"But partnership demands trust," O'Brien said.» You understand what trust is, don't you, Arkady?"

"Yes."

"But you won't show it. For two days I've been waiting for you to be as open with George and me as we have been with you. Please don't piss on my back and tell me it's raining. Don't tell me about an old map. Sergeant Luna told us about the picture of the Havana Yacht Club. We know about it. A picture of a dead Russian at the Havana Yacht Club is exactly what we don't need now."

"John would feel better if he had it," Walls said.

"If I had it I wouldn't have to worry about it. And I'd know that you had extended your trust to us the way we have with you. Can you do that, Arkady, and trust me with that picture?" O'Brien put out his hand.

Arkady felt the envelope with the photograph sticking to his back.» I don't know about business partnerships, I've always worked directly for the state. But what about this? If I accept your proposition and work for a year and have a villa and boat and a satisfying social life, at that point I will give you the photograph. Until then it's safe because we will be, as you say, partners."

"Are you hearing this?" Walls asked.» The mother is bargaining."

"Resisting." John O'Brien let his hand drop. He looked his age, suddenly a little spent, silver hair sticking to temples that were wet like sweat on the edge of greasepaint, like an actor who passionately acted a play for a dull, deaf audience.» Because you're Russian, Arkady, I'll make allowances. This is a new way of thinking for you, being part of a plan."

"Remind me, what part would I be?" Arkady asked.

"Security. George told you, in case any Mafia does show up."

"I'd have to think about this. I'm not sure I'm that tough."

"That's okay," Walls said.» People think you are."

"Appearances go a long way," O'Brien said.» I'll tell you why the Capri is my favorite casino. You know, the Mafia hired an actor, George Raft, to front for the Capri. Raft acted a gangster so many times people thought he was. He thought he was. Comes the night of the Revolution crowds start looting casinos. One mob heads for the Capri. Who goes out on the steps but Raft himself and says in his gangster voice, 'No punks are busting up my casino.' And they went away. He chased them. America's last stand."

Chapter Nineteen

The bodega was a warehouse with the dimmest light in Havana, and the fact that the lines were short and Ofelia was going to do the mule's work of carrying a sack of Vietnamese rice and a tin of cooking oil did nothing to improve her mother's mood.

"You either come home late or you don't come home at all. Who is this man?"

"He's not a man," Ofelia said.

"He's not a man?" Her mother amplified her wonderment to include as many people as possible in the conversation.

"Not a man like that."

"Like the musicians? Great husbands. Where is the last one, massaging Swedes in Cayo Largo?"

"I came home last night. Everything is okay."

"Everything is wonderful. Here I am with the world's greatest work of fiction." She slapped her ration book.» What could be belter? To know why you come home so late?"

"It's a police matter."

"With a Russian! Hija, maybe you haven't heard, the Russian boat has sailed. Gone. How did you even find one? I'd love to see this stranded Lothario."

"Mama," Ofelia begged.

"Oh, you're in your uniform, you're embarrassed to be seen with me. I can wait in line all day so you can run around and make the world safe for..." She indicated a beard.

"We're almost there." Ofelia fixed her eye on the counter.

"We're almost nowhere. This is nowhere, hija. Remember that boy you knew in school, the one with the fish tank?"

"Aquarium."

"Fish tank. Nothing but dirty water and two catfish that never moved. Take a look at those clerks."

At a counter with a register and scale were two women with whiskers who looked so much like those catfish that it was difficult for Ofelia to keep a straight face. There were four counters in the gloom of the bodega, each with a chalkboard that listed goods, prices, ration per person or family, and date available, the "date available" clouded from many corrections.

"Tomatoes next week," Ofelia said.» That's good news."

Her mother exploded with a laugh.» My God, I've raised an idiot. There will be no tomatoes, no evaporated milk, no flour and maybe no beans or rice. This is a trap for morons. Hija, I know you are a brilliant detective, but thank God you have me to shop for you."

A woman behind them hissed and warned, "I will report this counterrevolutionary propaganda."

"Piss off," Ofelia's mother said.» I fought at Playa Giron. Where were you? Probably waving your tits at American bombers. I assume you had tits."

Her mother was good at shutting people up. Playa Giron was what the rest of the world called the Bay of Pigs. Strangely enough, she actually had been in the army and shot an invader, although now she claimed she should have made him take her to Florida while she had a gun on him.

"I have a question," Ofelia said.

"Please, I'm reading the board. Two cans of green peas per family for the month. They will be delicious, I'm sure. Sugar is available. You will know the end is near when no sugar is available."

"About pickles."

"I don't see pickles."

"Where would I find them?" The Eastern Bloc had tried to unload bottled pickles in Cuba, but Ofelia hadn't seen them for years.

"Not here. In the free market you buy cucumbers and pickle them."

"Different sizes?"

"A cucumber is a cucumber. Why would anyone want a small cucumber?" At the counter her mother made a show of having her book properly marked and announcing, "You know, if you live on your rations you will enjoy a very balanced diet."

"That's true," one of the clerks was stupid enough to agree.

"Because you eat for two weeks and starve for two weeks." Having delivered her torpedo, Ofelia's mother turned and sailed for the exit, leaving Ofelia to follow with the heavy sack and can of oil the length of the bodega while everyone stared.

When they reached the street her mother stumped toward home.

"You are impossible," Ofelia said.

"I hope so. This island is driving me crazy."

"This island is driving you crazy? You've never been off this island."

"And it's driving me crazy. And having a daughter who's one of them." Her mother had been stopped by the police for selling homemade cosmetics door to door. They'd let her go, of course, as soon as they learned Detective Osorio was her daughter.» Your uncle Manny wrote to say there is a rocking chair waiting on the porch for me in Miami."

"With a drive-by shooting every night is what he wrote me."

"In his new letter he says he could take Muriel and Marisol. He says they would love South Beach. We could all go and the girls could stay."

"We are not going to talk about this."

"They would knock Miami out. They're beautiful girls and they're light."

That was always the insinuation her mother could twist like a knife, that Ofelia stood apart in the family by the deeper color of her skin, that Ofelia was different from her own daughters and, in reverse, a lifelong and

bitter disappointment to her mother. And Ofelia knew her mother could see the red heat in her cheek.

"They're staving with me. If you want to go to Miami, you can go."

"I'm only saying, it's a new world. It probably doesn't involve a Russian."

Arkady had Walls and O'Brien drop him off a couple of blocks short of the Malecon. Because he had the sense that Luna could leap over the seawall any second with an ice pick or machete once Arkady reached the boulevard, he stayed in the shadows of building columns until he reached an address with the tricolored banner of the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution, knocked at Abuelita's door and entered.