“Likewise,” said Jack. “Likewise.”

“Then,” said Donato, “When this is over, the both of you must return for a visit. Bring your wife, Jack, and your husband, Laura. You are welcome to share my roof with my family. I would consider it an honour.”

“Perhaps the day will come where you are also free to travel,” said Jack. “I would also consider it an honour for you to come and stay with me.”

Donato nodded, but turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if that day would ever come.

Later that night, Jack went down to the lobby and sent Natasha an e-mail. He told her that he was being well cared for by the Cubans. They have little, but are willing to share what they do have, he wrote. A very proud people. I want to return here some day—with you!

The following morning, the Russians checked out of their hotel as scheduled. A different member of Donato’s staff took on the role of taxi driver and took them to Havana.

Jack and Laura went to pay for their rooms, only to be refused. “It was already looked after,” said the desk clerk.

Early that afternoon, Donato told Jack and Laura that the Russians checked into the Hotel Nacional in Havana. A place that Donato informed them was once frequented by Hollywood movie stars and old time gangsters like Al Capone.

Donato had Jack and Laura check in at the Hotel Saint John’s. It was a much more modest hotel located about a ten-minute walk away from where the Russians were staying. Jack, Laura and Donato were still in the lobby checking in when Donato received a call.

Donato put his hand over the receiver and whispered to Jack, “It is going as expected. Moustache Pete has already made a reservation tomorrow night at Al Medina. He reserved a table for four people.”

“Four?” replied Jack.

“Apparently they are meeting two people,” replied Donato. “The Russians are now drinking triple vodkas in the bar at the Hotel Nacional. One moment please,” added Donato, as he resumed his phone conversation in Spanish. “Bueno!” he said, and hung up.

“Good news?” asked Jack.

Donato smiled and said, “Prostitutes have now been invited to join them. I think tomorrow the Russians will be exhausted and sleep late. Our work will likely not begin until dinner time.”

“It will give Laura and me a chance to see Havana,” said Jack.

“Tomorrow, perhaps around eleven, I will meet you and give you both a tour of Havana. Tonight, I ask that you excuse me. I still have work to do and ...” Donato paused.

“And you would like to sleep with your wife,” added Jack.

Donato smiled and they said goodbye.

After checking into their rooms and cleaning up, Jack and Laura went to a restaurant beside the hotel before returning for a nightcap in the hotel lobby bar.

A vocal trio called the Trio Tesis were singing Latin songs in the lobby. Jack watched as the lead singer poured his heart out in a song entitled “Yolanda.” When the trio took a break, Jack discovered that the singer spoke English and purchased a compact disc of their songs.

“You’re very good,” said Jack. “You show a lot of emotion when you sing ‘Yolanda.’ Do you know someone by that name?”

“No,” he admitted. “But when I sing it, I think of my wife. She is a doctor and has been gone many months. The government sent her to help the people in Belize for six months. Soon she will return.”

When he left, Jack turned to Laura and raised his eyebrow.

Laura knew what he was thinking. “It’s amazing,” she said. “These people are so poor, yet they can still find it in their hearts to help others.”

“Not my impression of a terrorist state,” replied Jack.

The next morning, Jack and Laura strolled through the streets of Havana. The limestone Spanish architecture of the buildings would have made Havana, at one time, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Now, most of the buildings were in a severe state of decay and were crumbling down. Inside, whole families lived in darkened vestibules. Mothers swept the limestone dust outside where children used sticks as bats to play ball amongst the rubble.

“Do you see that?” said Laura, gesturing to a young girl holding the hand of a little boy as they came out of a building that apparently was their home. The building was dark inside, with the only visible light coming from a single bulb dangling from a high ceiling on a piece of wire.

“They’re spotless,” added Laura. “The both of them.”

Jack saw the white shirts the children wore. They looked perfect. “I read a newspaper in the lobby this morning,” he said. “The paper was called Granma.”

“Granma?” asked Laura. “Sounds like you were in an old folk’s home.”

“Actually, it is the name of the official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Cuban Communist Party. Granma was the name of the yacht that brought Fidel Castro to Cuba in 1956 to start the Cuban Revolution.”

“So what’s it got to do with these children?”

“The newspaper is not what you would call a free press. But one thing was obvious. They take great pride in looking after and educating their children. There was also an article about them assisting Venezuela with their illiteracy problem.”

“Most appear to live in squalor, but ...”

“Exactly. They still work hard to improve themselves. You can see it in their faces. I’ve been through ghettos in Canada where people sat waiting for handouts. Maybe we could learn something from these people.”

“I suspect the government of Cuba is too poor to give much in the way of handouts,” replied Laura.

Jack and Laura met Donato as scheduled and he took them to a more popular tourist area in Havana. The area was comprised of a few square blocks where many of the buildings had been restored. It was also where the Arab restaurant was located. Another restaurant that was also a microbrewery was just down the street and they went there for lunch.

“You both went for a walk this morning,” said Donato. “What do you think of my Havana?”

“Fifty years ago, I believe that this would have been the most beautiful city on the planet,” said Jack. “It still is beautiful, but ...”

“Yes, I know,” said Donato sadly. “The American embargo. It has taken its toll. Medicine, school supplies, parts for automobiles ...”

“From what I have seen,” said Jack, “the Americans have forced the Cuban people to walk barefoot over the coals ... but they have never brought you to your knees.”

Donato smiled, and said, “They never will. Still, it is difficult to understand why amends have not been made.”

“Allowing Russia to plant missiles here to be used against the Americans—can you really blame them for the retaliation?” asked Jack.

“That was in 1962,” said Donato. “I, like most of my countrymen, weren’t even born yet. The American mafia was taking over our country. Casinos, gangsters, drugs ... was it so wrong to kick them out and invite the Russians?”

“It does seem like a long time to punish someone,” said Laura. “Will peace ever be made?”

“I have a theory on that,” said Jack, watching Donato’s face closely. “I think there is more to it than the missiles. Back in the early 1960s, Fidel was targeted by the Kennedy administration on numerous assassination attempts.”

“This is true,” said Donato, eyeing Jack curiously.

“JFK was assassinated in 1963,” continued Jack. “I think that Fidel was exasperated and struck back. I also think the CIA is aware of this and will never allow peace between your countries as long as Fidel is in power.”

Donato looked around nervously and said, “It is not good to talk of such things. No politics, please.”

For Jack, it brought home the realization that he was in a communist country. Freedom to express or exchange ideas could bring retribution.

Jack was concerned that he had upset Donato, but within minutes, Donato was smiling and later took them on a drive around the city.