After Fidel Ch. 05

Chapter 5 – El Presidente

I'm not sure what I expected to see at our meeting. The one thing I had gleaned from the telephone conversation was a sense of disorder. We pulled up to the building to find it bristling with a ragtag bunch of soldiers. Some had uniforms but most did not. All were heavily armed, each man sporting at least two weapons, usually a rifle and a pistol. They were supposed to be an Army, but there was no appearance of order or control.

As we got out of the car and ascended the many steps, the guards watched us with contempt. Looking around, I could see our clothes didn't fit in. Some of the soldiers, the more senior looking ones, sneered as they regarded us. In the end, our clothes may be what made the soldiers admit us. Dressed better than the guards, we looked official so they were probably concerned that turning us away would be a mistake. None of the soldiers appeared confident that they knew what they were doing. I suppose it was understandable for a government that had been in power a little over a day. We were allowed to enter the building but had to stop at numerous checkpoints to be interrogated. When we were almost to the President's office, guards wanted to frisk us. I had no problem with being searched, as we were unarmed, but I didn't want the women to be frisked by the male soldiers. I could see in Stacy's face that she didn't want this collection of thugs running their hands over her body but Felicita didn't look concerned. Perhaps this had been an acceptable practice in Fidel's Cuba. After a few minutes of disagreement, one of the soldiers got on the phone. A female soldier, also heavily armed, arrived and searched the women. Once the guards were convinced we were harmless, we were admitted.

A group of people had taken over Fidel's office. There were loud conversations and occasional explosions of laughter. To their credit, they were not just sitting around drinking his rum and smoking his cigars. They were doing that, of course, but they were also working. Some were holding meetings in small groups, others were speaking on telephones. Cigar smoke hung heavily in the room. Every person in the room was heavily armed. Many sported two pistols stuck in their belts. A few wore bandoliers of ammunition. It was strange seeing all the weapons in that elegant office. Being over-dressed might have impressed the guards outside, but in here it only marked us as outsiders. That might have gotten us past the guards outside, but here it only identified us as out of place.

Ben, the Chief of Section, pulled my ear to his face and loudly whispered over the din. "Don't be deceived by their clothes," he urged me, apparently aware of what I was thinking. "These people are revolutionaries first, and dignitaries second. They are running Cuba now. Keep that in mind." I nodded my agreement.

As we walked through the room, the mass slowly parted to allow us to pass until I could see a large wooden desk ahead in front of a larger window. Two weeks ago, Fidel had sat at that desk. Today, a large man occupied the seat of power. He was heavily armed and wearing fatigues. He smoked a cigar, a cloud of blue smoke hanging over his head. There was a glass of rum on the desk amid a confused pile of papers and maps. He was talking animatedly with two other men. When the trio saw us standing before them, they abruptly stopped talking and stared at us.

The big man behind the desk smiled and held out his hand, not sure which one of us to address. "I am Ernesto Famosa Sanchez." His voice was deep and bold.

Ben, the Chief, nudged me forward. I reached for Ernesto's hand. "We spoke on the telephone, Presidente Sanchez."

"Please call me Ernesto. I must have the pleasure of addressing Christopher, yes?"

"Yes, Ernesto. Thank you for inviting us here. Allow me to introduce my associates."

"Certainly. But first, let's get comfortable. There is a conference room through this door." Ernesto indicated with his hand the way to a quieter room with a beautifully carved mahogany conference table. As I turned towards the room, I caught Ernesto motioning to a group of men to follow us inside. We took seats around the table. Ernesto sat at the head and pointed to the seat on his right for me. I realized the honor he offered me and took the seat. Felicita moved to sit next to me but Ben, the Chief, guided her to the next seat over and took that one for himself. I realized I might need his counsel during the meeting. I would be able to confer with Felicita after we left.

I introduced the rest of my entourage to Ernesto, and he did the same with the men who had entered after us. Who most of them were didn't interest me, except for the Minister of Foreign Trade. Ernesto then wasted no time after that getting down to business. He must have been busier than I could possibly imagine so he was pressed to dispense with most of the usual Spanish courtesies of refreshments and polite conversation before business.

"Christopher, I understand that you are in the business of importing and exporting goods. We are in need of many things in Cuba. I think we can be of benefit to each other."

I wasn't comfortable with addressing the new President of Cuba by his first name, but I wasn't about to offend him by going against his wishes. "Ernesto, we would be delighted to assist you. Do you have a list of items you need immediately?"

We went on to discuss what essentials were in short supply. Cuba needed almost everything from toilet paper to gasoline. With Ben assisting me, I felt certain I could get ships out of Miami, Houston and New Orleans here in a matter of days. Ernesto offered tobacco, finished cigars, assorted tropical produce, lumber and rum in trade. The big holdup would be financing. When I mentioned that, Ben intervened. The U. S. Commerce Department had already anticipated this problem and would provide funding to guarantee loans for covering the goods in transit. With the backing of our government, I realized my company was in a position to do an incredible amount of business. We negotiated for hours. I had to keep reminding myself that I was not talking with a factory owner but instead with the leader of a country. I hadn't handled deals this large before, but I began to relax as we settled into a rhythm. Brian and Stacy were taking notes, keeping track of the details, and Felicita was helping them with translations as necessary.

We concluded our first day of negotiations just before sunset. It looked like it would be very profitable for us and would help with the shortages Cuba had been experiencing. For now, we were dealing only with necessities, but there were promises of more arrangements in the coming weeks for things like tourism and luxury items once the needs of the masses had been met. As we stood, Brian and Stacy straightened stacks of paper. I almost laughed when I saw the paper they had been using. At some point, they must have filled the notepads they had brought and one of Ernesto's staff had supplied them with extra paper, grabbing what was at hand. It was Fidel's official stationery. I suppose it was scrap paper to the Cubans now.

Ernesto insisted on providing us with a security detail. I thought he meant an escort back to the hotel until he explained that we would have the detail at our disposal until things were settled in the country. I started to protest but felt Ben gently prodding my side. I got the message and accepted gracefully. We said our goodbyes and left, our heavily armed guards leading the way.

Felicita sat next to me in the car and I held her hand during the ride. I hadn't had the chance to be close to her all afternoon. Instead of returning to the hotel, we went back to the Interests Section (actually the old U. S. Embassy building) where Ben showed us our new office spaces. It wasn't normal practice for the U. S. government to provide offices to private companies but, given the situation, it was the most secure location and provided us needed access to our own government. It would take a lot of coordination with the U. S. government to pull off supplying the fledging nation. Given the emergency nature of the situation, we were afforded much in the way of assistance and liberties. To make it easier for us to get around, Ben even provided us with a car and driver.

We spent a few hours that evening getting organized in our new offices. I called Ross at home and brought him up to speed on what had transpired the previous afternoon. He was overjoyed at the prospects. There were other companies that would also be arriving to do business with Cuba, but we would have the lion's share of the U. S. trade. He offered more staff, and I gratefully accepted. He also told me the airport was reopening in the morning and Gustavo would be arriving. I could expect the rest of my staff by the middle of the week. I knew he would be sending the best people he could get.

On Sunday Felicita took us to mass at the church of Jesus de Miramar, near the other embassies, and then we worked the rest of the day. Gustavo arrived and took up his role. He looked over what we were doing and, along with Felicita, helped to keep our activities compatible with the local culture. In addition, he was able to review our contracts and other documents. Over the next few days, we settled in to our new offices. The Interests Section staff provided legal assistance. Arrangements were underway to restore diplomatic relations and reopen the embassy. It was still a mass of confusion, but things were improving.

We had gone from having nothing to do but wait to being overwhelmed with work. I didn't want my staff to burnout from the sudden increase in pace. I wanted to give everyone a break so I asked Felicita if we could all visit her family for lunch one day. It would be relaxing to get away to the countryside. She assured me her mother would be delighted to have us over. I set it up for her to take the car and make the necessary arrangements with her mother.

Each day, we worked at coordinating shipments and finding buyers and sellers. Each night, we returned to the hotel. Under the watchful eyes of our Cuban security detail, we ate and retired to our rooms. Alone at last, Felicita and I made love. We were blissful in the knowledge that we were working together and going to stay together. It was turning out so differently from my last trip.

One issue making news was what the new government was going to do with Fidel. Throughout the revolution, he had lain in state in the Capitol. His funeral scheduled for Monday didn't take place. Instead, it was decided that he deserved a burial but not at a monument. He was given a quiet funeral and buried in a cemetery in Havana. I think the new government was relieved to finally get him in the ground.

The five of us, accompanied by our ever-present security detail, enjoyed a wonderful afternoon with Felicita's family. I had given Felicita money to do the shopping and the entire family, aunts, uncles, cousins, took part in the preparations and treated us like royalty. They regarded us as instrumental in bringing the sweeping changes to Cuba. I didn't agree and still felt the attention I was receiving was undeserved.

Felicita's grandfather cornered me and kept me monopolized. The men told jokes, mostly at the expense of Fidel and his former government, obviously enjoying their new-found liberties to talk freely. Life was changing before my eyes, and I was coming to the realization that it was time for my life to make a change as well.

There was a message waiting for me when we got back to the hotel that night. I called the number and ended up talking with a CNN producer who wanted to do an interview with me, a follow-up piece to my phone call during the "revolution". I didn't want any part of it. He reminded me that I had an agreement with the State Department. Of course, I didn't have to do the interview, but people back home were curious to learn more about me. I had become a celebrity in the States, an unknown celebrity. He made me feel like I needed to do it, so I hedged a little. I agreed to do the interview if I could appear with the other three who had been with me. In reality, we had all taken part even though I was the voice on the phone. He accepted that. The interview would take place live at the hotel. Leah Coulter would fly down in two days to do the program. It would air in primetime, which meant 8:00 PM. We'd all meet for drinks and snacks to get acquainted, and then do the broadcast for an hour.

The office was setup now and working efficiently. I had a sizable staff and we were even looking for our own office space. I knew I couldn't impose on the Chief of Section much longer. The locations I had scouted out on my first trip were all too small for the size operation we were becoming. I had a building in mind and was trying to negotiate a lease. It was a high rise on the Malecon overlooking the harbor. I planned to pump some money into the local economy by extensively renovating the space. Most of the buildings in the city were old and badly in need of repair. Our operation was becoming very profitable, and I wanted to share some of that with the city. The frantic pace was slowing down a little for me as our staff grew. Brian was my assistant head of Cuban operations. Stacy also had secured a senior position. Felicita was a senior staffer, becoming quite indispensable herself. I was glad to see that she was earning a lot more than she ever could have as a taxi driver. She and I were looking for an apartment that would be more comfortable than the hotel. The others also wanted to move out of the hotel into more permanent accommodations. I could even start to see a time when I would be able to travel back to the states a little, leaving the office in capable hands. We'd need furnishings so I wanted to go back to move out of my apartment in the States. Before I did that, I had something else I needed to do. The time was right.

The day of the interview finally came. I arranged for the four of us to take off that afternoon. We dressed for the meeting with the lovely Ms. Coulter. I went down to the lobby to retrieve one item from the hotel safe. It had rested there since I had arrived. At last, after many months its time had arrived.

I returned to the room and saw that Felicita was just about ready. I stepped into the other bedroom and pulled Brian aside. I told him that I was taking Felicita out alone for dinner after the broadcast.

"Sure. You two want some private time, eh? That sounds great. I might do the same with Stacy. We haven't had much time to ourselves to go out lately."

I agreed. Things had been hectic in the office, but were finally beginning to become routine.

I went back into our room to check on Felicita when there was knock on the door. I answered it, finding the beautiful woman I was now used to seeing on CNN Headline News.

"Hi, Christopher. I'm Leah Coulter."

She was a little shorter than me. Her complexion was dark but I couldn't figure out the ethnicity. Her accent was neutral, typical for a newscaster. She obviously hadn't grown up overseas. Her long dark hair set off her beauty. Apparently, Leah saw I was taken by her appearance and continued the conversation without me.

"I recognized you from the pictures we used during the broadcast. May I come in?"

Coming to my senses, I stepped aside. "Please, come in."

Leah walked in, looking around. "Is this the room you called from?" she asked as she walked to the window.

"No. We had to move to this part of the hotel because of the damage done by the shelling. The layout of the room is identical to the other one but we're in a different part of the hotel now."

She surveyed the room, as if committing the details to memory. "I thought we'd do the broadcast from the lobby. It's not too busy down there and we have room to setup the equipment." Turning around at the sound of Felicita coming out of the bathroom, she continued with, "And you were there as well, weren't you?"

Felicita looked to me.

"Leah, I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Felicita. She was with me that day."

Felicita shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Coulter." Then, looking down at Leah's left hand, she added, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Coulter."

"Please, call me Leah," she told Felicita. "Besides, Coulter is my maiden name. I still use it for professional purposes."

The other three heard the conversation and walked in from the next room. Leah was introduced to Stacy, Brian and Gustavo. Leah had obviously done her homework because when she met Gustavo, she asked him, "You were not here during the broadcast, were you?"

"No, ma'am. I was supposed to arrive that day. When the airport was shut down, my flight was grounded in Mexico. I arrived a few days after."

Leah nodded. "So I will be interviewing just the four of you, right?" she asked, indicating everyone except Gustavo.

I nodded. Then she suggested we have a light snack in the restaurant downstairs to get better acquainted. When we stepped off the elevator I was stopped by the spectacle. The lobby was being transformed into a television studio. Furniture was being moved, thick cables ran across the floor, bright lights were being erected. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been possible. With the hotel still so empty, the few guests were already watching the activity so there was little chance of anyone walking across the lobby during the broadcast.

Leah noticed my fascination. "Don't worry about all that. It will be set up while we eat. The viewers will only see us and the furniture."

"Amazing," I said.

"It was to me at first as well. When I used to watch my father work, I was fascinated by it all. Now, it's just routine to me."

Once we were seated at a large table in the middle of the room, Stacy started up the conversation again. She asked Leah, "Was your father a reporter as well?"

"No," Leah answered, "he was a television producer. He came to work at CNN in their earliest days before they even went on the air. I grew up around television, so I suppose it's not surprising I'd want to follow in my Dad's footsteps. My older sisters did other things but I wanted to work in television just like my father."

Leah then steered the conversation back to us. She wanted to know about our backgrounds and how we ended up together in a hotel room on the day of "The Battle of Havana," as she called it. Feeling certain it was now safe to talk about my previous trip, I told how I had come here the year before and met Felicita, and how she had helped me scout out business prospects. I had returned home, heartbroken, to wait for a chance to return to Cuba. Leah asked Felicita about what the waiting was like for her. Felicita held on to my hand tightly as she told of the lonely months waiting and hoping that I would return someday.

I told her what had transpired after Fidel's death. How I had recruited Brian and Stacy as the core of my staff. We had gotten permission to come here legally. Gustavo was held up in Mexico so it was just the three of us. Leah wanted to hear more about Felicita, so I told her how we had searched for each other until I found her in the bar behind the hotel. From there, we all took turns filling her in on how we had captured the attention of the new Cuban government with our appearance on CNN and been given lucrative contracts to import and export with the United States.

Leah questioned us in detail on what was going on inside our hotel room while the revolution took place below us. We relived it for her as well as we could remember. I could tell that Felicita was nervous about all this by the way her hand was sweating in my grasp. For my part, I felt confident and relaxed with her by my side. The nervousness I felt was for later that night.

By the time we were getting up to leave, Leah asked me why I called Castro by his first name. I explained that is how the Cubans always referred to him. His people knew him, lovingly or fearfully, as Fidel. I had picked it up from them.