The Cuban Assignation

Chapter One

John Porter climbed into his hired vintage convertible and stretched his long legs out until they made contact with the pedals. It was a beautiful vehicle, although it wouldn't have been his choice. But the small family run hire company were happy to take a cash payment which was less traceable than renting an inconspicuous car through a large chain.

John had been forced to forego his usual dark blues and blacks in favour of lighter colours to counteract the intense heat and humidity of the Cuban city, and instead wore three-quarter length, khaki utility shorts and a snugly fitting white v-neck t-shirt, cut just low enough to reveal  a dusting of dark chest hair.

He took a glance in the rear view mirror, imperceptibly longer than a ‘normal’ driver would take, but long enough to ensure there was no one watching him with undue interest. He still had a slight shock when he caught sight of himself – the close cropped hair and neatly trimmed beard a far cry from his usual look, but a necessary change of image for the job.

He was used to playing a part – his job depended on it, but if he was honest, playing the part of ‘tourist’ didn’t come that naturally to him. Play it he must however, as he needed to make contact with his asset at possibly one of the biggest tourist attractions in Havana.

***

Cara Fuentes had been born in Hackney to immigrant parents in the late Seventies. Brought up with Western sensibilities, when she’d joined MI6 as a Junior Agent straight out of university the last place she’d expected to end up was back in South America, rolling cigars for the viewing pleasure of lecherous old farts and teenage boys who could barely make it out of the room upright.

That day, getting ready for work, she felt a charge of adrenaline knowing that it wouldn’t just be the usual clientele visiting the Fabrica de Tabaco Partagas. Cara worked as a torcedora on guided tour, illustrating how cigars had traditionally been rolled on the thigh of a young, unmarried (and therefore presumed virgin) woman. She struggled not to laugh at the irony every time she acted out her ‘scene’. In her early thirties she would have been considered far too old for the work had it been genuine, and as for virgin - Cara was a woman of the west in everything but genes, and what Englishwoman was a virgin at her age?

She prepared carefully for her role. She may have been there purely as a means of passing on information, but she needed to look the part. Once out of the shower she rubbed coconut oil into her skin, which both perfumed gave an attractive sheen in the Cuban sunlight. She dressed in a black fitted vest style top and brightly patterned wrap-around skirt, before applying eyeliner and mascara and a slick of crimson lip gloss. She combed through her dark, wavy hair and pinned it back in place with a large artificial flower, completing the traditional look. She glanced in the mirror as she left her apartment. Even after two months she could hardly believe it was her reflection – it was a far cry from the smart and restrained wardrobe she favoured for work in London, where her hair would be tamed into a slick French pleat, on the rare occasions she allowed it to grow long enough.

In spite of the surge of excitement that Cara felt at actually being able to do her real job, rather than just roll cigars, she had reservations about her colleague. She'd met him once in her early days with the service. His reputation as a wild-card had preceded him and his manner at the time had done nothing to dispel her belief that he was a maverick who would be better employed in the private security racket than protecting the interests of the nation.

John was also less than enthusiastic about their forthcoming meeting. He too remembered his first and only encounter with Cara during her training back in London and he hadn’t been impressed. Sure, she had the makings of a good agent in a ‘by-the-book’ sense, but he doubted she had the imagination and initiative to make a really outstanding spy. Frankly he’d been stunned when Layla had informed him who his contact would be. As far as he was concerned, Cara was an overly earnest, straight laced, typical graduate entrant to the service and the sooner he had the information he needed and was on a flight home, the better.

*             *             *

By the time John had spent the best part of an entire morning traipsing through the cigar factory with a group of assorted tourists, his frustration was beginning to get to him. There was still no sign of Cara and as they moved on between stops on the tour they were constantly approached by various workers, offering to sell their own personal allowance of free cigars at vastly preferential rates to those offered in the factory shop. Most of his fellow travellers had already taken advantage of this ‘black market’ but John was biding his time. He would only be buying from one torcedora today.

As the tour approached the museum section of the factory, John tried to recall Cara’s face but he found it a struggle, even more so when he was approached by a stunning Latino girl offering him discounted Los Cohiba esplendidos, as formerly smoked by Fidel Castro himself. He was about to refuse, when she caught his hand and his eye, “Por favour Senor, I rolled these myself…”

John Porter was a man of few words but it was quite some time since he had been rendered totally speechless. Pulling himself together, he exaggerated his Northern burr to reply, “Yeah, why not love,” as he handed over the required quantity of Cuban pesos.

Back in his hotel room a while later, John spread a towel out on the bed and tipped the cigars onto it. On closer inspection one was rolled slightly differently from the rest, and putting the remainder back in their box, he took a penknife from the bedside cabinet drawer and began to carefully peel back the wrapper. Sure enough, inside was a small piece of thin brown paper, bearing the faint inscription:

WORD OF MOUTH ONLY.  LUCA’S, GUITERAS HABANA DEL ESTE. 8PM

John gave an exasperated sigh and, reaching for his phone, entered the address into the sat nav app and hit ‘search’.