He sat there, in front of a cafe in Havana, the guy looked like a tourist. Hawaiian flower shirt, tan fedora and khaki shorts. He had a newspaper in his hands, but it wasn't for reading purposes, there was a camera pointing out a cut out hole in the 'classifieds' section, he was taking pictures of a Cuban military advisory building. He snapped a shot of a Cuban officer, that'd be his way in. He stood, grabbing his coffee and his decoy newspaper. He followed the Cuban squad, the officer, and two soldiers. The squad stopped a casual passers by on the road and started to beat the man. He sheepishly yelled 'Detener! Detener!' He couldn't fight back, because if the civilian fought, he'd be shot by the men. The hawaiian clad man spilled his coffee on the closest soldier to him, the first Cuban soldier exclaimed in pain, as the coffee burned. He grabbed his arm and wrapped it around his back, simultaneously, he kicked the back of his knee and rolled over the first Cubans back. He stood, hammer punching the officers side, knocking him straight into the wall. The third and final soldier threw a punch, the first hit was blown to the spy. And he reacted with three swift jabs to the soldiers gut. The soldier knelt, and he took a relentless hit upside the head. He fell unconscious. Only the spy and the beaten civilian stood. A faint click was heard, and that click came from a loaded 357 magnum in the hands of the first Cuban soldier. He had to think fast, and on the clock of the hammer, he kicked a stray trash can lid into the soldier, the round whizzed by the mysterious spy and slammed into the wall. In an instant, the Hawaiian pulled an easily concealable ASP handgun from a shoulder holster under his unbuttoned shirt. Three shots slammed into the soldier and he fell, dead before he hit the ground. He holstered and got quick to work on salvaging the officers uniform.
The spy checked his watch, it was seven thirty, the final guard rotation of the advisory. He walked down the street, taking a quick glimpse down the alley of the encounter. He turned on his heel, giving a nod to the gate operator, showing his access key. He had made it into the main lobby, seeing the occasional armed guard. He eyed the guidance sign, 'Baños.' And under it read 'Ala de la administracion.' That was his destination, he leaned into a walk to a door, surprisingly, there was another uniformed man staring straight at the door, he was shorter build, blond, he didn't seem like a Cuban soldier. The other man stared straight at him. He opened the door and walked in, but the blond stayed put. The previously clothed in aHawaiian flower shirt man ruffled through documents, finally finding a document with a red stamp reading 'CLASIFICADO.' That was it, he got what he came for. Now it was time for him to get out of there.
