table and whisperedsomething in McCullough’s ear, but not so quietly that Smith didn’t hear: “The meeting is set for tomorrow, sir.”
McCullough nodded, said nothing in return. A good-looking Cuban woman passed the table, diverting the ex-senator’s attention. She smiled provocatively at him. He returned it and said something in Spanish. Smith kept his grin to himself. He’d noticed since arriving that McCullough was open in his appreciation of Cuban women. He had the politician’s ability to continue speaking on a subject while his eyes took in other things.
Later, in his suite, Smith called Annabel.
“Just thought I’d check in,” he said.
“I’m glad you did. How’s it going?”
“Fine. I just left a reception. Had an interesting chat with a judge from the People’s Supreme Court. Nice enough fellow. He said he’d try to arrange for me to sit in on a court case while I’m here.”
“Sounds intriguing. Wish I were there.”
“I do, too. Oh, Price told us tonight that there’s a chance Castro will get involved personally in the talks. We might also get to attend his birthday party.”
“An intimate affair, I’m sure.”
“Just a few thousand close friends. What’s new in D.C.?”
“It’s hot. Senator Helms held a press conference this morning. He’s calling for stiffening the Cuban embargo even more. They interviewed Jimmy Carter. He called the Helms-Burton bill the stupidest thing that’s ever been passed. Helms came back and said Carter was always out of touch with the American people and still is.”
“What does our current president have to say about this civilized debate?”
“Silence from the White House.”
“Smart. Well, I’d better get back downstairs. Any action at the gallery?”
“Slow. Don’t forget to keep your eye out for dealers looking to sell pre-Columbian artifacts.”
“Getting them out of the country might be a problem. They briefed us on buying Cuban art of any kind. You need a government export license, which I understand can take days.”
“Use your considerable clout.”
“Or use Price McCullough’s considerable clout. I get the feeling he has more than one agenda here. He’s got some meeting set up for tomorrow that isn’t on our official schedule. Maybe he has a date.”
“A date?”
“Yeah. Our former senator has an eye for the ladies here.”
“I imagine they have an eye for him, too. He’s still a very handsome man, and widowed. Of course, you’re a very handsome man, too, Mac, but
you’re
not widowed.”
“I’m well aware of that. I’d better run. Love you, Mrs. Smith.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual, Mr. Smith.
Hasta luego
.”
Despite having just come from Heidelberg, Kurt Grünewald did not feel like the Student Prince as he stepped from the Cubana Air DC-10 at Havana’s José Martí Airport.
The new addition to his staff had barely spoken during the long flight.
An arrogant young man
, Grünewald thought as he looked at his companion sleeping in the next seat. He didn’t need any help, and resented having this stranger, who wasn’t even a salaried employee, being foisted on him by his superiors.
Didn’t they trust him to get the job done? Evidently, they didn’t. Well
, he thought as he ordered another rum and Coke from the flight attendant,
I’ll put up with him as long as he stays out of my way
. He took a final glance and grimaced at the man’s blond hair, cut in that ridiculous fashion popular with young people.
You look like a fool, young man
, Grünewald told him silently as he accepted the drink, one of many he’d consumed during the flight. The older man turned his back on Erich Weinert.
Grünewald had been back in Heidelberg for two days after having been summoned from Havana by his superiors at Strauss-Lochner. His recall to corporate headquarters had been last minute and blunt: “Be here as quicklyas possible,” he’d been told over the phone by the company’s chief operating officer, Dr.
McCullough nodded, said nothing in return. A good-looking Cuban woman passed the table, diverting the ex-senator’s attention. She smiled provocatively at him. He returned it and said something in Spanish. Smith kept his grin to himself. He’d noticed since arriving that McCullough was open in his appreciation of Cuban women. He had the politician’s ability to continue speaking on a subject while his eyes took in other things.
Later, in his suite, Smith called Annabel.
“Just thought I’d check in,” he said.
“I’m glad you did. How’s it going?”
“Fine. I just left a reception. Had an interesting chat with a judge from the People’s Supreme Court. Nice enough fellow. He said he’d try to arrange for me to sit in on a court case while I’m here.”
“Sounds intriguing. Wish I were there.”
“I do, too. Oh, Price told us tonight that there’s a chance Castro will get involved personally in the talks. We might also get to attend his birthday party.”
“An intimate affair, I’m sure.”
“Just a few thousand close friends. What’s new in D.C.?”
“It’s hot. Senator Helms held a press conference this morning. He’s calling for stiffening the Cuban embargo even more. They interviewed Jimmy Carter. He called the Helms-Burton bill the stupidest thing that’s ever been passed. Helms came back and said Carter was always out of touch with the American people and still is.”
“What does our current president have to say about this civilized debate?”
“Silence from the White House.”
“Smart. Well, I’d better get back downstairs. Any action at the gallery?”
“Slow. Don’t forget to keep your eye out for dealers looking to sell pre-Columbian artifacts.”
“Getting them out of the country might be a problem. They briefed us on buying Cuban art of any kind. You need a government export license, which I understand can take days.”
“Use your considerable clout.”
“Or use Price McCullough’s considerable clout. I get the feeling he has more than one agenda here. He’s got some meeting set up for tomorrow that isn’t on our official schedule. Maybe he has a date.”
“A date?”
“Yeah. Our former senator has an eye for the ladies here.”
“I imagine they have an eye for him, too. He’s still a very handsome man, and widowed. Of course, you’re a very handsome man, too, Mac, but
you’re
not widowed.”
“I’m well aware of that. I’d better run. Love you, Mrs. Smith.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual, Mr. Smith.
Hasta luego
.”
Despite having just come from Heidelberg, Kurt Grünewald did not feel like the Student Prince as he stepped from the Cubana Air DC-10 at Havana’s José Martí Airport.
The new addition to his staff had barely spoken during the long flight.
An arrogant young man
, Grünewald thought as he looked at his companion sleeping in the next seat. He didn’t need any help, and resented having this stranger, who wasn’t even a salaried employee, being foisted on him by his superiors.
Didn’t they trust him to get the job done? Evidently, they didn’t. Well
, he thought as he ordered another rum and Coke from the flight attendant,
I’ll put up with him as long as he stays out of my way
. He took a final glance and grimaced at the man’s blond hair, cut in that ridiculous fashion popular with young people.
You look like a fool, young man
, Grünewald told him silently as he accepted the drink, one of many he’d consumed during the flight. The older man turned his back on Erich Weinert.
Grünewald had been back in Heidelberg for two days after having been summoned from Havana by his superiors at Strauss-Lochner. His recall to corporate headquarters had been last minute and blunt: “Be here as quicklyas possible,” he’d been told over the phone by the company’s chief operating officer, Dr.
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