Free Havana Run by Les Standiford

Fuentes?” Deal’s gaze traveled to Tomás as he spoke. The expression on the bodyguard’s face suggested he shared the same sentiment. So much for questioning his grasp of English, Deal thought.
    Fuentes made the dismissive gesture with his hands again. “It’s simply a first installment. I told you it was my intention to make you a wealthy man.”
    “You’ll have to do better than that,” Deal said, tossing the envelope back on the desk. “I’d be interested to know who sent you here and exactly what services you think I can provide that are worth that kind of money.”
    “I’ll be frank with you,” Fuentes said, and for the first time his tone seemed sincere. “I’m here to take advantage of your pedigree. As you point out, you are not a political animal. Of the half-dozen builders of your rank in South Florida, you’re the only person who wouldn’t have thrown me out of his office the moment I broached the subject and the location of our undertaking. For another, your reputation is impeccable. In fact, it precedes you with our friends inside the ministries to the south. You may not have been aware of it, but your father had many influential friends in Cuba. And not all of them departed during the general Diaspora.”
    “So I’m an honest South Florida building contractor, and as far as Cuban politics goes, a don’t-care-ified one-eyed cat. That’s worth a million dollars?”
    “We think it is,” Fuentes replied. “You are able, honest, well respected, and you carry not an iota of political baggage. For what we hope to accomplish in the coming years, that makes you an extremely valuable person indeed.”
    “In other words, you’re looking for a front man.”
    “Nothing could be further from the truth,” Fuentes said. He pointed at the envelope lying between them. “I hope that the amount does not insult you.”
    Deal tried not to laugh. “I just take this million-dollar check down to the Bank of the Keys and cash it, that’s it? No contract, no guarantees, no nothing?”
    “Your acceptance of the retainer implies your partnership and willingness to represent our interests, of course,” Fuentes said. “Among other things, we’d want you to visit Havana, talk with some knowledgeable people, see with your own eyes the scope of what I have been describing to you.” He shrugged. “We want to be prepared to hit the ground running, as you say, the moment the political climate permits.”
    Deal stared at him, calculating. “If I were to do that, go over there and engage in any serious discussions about building anything in Cuba, and the word got back about what I was up to, I could forget about doing any more business in Miami-Dade County—they might even try to pull me off the port project.”
    Fuentes shrugged. “I understand there’s a certain amount of risk.” He paused and pointed to the envelope on Deal’s desk. “But it is my contention that the rewards far outweigh the downside. Besides,” he continued, gesturing at the site map of the Villas project that Deal had pinned to the wall behind his desk, “it’s my understanding that you’ve come to enjoy your time in Key West. Your work with us should carry no political ramifications in this area. And there’s no reason why you can’t continue the project you’ve already begun while our planning goes forward elsewhere.”
    “I still don’t know who you are or who you work for or with,” Deal said. “Do you really think I’d take this kind of money from someone I didn’t know?”
    “It happens all the time, Mr. Deal.”
    “Not in my life,” Deal said.
    “Simply more proof that you’re our man,” Fuentes said, rising from his chair. “I would have been surprised and even disappointed had you snatched this offer.” He leaned forward and spoke more softly, as if conveying some privileged message. “It is a delicate matter, of course, but I will see that you receive all necessary information regarding the nature and