HavanaT
he GRU contingent arrived right on time. They didn’t bother with preliminaries, merely nodded and strolled into the office struggling with the weight of two large canvas satchels. They eased the weight off their shoulders and plopped the satchels on a coffee table. The Director General of Cuban Intelligence rose from behind his desk to get a first look at his prize. The junior man unzipped each bag and pointed at the bundles of U.S. currency bound in plastic sheeting. “Five million,” he said, “in U.S. currency.”
“Five million?” There was a squeak in Panteros’ voice as he contemplated being ripped off or short-changed again. He’d already made arrangements for a large payment to a banker colleague who would secretly store the cash until time to start spreading it around in the righ
