Offshore Islands
Page 38
The Cubana flight CU704 touched down without the slightest bump at Havana International Airport. It was the first visit of both Mulligan and Kennedy to Havana, or to Caribbean, in fact it was their first visit outside of Europe. As they disembarked, they turned stumbling over each other grinning and gawking at the sight of the pretty Cuban ground hostesses, dressed in their tight uniforms and decorated with red flowers in their lapels.
They cleared passport control without any problem, collected their baggage and were met by Arrowsmith and Martinez of Sierra Maestra. He led them out to the pick-up zone where a white streamlined Toyota Executive Transit was waiting for them. The driver loaded the bags whilst they climbed in. It was cool and refreshing after the heat of the airport, it was air-conditioned and fitted out with comfortable pivoting white leather armchairs.
It was early on a Saturday afternoon and the traffic was very light as they headed down the Avenida de la Independencia in the bright sunshine towards central Havana. Martinez whilst pointing out the sights, he explained to them that nothing had been planned for the rest of the afternoon, they would met again for dinner, in the meantime they could spend the time resting after their long flight from London. Business would wait until Monday when they would discuss the co-operation agreements and on Tuesday fly down to Holguin to visit the site.
They were booked into the Hotel Nacional de Cuba, the finest hotel in the country, which had been immaculately restored, the facade was a brilliant white in the tropical sun, contrasting with the greenery of its royal palms and gardens, the hotel stood on the rocky outcrop that overlooked the Malecon and the Gulf of Mexico. It was certainly Havana’s most splendid hotel, which had lodged stars such as Frank Sinatra and Clark Gable during its period of glory. In Arrowsmith's opinion, for a down town hotel it certainly deserved the epithet. They checked-in at the reception at the end of the vast cool lobby in white marble.
Soft background music tinkled from a grand piano, played by a young Cuban in a black tailed evening suit, as they were led to the lifts by the deputy manager. Arrowsmith followed them to their rooms, seeing that they were comfortably installed, he agreed to call them later after they had showered and unpacked.
From his own corner room, on the fourth floor of the new wing, Arrowsmith looked out over the sea, boats of all shapes and sizes ferried their passengers and goods to the other shore or to distant ports. In the distance he saw the Casablanca ferry as it approached the Havana Landing. Down to the right guests tanned themselves by the hotel pool, whilst waiters hurried back and forth carrying trays of exotic cocktails.
Arrowsmith looked at his watch, it was clear that Kennedy and Mulligan were raring to go, there was no point to disappoint them, he picked up the phone and called Pat Kennedy’s room.
“Yesh,” replied Kennedy as though surprised the phone should ring.
“How’s it going, are you ready?”
“Almost, just ten more minutes.”
“OK take your time, let’s meet in the lobby in twenty minutes, tell John now.”
The waiter found them a corner table on the terrace overlooking the Malecon and they ordered three San Cristobal beers, brewed by the Sierra Maestra Breweries & Distilleries, they could not have ordered anything else, thought Arrowsmith as he sipped the cool beer.
“Cheers!”
He had not been mistaken in his impressions, there was a forced appearance of nonchalance, that barely concealed their excitement. They had never seen or imagined such colours, smells, brilliant greenery and intense sunlight. They were lost for words, waiting for Arrowsmith to guide them and explain the strange sights and sounds. It was another world waiting to be explored.
Arrowsmith gave them the standard tour, starting with the Catedral de la Virgen Maria de la Concepcion, or more simply Catedral de la Habana. What ever it was called, they regarded the catherdal with respect and awe, as Irish Catholic believers, with the vague thought that they were being observed, however far they were from home. They then continued to the Plaza des Armas and the Capitol, before finishing the afternoon cooling off by the hotel pool, their white skins exposed to the fierce sunshine.
Martinez picked them up at eight, he had booked them for dinner and the breathtakingly spectacular open air show at the Tropicana night-club, one of Havana's famous night spots. Kennedy and Mulligan got their first close experience with Cuban women, the attractive jineteras in the guise of ‘dancing students’ who frequented the night-club. In spite of the jet lag, it was difficult to tear them away from their new friends, with whom they had exchanged lessons of Cuban and Gaelic whilst dancing, at first shyly at arms length to the surprise of the ‘students’, before being coaxed into a more sensuous embrace.
Monday morning they were still in a state of cultural shock as the Mercedes made its way westwards along the Malecon, a six lane boulevard that that ran along the sea front, to their right the boulevard was lined by three or four storey buildings painted in colours of lemon, rose, purple and aquamarine, which were in an extraordinary state of decay. The car made its way unhurriedly through the curious traffic of Havana, with its ancient American cars, that glided with a curious grace of the aged, painted brightly to hide the wrinkles, like worn out old whores.
They had been met by Martinez at the hotel, who had joined them in the coffee shop. They had managed a reasonably good night’s sleep still feeling the effects of jet lag but enjoyed a solid American breakfast, accompanied by a mixture of fresh tropical fruit slices.
The offices of Sierra Maestra were in a relative modern tower about five kilometres from the centre of the city, half way to the Havana Jose Marti International Airport; on a corner of Avenida de la Independencia overlooking the railway and the Autopista. Ernesto was waiting for them and after introductions he led them to a large twelfth floor conference room. A smartly dressed girl served them cool drinks.
“Make yourselves comfortable I'll be back in a moment.” Ernesto disappeared leaving the three Europeans alone.
Kennedy glanced around the room wide eyed. It was magnificently furnished with modern dark red tropical hardwood furniture and buffalo hide covered armchairs. In the corner of the room stood a marble bust of Jose Marti, adorned with a vase of white flowers. A picture of Fidel Castro in a gilt frame hung on one wall and on another a large painting of the three Rebeldes; Castro, Che and Camilo Cienfuegos. It was very strange surrounding to the two Irishmen.
The air-conditioning hissed softly as they waited for Ernesto to return. Kennedy and Mulligan spoke in hushed voices, as though they were in a sanctuary, glancing sideways at the Jose Marti bust. It was the Irishmen’s first close encounter with a foreign, that is to say non-Irish, rebel who had struggled for independence from a colonial power. They were puzzled by the discovery.
The double doors opened, Ernesto led a slight silver haired Cuban wearing a dark grey suit into the room. It was difficult to give him an age, perhaps sixty five, maybe more, but from the deference shown to him it was evident that he was the headman. They were followed by three younger men in white short sleeved shirts with dark ties.
“Let me introduce you to Mr Carlos Gonzalez Montero, Mr Antony Arrowsmith.”
He bowed slightly and then shook hands with each of the visitors with a slight tap on the left arm in the Cuban manner. They were introduced to the others and invited to be seated at the conference table.
“Welcome to Sierra Maestra Breweries & Distilleries, Mr Arrowsmith,” Gonzalez said softly, nodding to Kennedy and Mulligan. “I have followed your discussions with Ernesto very closely and I am pleased with the progress that has been made. As you know we are the largest distillers and brewers in Cuba, we have been in the business for more than one hundred years.”
He paused looking at Arrowsmith with a grave but at the same time kindly expression, he was making the point they were not beginners in business and did not expect to be treated so.
“Our interest in the project in Cayo Saetia is what could be called part of our diversification into
the leisure industry. We hold large tracts of plantation land in the east of our country, which have been exploited for sugar cane, for, I can safely say, centuries. But with the world prices of sugar today it is no longer interesting to produce sugar, however, this land is ideal for tourist development.”
He was giving his blessing to the project, which had been described to him in detail by his men and the Ministry of Tourism. It was a mere formality and it was evident that the Cubans had prepared the ground at very high level.
They were shown through the double doors for lunch in the guest dinning room that was adjacent to the conference room. From the table and display of food and drinks that was set out before them, they were to eat in a style in which very few Cubans would eat that day or any other day.
As Ernesto led the way Montero discretely took Arrowsmith very gently by the elbow, holding him back to one side in the conference room..
“Mr Arrowsmith, I understand from John Castlemain that you are a very well travelled man,” he said speaking confidentially, it was more of a statement than a question.
“You know in Cuba times are changing and apart from our magnificent project, I fear that there are some lesser but pressing matters that I have to attend to, as very soon we shall be obliged to do things ourselves. I mean what you call the ‘Free Economy’. Sierra Maestra will have to fare for itself, just like companies have done in the ex-Soviet countries.”
Arrowsmith listened with attention, it was for a reason that Montero was confiding in him.
“We need to buy fertiliser and oil and unfortunately we have too few dollars!” he smiled in apology. “That may not seem important, but though the future may look bright, we must be careful that we are still alive when we get there,” he paused, “a man of your experience can perhaps help us?”
“What other means of payment are available,” Arrowsmith asked with tact.
“Today we only have sugar, but if our project goes ahead then will shall diversify our activities and revenues.”
“I see it’s like the old barter system.”
“Unfortunately not quite so, today sugar prices are low whilst oil and fertilisers are high.”
“What I want to avoid is that our prerogatives fall into the hands of unscrupulous people. I can trust David Castlemain and I understand he can trust you.”
Arrowsmith nodded a modest thanks.
“Help us to finance the deal in Europe and I shall ensure that our business is a success.”
Arrowsmith inclined his head again in agreement.
“My man Ernesto will provide you with the details. By the way keep this information strictly to yourself, your friends here need not know.”
“I will do that Señor Montero.”
“Let us eat now, I am sure you are hungry.”
Chapter 39
Cuban Sugar