Escape to Havana Page 4

  He stared at the house for an awkward moment before recognizing the part he was being asked to play. “Of course.”

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Saini said, leading the way toward the house, tugging Charlie past Ruiz. “So nice to see you again, Señor Ruiz.”

  They strolled across the patio and inside the drawing room of the rambling villa, where pockets of guests stood around chatting. They stopped in front of a large painting.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Saini whispered, withdrawing her arm from Charlie’s. “It was terribly rude of me, but I’m afraid Mr. Ruiz’s reputation precedes him.”

  “My pleasure,” was all Charlie could think of saying. He didn’t really know what Saini’s remark meant, and he didn’t much care, but he was missing the sensuous feeling of her soft, warm skin on his. She was even more beautiful in the muted light of the drawing room.

  “I suppose you haven’t had a chance to do much in the way of consular work yet?” she asked, apparently keen to gloss over the reasons for her improvised escape.

  “No, not really. I’ve been focused on getting my bearings, so far. I’m sure you have a wealth of experience, though. How long have you been here?”

  “Almost three years. I meant what I said earlier, about the work. It really has been worthwhile.”

  “You must be nearing the end of your posting, then?” A waiter passed by and they exchanged their empty champagne glasses for full ones. “Will you go back to India?”

  “I haven’t really decided. I was considering something in South America,” she said, trailing off. “What about you, Charlie? What brought you to Havana?”

  “Mmm,” Charlie mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of champagne while considering his answer. He knew the truth was out of the question, and decided to keep things vague. “I was looking for a change, really. I know it sounds a bit corny.”

  “I don’t think it’s corny at all,” Saini said, with a genuine smile. Charlie was still considering pinching himself as he stood next to this exquisite woman in the opulence of the ambassador’s drawing room, sipping champagne and chatting, when a familiar voice brought his dreaming to an abrupt end.

  “Charlie. Good to see you. Having an enjoyable evening, I hope?”

  “Oh, hello, Ambass— Michael. Yes, thank you.”

  “I’d like you to meet my wife, Katherine,” Stewart said, as Charlie came face to face with the tall, graceful woman with an intelligent sparkle in her eyes at Stewart’s side. “Charlie’s our new MCO,” Stewart added, pausing as he glanced at Saini.

  “Oh, this is Amirjit Saini,” Charlie said, hoping he got it right — he had never been good with names. “Meet Ambassador Michael Stewart and Katherine Stewart. Amirjit’s with the Indian embassy.”

  “So, you’ve just joined us, then?” Katherine Stewart asked him, after exchanging greetings with Saini.

  “Just got here on Monday, yes.”

  “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself and not letting him work you too hard,” she said, laying a slender, jewel-encrusted wrist on her husband’s arm.

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “Charlie was good enough to show me around the inside a little,” Saini said, looking around the room. “It really is a beautiful house, but I must be getting back outside. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Charlie’s got the place around the corner,” Stewart said to his wife, as they watched Saini leave. “So we’re practically neighbours.”

  “It’s a very nice neighbourhood,” Charlie remarked, wondering if being so close to the official residence might be a liability. Then again, it wasn’t as if the houses were in sight of each other.

  “You’ve got your family with you, then?” Katherine Stewart sipped her champagne.

  “Charlie’s flying solo,” Stewart said, as Charlie noticed a slight change in his wife’s expression.

  “I’m divorced,” he felt the strange need to say.

  “In that case …” Her smile returned. “Havana’s just the place for you. Just watch out for the staff,” she added, a frown appearing at edges of her pert mouth. “The locals will be falling over themselves when they find out there’s an unattached man in town.”

  “Really, Katherine,” Stewart scoffed, as Charlie tried to work out whether she was joking or not. He smiled anyway.

  “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  “Isn’t that…?” Stewart began, before his wife followed his line of sight and finished his sentence for him.

  “Hector Garcia. Yes. And he’s looking bored. I’d better get over there. It was so nice to meet you, Charlie. Enjoy yourself.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, too,” he said, as Katherine Stewart flitted gracefully across the drawing room toward the patio.

  “He’s in charge of Havana’s protected buildings,” Stewart said, as they watched his wife greet the Cuban official with an elegant embrace. “Katherine’s been after him for weeks to let her hold a reception for one of her clubs in a heritage building near the Cathedral.” He took a sip of champagne before adding: “And she has a habit of getting her way.”

  “She’s certainly very charming,” Charlie said.

  “Relentless, actually,” Stewart replied. “Poor Hector doesn’t know when to throw in the— Oh, look who it is. Come with me.”

  Charlie was halfway across the room, following Stewart’s long strides, when he realized they were headed toward Gustavo Ruiz, who was standing alone by the pool munching on a canapé.

  “Buenas tardes, Gustavo.”

  Ruiz’s smile at meeting the ambassador seemed to fade when he noticed Charlie standing next to him.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Charlie Hillier.”

  “Yes,” Ruiz said, shaking his hand. “We have met already this evening.”

  “Well then,” Stewart continued. “The first of many meetings, I’m sure, on the way to securing a site for our new embassy.”

  “I’m looking forward to working with you on that very important file, Mr. Ruiz,” Charlie said, though Ruiz’s thin smile was less than encouraging.

  “There is much work to do, Señor Hillier,” he finally said, after an awkward silence.

  “Well, we’re certainly keen to get started.” Stewart plucked a caviar-laden cracker from a passing tray. “These are quite good. You should try one.”

  Ruiz nodded, taking a bite. “Almost as good as what the Russians once served.”

  “Times certainly have changed,” Stewart said, waving off the tray. Charlie had driven by the Russians’ massive and largely deserted diplomatic site out in Miramar and imagined they must have had quite a presence in Havana in their day. He wasn’t sure whether Ruiz was dissing the caviar or just making conversation. If it was meant as a dig, Stewart was unfazed, and continued to chat easily with Ruiz, while Charlie decided to watch in awe as Stewart gradually eroded Ruiz’s gruff façade with a subtle combination of charm and humour. He was caught off guard when the ambassador suddenly patted him on the shoulder.

  “Listen to me, going on. Charlie here is keen to fill you in on our property requirements, Gustavo, and I see Katherine is looking for me.”

  Charlie struggled to think of something insightful to say, as Stewart slipped away and Ruiz sipped his wine for a moment, before breaking the silence himself.

  “How long have you been in Havana?”

  “Just a week.”

  Ruiz nodded, as though he understood. His dark eyes were making Charlie increasingly uncomfortable, and as a nervous reaction, he began rattling on about his flight from Canada, the weather there, and similar nuggets of information that were obviously of no interest to Ruiz. While he babbled, his mind was imagining Ruiz’s position in the diplomatic property program as a front for his real role in Castro’s secret police, tasked to add to an already thick file they had been gathering on a certain Charlie Hilli
er.

  “So, you are in charge of property matters for the embassy?”

  “Hmm?” Charlie was absorbed by the image his mind had conjured of Ruiz standing over him in some dingy basement interrogation cell, waving glossy pictures of his ex-wife wrapped around Lars the Swede. Then he remembered Ruiz had asked him a question.

  “Yes … I’m in charge of property.”

  “You don’t like your current location?”

  “Oh, it’s a wonderful location,” Charlie said, quickly. “It’s just that we’re at capacity. Beyond it, really.” Ruiz nodded. “And your …” He paused to think of the right word, though his English was excellent. “… personal needs have been met, I hope?”

  It took Charlie a second to realize he was referring to his new house. “Oh, yes. Yes, it’s very nice. Near here, actually.”

  Ruiz seemed impressed. “I know it well, then. You are very fortunate.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me. I haven’t actually moved in yet, though.”

  Ruiz set his glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “I have another engagement this evening, Señor Hillier, so I must leave now. We shall meet soon to discuss your embassy’s needs, yes?”

  Does that mean there is a site? Charlie wanted to ask, but he decided not to push his luck, and fumbled instead for his business card. “I look forward to hearing from you,” he said, before Ruiz set off toward the living room. He was about to head over to the buffet table when Landon appeared out of nowhere.

  “How did that go?”

  “Okay, I guess,” Charlie replied, though he wasn’t sure he had made any actual progress. He decided to concentrate on the positive. “He wants to have a meeting.”

  “Did he mention a site? Something on Fifth Avenue, maybe?”

  “Sorry.” Charlie shook his head. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see. What was all that about, with Saini?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Landon was grinning.

  “She ditched me in the drawing room, as soon as Stewart and his wife showed up. Does she have some history with Ruiz?”

  “I don’t know. Ruiz has a reputation as a bit of a player. That much I do know. They must have crossed paths before. Maybe he made a move on her.”

  “He seemed to know all about my SQ,” Charlie added.

  Landon shrugged. “That’s his job.”

  “I just thought it was a bit … odd.”

  “Havana’s a small place, Charlie. And the diplomatic community’s even smaller. Everyone knows everyone. But it’s nothing to be concerned about,” he added, patting him on the shoulder. “Speaking of your place,” Landon continued, “I talked to the electrician this afternoon.”

  “You mean the guy who was supposed to be there this morning?”

  Landon shrugged. “He had some excuse or other, but the bottom line is, I don’t know if we can count on him to get it done any time soon.”

  “Maybe I should do it myself,” Charlie said, omitting to mention that his previous experience in electrical home repair was limited to installing a very standard furnace thermo­stat — a job he had botched so badly that he had almost burned the house down. It had quickly become Sharon’s favourite dinner party anecdote, and Charlie had always laughed along. It didn’t seem as funny now, somehow.

  “Or you could just leave it,” Landon said, oblivious to the dark cloud that had just parked itself over Charlie’s head. “I could put it on the to-do list for the next time one of our maintenance guys comes down from Ottawa. As long as you don’t mind not having any lights in the basement.”

  “No problem,” Charlie muttered, taking a slug of champagne and enjoying the growing buzz it was giving him. He had no idea when the next scheduled maintenance visit was, and he really didn’t give a shit. He didn’t plan on spending any time in the basement, anyway.

  “I figured you’d want to get in there ASAP,” Landon said. “So I arranged for Carlos to help us with getting your crates over there from the embassy tomorrow. It shouldn’t take us long, if you’re up for it.”

  Charlie’s cloud dispersed at the news. “You don’t have to do that, on Sunday no less.”

  “I’ve got no other plans,” Landon said, shrugging his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

  Charlie set down his end of a crate and mopped his forehead with the back of his arm. “That’s it.”

  Carlos gently deposited the other end of the crate on the dining room floor and smiled. “You need a cerveza, Charlie.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Landon said as he arrived behind them and set a cardboard box down on top of one of the crates.

  “I wish I had some, but—”

  “I got you a little housewarming present,” Landon said, pulling a six-pack of Cristal out of the top of the box.

  “You think of everything,” Charlie said, as they made their way out to the backyard. He and Landon leaned over the side of the pool and splashed cool water over their faces, while Carlos sat in the sun, a little grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

  Arranging their chairs poolside, the three opened their beers and Carlos raised his in a toast.

  “To your new casa.”

  “Thanks for helping me move in, guys,” Charlie said, taking a sip of the beer. It was like liquid gold in the midday sun.

  “So, did you enjoy yourself last night?” Landon asked.

  “Yeah, it was nice to meet some people,” Charlie replied. “Martina seems very nice,” he added. He had noticed she and Landon were both gone by the time he had left for the hotel, and he was still trying to figure out whether they had left together.

  “I dated her for a while, a few months back,” Landon said, sipping his beer. “We’re still friends, but that’s it. So if you’re interested …”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, but she sure is attractive,” Charlie said. “And her friend, from the Indian embassy …”

  “Amirjit. Isn’t she something?”

  “She is beautiful.” Carlos was nodding.

  Landon looked surprised. “I didn’t know you knew her, Carlos.”

  “I make it my business to know all of the beautiful women in Habana.” He grinned as he savoured a mouthful of beer. “I give her a ride back to her embassy from that conference last week.”

  “I think she’s got a boyfriend,” Landon said.

  Carlos frowned. “No boyfriend.”

  “How do you know?”

  Carlos gave Landon a broad smile. “Maybe she tell you yes, because she knows you are a wolf.”

  “You’re messing with me, aren’t you, Carlos? I can always tell.”

  Carlos’s face was an inscrutable mask as he turned to Charlie.

  “Maybe she likes her men a little more … how you say?”

  “You mean older?” Charlie was grinning.

  “Invite her to your new casa,” Carlos waved his bottle toward the house, “and find out.”

  “Now there’s a plan,” Landon agreed. “A little housewarming party.”

  They lounged in the sun and chatted for a while before Landon drained his beer, got up, and stretched. “Well, Charlie, can you handle the rest on your own?”

  “You bet. Thanks again, guys, really.”

  “No es problema.” Carlos patted him on the back.

  Seeing them out, Charlie returned to the living room and the assortment of crates and boxes scattered over the hardwood floor. He would unpack for a while, then go for a swim. There was no reason to push himself. He had all the time in the world.

  Charlie sat alone by the pool puffing on a cigar, its aromatic smoke dancing in the night air as he dangled his feet in the cool water. The sound of Latin music wafted out from a neighbouring yard, interspersed with peals of high-pitched laughter. He watched the smoke waft up into the night sky, and marvelled at the bright ca
nopy of stars overhead as he contemplated his first week in Havana.

  Landon and the rest of his embassy colleagues seemed nice, as did Ambassador Stewart. As for the details of his new job, Charlie considered himself a quick study. What he lacked in experience he would make up for easily enough with a little hard work. Even the previous evening’s reception had been all right, once he’d gotten over his initial discomfort. He imagined himself a year from now, jumping easily from one conversation to another and allowed himself to think briefly of Sharon, if only to assure himself that wherever she was sleeping, it wouldn’t be anywhere half as nice as his new villa in Jaimanitas.

  With the first week under his belt, Charlie was beginning to feel better about the decision to come to Cuba. He would have to call Winston Gardiner and thank him again for the opportunity. He took a long pull on the cigar and focused on the unfamiliar sights and sounds brought to him on the warm Caribbean breeze. Ottawa, and the unpleasant memories it evoked, seemed distant indeed, and for the first time in months things were finally looking up.

  He should have known better.

  Chapter 4

  Charlie stood over the coffee maker, waiting for the last of the water to run through. It had been after midnight before he had sprinkled his things among the existing furniture at the house, but his excitement at getting into his new place, combined with this morning’s invigorating dip in the pool, had overcome any fatigue. Even his office was looking better today, with the sun streaming through the opened shutters and falling on the two potted plants his assistant had presented him with that morning. Charlie didn’t usually go for office foliage, but he had to admit they brightened up his neatly arranged credenza, and it was a nice gesture from his assistant, Alena.

  Returning to his office with a fresh cup of coffee, Charlie scanned his email, then turned his attention to the file on his desk. His second consular case involved another Canadian tourist who’d had a little too much fun in Havana. The auto-parts salesman from Edmonton had spent the night in custody after what the police report described as an “altercation” with a prostitute. Not surprisingly, his story was different, but regardless of what had actually happened, the passport had been misplaced somewhere along the way. Charlie was trying to guess which parts of which version of the story were closest to the truth when his phone rang.