Eisenhower's Spy by Noel Hynd

Author:Noel Hynd [Hynd, Noel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Cat Tales LLC, Publishing, Los Angeles, California
Published: 2020-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 37

Havana – October 1956

After the show, Thomas and Ann skipped the casino and stood in line for a taxi. The Tropicana being out of town, automotive transportation was necessary to go back to their hotel, which was in the center of the city near the harbor. One didn’t dare walk. There were fetid, dangerous slums between the nightspot and the center of town, filled with angry people who were excluded from the booming economy. There were also bands of young gangsters who cruised the streets of Havana after midnight in big Buicks armed with American machine guns stolen from army bases, looking for stragglers from the clubs and casinos. There were rumors about a nascent revolutionary movement. Occasionally tourists wandered off the proper pathways and learned quickly never to do it again.

They arrived safely back at the Parque Central at one-thirty in the morning.

There was a narrow iron balcony to their third-floor room. The room overlooked the street and the yellow moon was still visible through the glass panels on the wooden doors. Thomas and Ann were in an indulgent mood, so Buchanan poured one more rum drink from the tony bar in the room: beautiful dark rum over ice in a sturdy glass. He made certain that the balcony was secure, then led Ann out for a final breath of tropical air and a tight embrace.

They left the balcony doors open as they showered together, then tumbled into a large comfortable bed and made love.

Afterward, they lay together. Ann smoked a single cigarette, blowing a long, easy stream toward the ceiling. Her smoking annoyed him sometimes, but having smoked a cigar at the Tropicana, and having an occasional cigar at home, he had little to complain about.

They talked quietly and pleasantly, each relaxing in the presence of a well-loved partner. The show had set a wonderfully sensuous mood.

“So you liked the Tropicana?” he asked. It was a statement but was posed as a question.

“I liked the show more than I liked some of the people we were surrounded with,” she answered.

He laughed. It was a typical ”Ann” answer.

At one point Thomas rose from the bed, put a towel around his waist, and walked to the door to the balcony. Standing to the side and within the darkness of the hotel room, he peered out onto sleeping Havana and down at the street below. There were a few parked cars, including an open American convertible, a Cadillac DeVille. There was no pedestrian traffic. He scanned the doorways across the street and the shadows.

“No one?” she asked.

She sat up and put out her cigarette in an ashtray at the bedside.

“No one,” he confirmed.

“Looking for trouble?” she asked. “A potential rival? Is my husband and lover paranoid?”

“Ha! You know me too well, kid. Always a little jealous,” he said. “It’s a good thing,” he said. “Makes me even more watchful and protective.”

She laughed. “What did the mob guy have to say to you when I pretended to need to use the powder room?” she asked.

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