“First of all, let me thank you for accommodating us in your busy schedule. I understand you will be out of the country for a couple of weeks, and I hope you will agree that the presence of the Ottawa-based members of our team here today is an indication of just how serious we are about this site.” Ruiz smiled and his associates nodded as the translator repeated Charlie’s opening address in Spanish. “Our hope is that over the next two days we will come to an agreement on the major terms of the transaction, not just for the acquisition of the land, but for our ongoing partnership throughout the development of this important project,” Charlie continued, mentally checking off the boxes of the items that they had all agreed upon at the morning’s pre-meeting that he was to cover in his opening address.
He continued, with frequent interruptions to allow for translation, and after about ten minutes, it was Ruiz’s turn to speak. He led off with similar platitudes about the desire to make the deal happen, and about the abundance of cooperation and goodwill at the table, to which everyone on the Canadian side of the table nodded and smiled. His next statement, which Ruiz chose to utter in English, took Charlie by surprise. “And before we move on to the main terms for agreement, I would like to say how sorry I was to hear of the unfortunate events at your residence the other night, and that we are working very hard with the diplomatic police service to get to the bottom of it.”
“Thank you,” Charlie said, as Gray and Redden looked on in surprise. He was wondering whether Ruiz was going to say more about the break-in when a woman arrived with a large tray of coffee and water.
As the cups were deposited in front of them, Ruiz pulled out a binder of photocopied documents and set it on the table. He began speaking in Spanish, and Charlie understood enough to know that he had moved back to the topic of the land. When Ruiz had finished, the translator took over, explaining that the documents were copies of the title report on the land, as requested by Gray. Charlie gave her the floor and she began talking about legal issues related to the land. Ruiz, in turn, deferred to his own counsel, and the two lawyers exchanged questions for a few minutes until they both seemed satisfied with the process that would be required before the deal could close.
As he sat there listening to the exchange and looking casually back and forth between Ruiz and his lawyer, Charlie noticed a little smile on Ruiz’s face as Gray explained why an independent environmental assessment would also be necessary.
“We understand,” Ruiz said, holding up a hand to his own lawyer and re-inserting himself into the conversation. “You need to be assured that there is nothing … how do you say … unsavoury on the grounds.”
“Exactly,” Gray said.
“Or under them,” Ruiz added, looking at Charlie, who was frozen by the remark, though his face remained passive. “Like someone who buys a house, only to find something nasty buried underneath,” he added, looking back at Gray and smiling.
Charlie looked at his hands and felt his chest constrict.
As the legal discussion continued, Charlie looked up expecting to find Ruiz staring at him, but instead the man was sipping his coffee and listening intently to Gray. When the title issues had been resolved, Ruiz broached the topic of price, and Charlie was glad that Redden was handling that one. He was barely listening as Ruiz and Redden put forward their respective positions to open the negotiations. He was too busy recalling all of the uncomfortable moments he had experienced over the past couple of days, from familiar cars in his rear-view to familiar faces in restaurants, and replaying them all in light of Ruiz’s comment.
Charlie said his final goodbyes to the protocol officer and got into the embassy van. The driver had barely slid the back door shut, with Charlie still settling himself in his seat, when Gray spoke. “What was all that about your house?” she asked as the van pulled away from the curb.
Charlie turned to face her and noticed Redden was looking on with interest from the back row. “It’s no big deal. Just a break-in. It happens.”
“Don’t you have guards?” Redden asked.
“Yeah. They’re nice enough guys, but they’re probably more interested in catnapping than watching my house.”
“That must be a bit unsettling,” Gray remarked, concern showing on her face where Charlie thought he had seen bare curiosity just a few seconds earlier.
“Yeah, especially with that business with the woman from the Indian embassy,” Redden added from the back seat. “They don’t think …”
“No, they don’t think it’s related in any way to Amirjit Saini,” Charlie replied quickly, though, hearing the statement from his own mouth, it didn’t sound very convincing.
“Did you have a lot of things stolen?” Gray asked.
Charlie tried to laugh it off. “If they were thinking the place would be loaded with valuables, they must have been pretty disappointed.”
Gray didn’t seem to be buying Charlie’s nonchalance, but she didn’t pursue it, perhaps sensing his true discomfort.
“So, pretty productive meeting, huh?” Charlie declared, changing the subject and looking at Redden to see if he would take the bait.
He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll get them down a few hundred thousand yet,” he said confidently. Redden clearly fancied himself a deal-maker who never left much on the table, and though opinions varied as to whether this was actually true, he at least had a track record for getting projects done. “I’m just worried about whether we can get all the details worked out by the end of tomorrow. I don’t like the idea of having to negotiate with Ruiz’s underlings. I get the sense it’ll be a waste of time.”
“I agree,” Gray said. “Ruiz is definitely the one calling the shots. We should try to present him with a draft first thing tomorrow and hopefully we’ll have agreement in principle on the main points by the end of the day.”
“Can we sign it tomorrow?” Charlie asked, looking at Redden, who deferred to Gray.
“No, but we could sign a letter of intent subject to some conditions — environmental and title searches, for example. We’re going to need to get a hold of Sam Sanchez to help us with the drafting.”
Charlie nodded, pulling out his BlackBerry and firing off a quick message to Sanchez. As Redden and Gray debated what should be in the letter of intent, Charlie’s mind wandered to the expression on Ruiz’s face when he had made his mysterious remark. He briefly entertained the idea of racing home to see if anyone had disturbed the flooring in his bedroom, but he knew he wouldn’t have the chance. He had been hoping to forget about his personal problems for a while by throwing his energy into the property deal. But with Ruiz’s remark, Charlie came to the very unsettling conclusion that more people than he cared to admit knew that something was fishy at his house.
The more he thought of it, the more it made sense that the state authority responsible for diplomatic properties would know the most about the houses in its portfolio — and Ruiz was pretty close to the top. But how could he have known there was dope buried under the floorboards? Could he be involved somehow?
Charlie found it hard to believe, though. Ruiz was a senior official in the government, for Christ’s sake. But what did Charlie really know, and not know, about the underworld in Havana? He had heard there wasn’t much of a drug trade, mostly because of the lack of hard currency to pay for it, not to mention the severe penalties involved. But even in Cuba, he was sure there was a clientele for someone willing to take the risk. It might be a smaller market, but the upside could still be high.
The sound of his name brought him back into the real-time discussion of how they were going to get a draft agreement ready in time for the meeting the next morning.
The van was almost back at the embassy when his hip vibrated.
“That’s Sam now,” he said, reading the incoming message. “He says he’s available anytime after five. He’s suggesting either his office or a conference room at the hotel. Any preference?”
>
“I don’t care,” Redden said. “As long as I get something to eat soon, before I pass out.”
“I agree with that,” Gray said.
Charlie looked at his watch, realizing that the meeting had been more than three hours long. “Why don’t we go to the hotel and grab something to eat, and have Sam meet us as soon as he can?” Seeing the others shrugging their shoulders in unison, he typed out a message as the van rolled through the embassy gates. Getting out, Charlie had a quick word with the driver before turning to the others.
“I’ve got to make a run home first, if you want to check your emails upstairs. Hector here will take you out to the hotel in thirty minutes and I’ll meet you there.”
Charlie sat at the table in the backyard, munching on a hastily-assembled sandwich. He glanced at the pool and wondered whether there could be any remaining trace of whatever he had dropped in there. Surely it had been killed off by the chlorine, or evaporated, in the past week. He still worried about Teddy’s exposure during his brief swim, but he had seen little of Stewart since his return from Panama, and the ambassador hadn’t said anything about the dog, one way or the other. Charlie decided that was a good thing. Surely, if Teddy had gone home and pissed all over the inside of the official residence, Charlie would have heard all about it by now.
“I go now, Señor Charlie.”
He turned to see Marta by the kitchen door and waved. Returning inside a few moments later, he watched the housekeeper chatting with one of the guards at the gate, and as soon as it closed behind her, Charlie headed straight for his room. He stood there for a moment, staring at the floor by the foot of his bed. He saw no evidence of any of the boards having been moved. If Ruiz’s men had been in here, they had done a pretty good job of putting everything back in order. He glanced around the room, wondering whether they had a miniature camera hidden somewhere. He had been warned at his pre-posting briefing that the Cubans were experts at surveillance, and that while the house had been vetted by Gord Connors, there was no guarantee a bug or two hadn’t been missed. But video was a stretch.
Charlie knelt down and tried to jiggle the boards loose, but they felt as solid as they looked. Could it be that Ruiz’s remark had been mere coincidence, and that he knew nothing about Charlie’s discovery?
Maybe he was just being paranoid. Charlie didn’t know what to think, and he didn’t have time to worry about it now. He was due out at the hotel.
Chapter 24
Sam Sanchez took off his glasses and stopped writing. The four of them — Sanchez, Gray, Redden, and Charlie — had spent the last three hours trying to put together the draft purchase agreement, and they all knew there were still several hours of work left to do.
“Now, the import issue is a big one,” Sanchez said, getting up for a stretch. “As you may know, the duties on foreign imports are considerable in Cuba.”
“How considerable?” Redden asked. He had grown more and more irritated as the night wore on, as he learned of the growing number of obstacles that his construction project, which would be relatively straightforward anywhere else, would encounter in Cuba.
“On construction materials, it’s about a hundred and fifty percent,” he said, eliciting a bout of cursing from Redden. “But,” he added, turning to Gray, “as long as you import it for the embassy, you’ll be exempt from those duties, correct?”
Gray pulled her glasses down from their perch on top of her head. “That’s right, but we can’t pass our exemption on to our contractor, so we’ll have to make sure that whatever deal we strike with the builder allows us to import the materials ourselves.”
Charlie considered her answer from across the table, trying not to peek at the front of her white blouse, which he had noticed offered the occasional hint of cleavage, depending on her position at the table.
“That’s going to be a nightmare,” Redden said, also getting up. He already knew most of the construction materials would have to be imported, from bricks and nails to furniture and bathroom fixtures.
“Not if you do it right,” Sanchez replied, picking up his pen again. “If we use ImCub as our customs agent, they’re surprisingly efficient.”
“Why do I think this is going to cost us?” Gray said as Sanchez smiled.
“They’ll want their cut, but it won’t be too bad, and nowhere near the delay costs and import duties you’ll incur otherwise. The important thing is to include their role as import agent into the purchase agreement.”
“So it will be built into the overall purchase price, instead of a separate cost?” Gray said, making a note.
“Exactly,” Sanchez said. He read out the text of a proposed clause. Redden and Charlie nodded, while Gray frowned.
“I’m a little concerned about their role … as agent, I mean.”
“Why?” Redden asked, his annoyance obvious.
Gray was unfazed. “Because we want to keep tight control of what’s ordered, and what clears customs. I don’t want our embassy project to fuel a black market in duty-free construction materials.”
“Has that ever happened?” Charlie asked, intrigued.
“Not to us, as far as I know, but I have heard of unscrupulous contractors importing all sorts of things under diplomatic cover. Say,” she continued, “you need a hundred sheets of Gyproc for a project. Your contractor imports a thousand, then sells the rest on the black market. It’s one way to increase profit margins.”
“And then there’s the other stuff that gets shipped in,” Sanchez said.
“Let’s not even go there.” Gray waved a hand. “We’ll just have to make sure we specify that a Canadian has to be on hand for the opening of every container.”
With everyone in agreement on the proposed course of action, Redden suggested a five-minute break. They were on the ground floor of the hotel, and everyone agreed it would be a good idea to go outside for some fresh air. They strolled out into the courtyard between the outdoor bar and the pool area. The ocean was close enough that they could hear the waves breaking, and the air was thick with the scent of salt water.
“Do you think we’ll get this thing finished tonight?” Charlie asked, as Sanchez lit a cigarette.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “We’re through the worst of it already. Another hour, two at the most, and I’ll have enough to put the first draft together. When’s the meeting tomorrow?”
“Eleven,” Charlie said, consulting his electronic calendar.
“Why don’t I bring a draft to the embassy first thing, and then we can make final revisions before we take it to the Cubans.”
“That works,” Gray said, pointing at Sanchez’ cigarette. “Can I bum one of those?”
“Of course.” Sanchez offered her one from the pack and flicked open his lighter.
“So what have you got planned for the weekend?” Sanchez asked, after they had all agreed on the time for the morning meeting at the embassy.
“I’m heading out to Varadero,” Redden said. “Some friends are there for a couple of weeks, so I’m going to hang with them for a couple of days.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Charlie said, as Sanchez looked to Gray.
“Thought I’d putter around the market, maybe see the castle,” she said.
“If I wasn’t going to Mexico City tomorrow, I could have taken you out to the Bay of Pigs. It’s a nice drive,” Sanchez said.
“Oh, that is too bad,” Gray said.
“I could take you out for dinner,” Charlie heard himself say, realizing it sounded like he had just asked Gray out on a date … in front of the whole group. An awkward silence loomed as Gray took a long puff of her cigarette. Charlie’s mind was churning to come up with a plausible and face-saving reply to her rejection when she blew out a long stream of smoke and smiled.
“Sure, why not.”
Chapter 25
Charlie drove around the same bloc
k for the third time, checking the map and the instructions Landon had given him over the phone. He had been disappointed to find the restaurant he had in mind was fully booked when he called first thing on Saturday for a reservation. But the alternate came highly recommended by one of Landon’s friends, if only Charlie could find it.
“He said it was on this street, a building with a rooftop garden.” He pointed through the windshield and began to wonder if he shouldn’t just take his chances in town. Gray didn’t seem worried.
“I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”
Charlie pulled over to get a better look at the instructions he had scribbled. “Wait a minute.” He looked at the street sign and then checked the map, tracing the area with his finger. “We’re on the wrong street. We’re supposed to be on San Ignacio.”
Gray leaned over to have a look, and put her finger a few inches from his. “There.”
“You’re right. Just a few streets up and to the left.” As he started off again, Charlie caught the fragrant scent of Gray’s perfume on the warm breeze coming in through the open car windows. She was wearing a blue linen dress with spaghetti straps that showed off the delicate bones of her shoulders. She had spent the morning at the outdoor market and her freckled cheeks bore a tinge of pink that gave her a healthy glow.
As they turned onto the next street, Charlie spotted it right away. It looked like an average six-storey apartment building, but unlike all of the others on the block, this building’s top was covered in lush greenery that crept down the walls.
They parked and walked across the quiet street to the entrance, which gave no hint that there was a restaurant upstairs. Landon had conveyed the description he had been given of the place: “unique,” and the food excellent. The only problem was that it had irregular hours, and Landon couldn’t guarantee that it was actually open from one week to the next. There was no way to reserve either, so as they climbed the circular staircase, Charlie hoped they wouldn’t be turned away. After five steep flights of stairs, they arrived at a metal gate blocking further progress.
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