have something to do with
them."

"Luna. That Luna, the dark phase of the moon,
unseen but there. Yes, a bad man to cross and a very
bad man to embarrass before his friends. An exquisite
choice of enemy. And now the PNRs are gone. You may
want them in case he's coming back."

"That's occurred to me."

"You're so intent on finding Sergei?"

"Or what happened to him."

"You should start thinking about what's going to
happen to you. You have no authority and you don't
even pretend to speak the language, which is a relief.
You can't investigate, all you can do is get involved."

"In what?"

"Cuba, which is very complicated. But simply, if you
don't want your head in a bucket, stay away from Luna.
I tell you that because I feel a little responsible for last
night. I don't need any more regrets."

Arkady opened the shutter wider. Under a low sun,
waves pressed against an offshore breeze and two
neu
maticos
came into view riding the crown of a swell, each
in turn sliding up the incoming brow, sinking from
sight and reappearing on the next slope of water like
riders on submerged horses.» So, if Mongo's tube is
here, where is he?"

"He can still fish."

By the time Arkady and Erasmo returned outside the
neumaticos
were using short paddles to maneuver
around the breakwater. Green aerated waves churned
between the breakwater and rock. The fishermen had to
come in on one rush as much as possible and the
boulders struck Arkady as an excellent place to crack a
head.

"When does Mongo go out?"

"You never know.
Neumaticos
go out day or night.
They fish one stretch of the bay and then another. I
think you have to call fishing from an inner tube a feat
of improvisation. They can stay close to shore or go
miles out, where the charter boats are hooking marlin.
The boats don't like that, having a couple of poor
Cubans mess with their tourists."

"The
neumaticos
try to catch marlin?"

"They could. They're like buoys, they just drag
behind until a fish gets tired. A fish could tow them to
Florida, who knows? But they've got to get the fish
back, no? Would you like to land a marlin in an inner
tube? No. Another problem is barracuda because they'll
bite on anything. A barracuda on your lap isn't so much fun either. So, they take smaller fish. They do well,
especially at night, but then you have to take flashlights
and lamps, and at night the inner tubes attract sharks,
that's the part I wouldn't like. That's why
neumaticos
go in pairs, for safety."

"Always in pairs?"

"Absolutely, in case one gets sick or loses his fins. Especially at night."

 
"Do they have radios?"

"No."

"And what exactly could a
neumdtico
do while his
friend was being eaten by a shark?"

Erasmo let his eyebrows rise.» Well, we have a lot of
religions in Cuba to choose from."

What appealed to Arkady was the marginal aspect of
the fishermen, the way they folded into the motion of the sea, rose on the horizon and then slid from sight, their vanishing act. Lying back in their tubes, they
removed their flippers and sat up, paddles lifted. A still
space was followed by a trough sucking sand and then
a set of three waves gathering strength. Both men chose
the same climactic surge and stroked in deep pulls to
ride it around the breakwater and up the rocks. The nearer spilled, clutching his tube with one hand and
rocks with the other until he could scramble up on his belly. The second was an older man in a straw hat, and
he timed his landing to let the wave's momentum
smoothly lift him standing onto the coral, the brim of
his hat trembling raggedly in the breeze, shirt and pants
bleached, black shanks ending in feet gray with calluses.
He found a tide pool in which to deposit his catch while
he tucked his gear between the tube and the net that constituted his one-man craft. Despite the weight and
dripping of the inner tube balanced on his head, he
found a match to light the stub of a cigar in his mouth.

Arkady dug out the photograph of the Havana Yacht
Club for Erasmo to show him. The fisherman put his
finger on Mongo and pointed to the sky.

 
 
"Pe'cando con cotneta. Con cometa."

"It's what I thought." Erasmo pointed out to Arkady
a dot in the sky.» You see that kite? The old man says maybe he saw Mongo fishing over there. Even from the
air the industrious Cuban finds his fish."

Arkady thought of Pribluda's heart attack.» Could
you ask him if he ever fishes in the rain?"

"He says,'Sure.'"

"When there's lightning?"

A solemn shake of the head.» No."

"When was the last time there was lightning on the
bay?"

"He says,'A month.'"

They took the Jeep. Since the kite was too far over the
water to keep track of from the street, Arkady stopped
for another look. From a bathing stairway he saw about
two hundred meters farther on a thin figure in a cap
standing on steps and playing out a string rising with a
delicate curve that disappeared into the air. Perhaps
three hundred meters over the water a kite rode the
offshore wind. The Jeep honked.

"Sorry, but you should have seen them," Erasmo explained when Arkady returned to the car. Arkady
swiveled and saw a pair of long-legged blondes roller-
blading away.»
Jineteras
on wheels, a mechanic's
fantasy."

"We're looking for Mongo."

"Right. To fish with a kite you actually need two
lines," Erasmo said when they started driving again.»
One to the kite, one to the hook. The first line takes
the second one out, and when the kite is far enough to
reach the kind of fish you want, you jerk the second
line and it falls into the water."

"What about the charter boats below?"

"Richly amusing. They're playing Hemingway and
here's a hook dropping down from some poor Cuban bastard on the beach."

Even though Mongo was not in view of the street,
once they were close the kite string led them to two
lime-green beach houses attached like Siamese twins at
the second floor. The windows were boarded and weeds
grew on the roof. Arkady helped Erasmo into his chair,
and they moved through the walkway that ran between the houses to rocks sparkling with fish scales. A long
shovel stood, inserted by the blade between cement
stairs that had split. Reels of kite and hook cord spun
on the wooden shaft, feeding themselves so fast to the
outbound kite that they hummed. A green baseball cap
fluttered on the handle. Whether he had seen Mongo
or the shovel, Arkady wasn't sure. The car horn hadn't
helped.

"How could he disappear so quickly?" Arkady asked.

"He can be elusive. That's what they called him when
he was in the ring, the Elusive Mongo."

"Why would he run?"

"You'd have to ask him, but people stay away from
police investigations if they can."

"Would you know his cap?"

 
 
"Of course."

As Arkady reached for the cap a breeze flipped it
onto the water, where it floated in and out until an
undertow dragged it under. At the same time, the spools
on the shaft ran out and kite and hook cords flew into
the air and could have been strings to the sun for all
the chance of retrieving them.

It was January. In Moscow, the water would have
been frozen and he could have walked out and picked
up the hat, Arkady told himself. In Moscow, kites didn't
carry hooks, black dolls didn't run from house to house
and people might fall under wheels but they didn't turn into shovels, that was another difference.

 
Chapter Thirteen

Ofelia found Renko at the Malecon apartment. After he
placed a chair against the door he led her down the hall
to the office, where the computer monitor told a tale
that was sad but true.

American attempts on the life of the Cuban Head
of State have included the use of exploding
cigars, exploding seashells, poison pens, poison pills,
poison diving suits, poison sugar, poison cigars,
midget submarines, snipers, bounties. They have
employed Cubans, Cuban-Americans, Venezuelans,
Chileans, Angolans, American gangsters. Cuban
Security has investigated 600 plots against the Presi
dent's life. The CIA has tried to introduce hallucin
ogenic sprays into television studios where the
President was broadcasting and depilatory powders
to make his beard fall out. For these reasons, the
President continues to make use of a number of
secure residences and never announces his schedule
in advance.

"You found Pribluda's password."
"Wasn't that brilliant of me?" he said.» This was
entered January 5, the next to last file Pribluda entered, and I have to ask myself, what has this got to do with
sugar?"

"It's nothing that any Cuban doesn't know. The life
of the Comandante is always at risk."

"The day before he disappears, maybe the day before he dies, Sergei Pribluda gets the urge to write a short history of assassination attempts?"

"Apparently. He was a spy. Why are you interested?"

"I'm fishing with the Cuban method, setting hooks
everywhere."

Ofelia had showered at home and come in jeans, a
shirt tied at the midriff, sensible sandals, floppy straw
bag over her shoulder, but she maintained a professional attitude.» Did you find a photograph of
Pribluda for Dr. Bias?"

"No."

"But you have been busy." New and old maps of
Havana printed by the Ministry of Tourism, Rand
McNally and Texaco covered the desk.

"A cultural visit to the ballet, a pleasant drive on the
Malecon. You?"

"I have other cases, no?" She regarded Pribluda's
computer.» This machine is on Cuban territory."

"Ah, but the memory of this machine, that is
purely Russian." Like a virtuoso of the keyboard,
he exited the file, shut off the computer and, as
screen and room went dark, said, "Useless without the
code."

"You don't have the authority, the language or back
ground to investigate here."