a small living on the waterfront, cleaning and helping to service the many yachts of the rich.
He liked Pedro and listened to Pedro's constant complaints. This evening, he had decided that Pedro was ripe for a job that could make Fuentes some three thousand dollars. Fuentes believed that risks were not for him. If a man could pick up three thousand dollars and find someone to take the risk, the idea was worth considering.
Speaking in a low voice, he said, 'Pedro. How would you like to pick up a thousand dollars?'
Pedro twiddled his glass of warming beer, then looked at Fuentes. 'Why talk this way? A thousand dollars? With that money I could take my wife and myself back to my father's farm. What are you saying?'
Fuentes smiled. His smile was like the flickering tongue of a snake.
'It can be arranged. It depends on you. A thousand dollars! Nice, huh?'
Pedro nodded.
'More than nice. Keep talking.'
'You know where my room is on Coral Street? The big block of walk-ups?'
'I know it.'
'There are seventy tenants in this block. Each of them pays sixty dollars a week rent. That makes a take of forty two hundred dollars. Right?'
'So what?' Pedro asked.
'You and I could grab that dough. To you, it'll be as easy as screwing your wife.'
Pedro's eyes narrowed. A thousand easy dollars!
'Keep talking,' he said. 'You've got me interested.'
'Living in this block is Abe Levi. He works for the people who own the block. He's their rent collector as well as the janitor. Every Friday he goes from flat to flat and collects the rent money: forty two hundred dollars. He goes back to his flat, writes the amounts up, then the following morning takes the money to the rental office. He's been doing this for years. I've watched him. Now Levi is a creep without spine. If you waved a gun in his face, he would faint. He is fat and old. All we have to do is to walk in while he's counting the dough, wave a gun in his face and we have got forty two hundred dollars. I tell you, Pedro, it's as easy and simple as that.'
Pedro's eyes sparkled.
'I like it,' he said. 'So . . . tomorrow?'
'Yes.' Fuentes gave his snake's smile. 'But you have to handle Levi. If I walked in, he would recognize me, but you, waving the gun, he wouldn't know. I stay outside, you do the business . . . right?'
Pedro's eyes lost their sparkle. He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
'So you don't take a risk, but I do . . . right?'
'There is no risk.' Fuentes leaned forward and patted Pedro's arm. 'You walk in, wave the gun, Levi faints, you collect the money, and we're both happy.'
'For this, I want two thousand,' Pedro said firmly.
Fuentes grimaced.
'Because we are friends, I am offering you the chance to make money. I can get anyone to do this job. It's so easy. No. Two thousand is out.'
'Fifteen hundred or you find someone else.'
Fuentes hesitated, then gave his snake's smile.
'Agreed.' He leaned forward, 'Let's talk about it.'
When Anita climbed the five flights of stairs and entered her one room home, she found Pedro lying on the bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a contented smile on his face.
Anita was off duty until 20.00 when she returned to the hotel to once again clean the penthouse suite. The time now was 17.00, and she was feeling tired and depressed, but seeing Pedro so relaxed, she brightened.
'You have found a job!' she exclaimed. 'I can see it on your face!'
'Saturday we return to Havana,' Pedro said. 'I'll have the money for the flight, and enough for us to help my father.'
Anita stared at him. 'But that is not possible!'
'Yes it is.' He put his hand under the pillow and produced the .38 revolver Fuentes had given him. 'With this, anything is possible.'
Anita sat down abruptly, feeling faint. For some time now she had suspected that Pedro would be driven to do something desperate.
'Darling, please! You mustn't!'
Pedro pushed the gun under the pillow.
'I have had enough.' His thin face turned vicious. 'I must have money to
He liked Pedro and listened to Pedro's constant complaints. This evening, he had decided that Pedro was ripe for a job that could make Fuentes some three thousand dollars. Fuentes believed that risks were not for him. If a man could pick up three thousand dollars and find someone to take the risk, the idea was worth considering.
Speaking in a low voice, he said, 'Pedro. How would you like to pick up a thousand dollars?'
Pedro twiddled his glass of warming beer, then looked at Fuentes. 'Why talk this way? A thousand dollars? With that money I could take my wife and myself back to my father's farm. What are you saying?'
Fuentes smiled. His smile was like the flickering tongue of a snake.
'It can be arranged. It depends on you. A thousand dollars! Nice, huh?'
Pedro nodded.
'More than nice. Keep talking.'
'You know where my room is on Coral Street? The big block of walk-ups?'
'I know it.'
'There are seventy tenants in this block. Each of them pays sixty dollars a week rent. That makes a take of forty two hundred dollars. Right?'
'So what?' Pedro asked.
'You and I could grab that dough. To you, it'll be as easy as screwing your wife.'
Pedro's eyes narrowed. A thousand easy dollars!
'Keep talking,' he said. 'You've got me interested.'
'Living in this block is Abe Levi. He works for the people who own the block. He's their rent collector as well as the janitor. Every Friday he goes from flat to flat and collects the rent money: forty two hundred dollars. He goes back to his flat, writes the amounts up, then the following morning takes the money to the rental office. He's been doing this for years. I've watched him. Now Levi is a creep without spine. If you waved a gun in his face, he would faint. He is fat and old. All we have to do is to walk in while he's counting the dough, wave a gun in his face and we have got forty two hundred dollars. I tell you, Pedro, it's as easy and simple as that.'
Pedro's eyes sparkled.
'I like it,' he said. 'So . . . tomorrow?'
'Yes.' Fuentes gave his snake's smile. 'But you have to handle Levi. If I walked in, he would recognize me, but you, waving the gun, he wouldn't know. I stay outside, you do the business . . . right?'
Pedro's eyes lost their sparkle. He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
'So you don't take a risk, but I do . . . right?'
'There is no risk.' Fuentes leaned forward and patted Pedro's arm. 'You walk in, wave the gun, Levi faints, you collect the money, and we're both happy.'
'For this, I want two thousand,' Pedro said firmly.
Fuentes grimaced.
'Because we are friends, I am offering you the chance to make money. I can get anyone to do this job. It's so easy. No. Two thousand is out.'
'Fifteen hundred or you find someone else.'
Fuentes hesitated, then gave his snake's smile.
'Agreed.' He leaned forward, 'Let's talk about it.'
When Anita climbed the five flights of stairs and entered her one room home, she found Pedro lying on the bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips and a contented smile on his face.
Anita was off duty until 20.00 when she returned to the hotel to once again clean the penthouse suite. The time now was 17.00, and she was feeling tired and depressed, but seeing Pedro so relaxed, she brightened.
'You have found a job!' she exclaimed. 'I can see it on your face!'
'Saturday we return to Havana,' Pedro said. 'I'll have the money for the flight, and enough for us to help my father.'
Anita stared at him. 'But that is not possible!'
'Yes it is.' He put his hand under the pillow and produced the .38 revolver Fuentes had given him. 'With this, anything is possible.'
Anita sat down abruptly, feeling faint. For some time now she had suspected that Pedro would be driven to do something desperate.
'Darling, please! You mustn't!'
Pedro pushed the gun under the pillow.
'I have had enough.' His thin face turned vicious. 'I must have money to
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