Free Where There's Smoke by Mel McKinney

surprise, then relief. No, thought Raul. I should not have asked for more. This whole adventure had a noble purpose: to reunite with Rosa in Cuba and see that the needs of her mountain children are met. That portion of the one hundred thousand dollars left after paying the amigos represented Gessleman’s contribution to that worthy end. There was no place for greed’s contamination.
    Gessleman remained silent, his face now stoic.
    That’s right , thought Raul. You cannot let yourself show how my modest proposal has stunned you. Only, you forget, my friend, I grew up in a casino. I have watched thousands of faces at the gaming tables. I have seen masters conceal their good fortune when the cards
came their way. Do you think you can bluff me? I do not think so. I will give you the time you need to play your hand because I know what you are holding—nothing, except my one hundred thousand dollars and Don Salazarios. That is all I want from you .
    Finally Gessleman spoke, his voice cold and precise. “What guarantee do we have that this will be the end of it? None. We both know that. You expect me to hand over one hundred thousand dollars tonight, and I expect to hear from you again, the next time you and your pals need money.”
    Raul watched Gessleman fondle the Sancho Panza. Maybe the evening was pregnant with more opportunity than he had dared hope. It was time to reach for the rest. He drew deeply on his cigar and exhaled in a long, resigned blow.
    â€œSeñor Gessleman, it comes down to trust, good will and trust. To show my good will and that you can trust my word, I will make you an offer.” Raul lowered his eyes to the table.
    â€œI see that you know the Sancho Panza brand, one of my island’s finest. I still have three unopened boxes of them. After they are gone, this country will not see them, for how long?
    â€œAs it turns out there were three boxes of a brand called Don Salazario among the Kennedy cigars, an obscure brand made by my grandfather. They have sentimental value for me. My amigos who liberated the Kennedy cigars saw these and brought them back when they returned from Massachusetts. They are rightfully yours. But I am willing to trade one of these last three
boxes of Sancho Panzas to you for the three boxes of Don Salazarios. You can take the box of Sancho Panzas with you tonight. Agreed?”
    There. It was done. His conscience satisfied and the bait cast, all in a puff of smoke. Raul sat back, studying his quarry.
    Gessleman blinked, then smiled— an iguana’s smile , thought Raul.
    â€œNo,” Gessleman said. “But here’s what I will do. You want to show good will? Here’s your chance. Three for three. Trade me the three boxes of Sancho Panzas for your grandfather’s cigars.”
    Now it was Raul’s turn to conceal the dealer’s favor. He willed his face to stone. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he said, “Done,” not believing the fresh breeze of luck that had just blown his way. “And the rest … ?” he ventured.
    â€œOh, hell. Of course,” said Gessleman. “At this point, what choice do I have? Wesley, get one hundred thousand dollars out of that briefcase you’re carrying and give it to Señor Salazar.”
    Gessleman removed a gleaming platinum device that resembled a pen from his breast pocket. He pierced the end of the now naked cigar.
    â€œYou know something, Señor Salazar?” he said quietly. “I believe we’ll stay for dinner after all. It will give you time to get to know me a bit better. By the end of the evening, I believe you will appreciate that it would be very foolish of you to ask for any more money.” Gessleman’s eyes narrowed. “Foolish and unhealthy,” he added.
    Then, looking at his son-in-law, he said, “Wesley, would you quit staring and give the man his money?” He
turned back to Raul and leaned close. “Another thing. You