Excerpt
The following day when they met in the early afternoon as usual, he pulled her up a side street, then stopped. He brought his face very close to hers and she thought he would kiss her, but instead he surprised her by asking, “Do you trust me?”
“That’s a big question. What do you mean?”
Seeing her confusion, he said in English, “I mean—do you believe that I would not harm you or let others harm you?”
“Oh yes, I do,” Jennifer breathed. That was so much easier to answer.
“I want to take you to a special place. But it is a low place, a modest place, and I do not want that you feel afraid of me.”
“No, I won’t feel afraid. Let’s go.” They continued walking along back streets for several blocks, then he suddenly dived into a dark alley.
“Follow me. Don’t let anyone see.” The alley emerged into a courtyard surrounded by a crumbling old building. Peeping through one window to a room almost at ground level, she could see that it was empty, that no one except rats had occupied it in a long time. She asked nervously, “Do people really live here?”
He led her through a door strapped with bands of iron and into a maze of hallways with no signs of occupation except for some rustling in a corner, until they reached an apartment door. Volodya knocked three times, then stopped and smiled at her. Eventually they heard an answering knock then all was quiet.
“That is my friend, Ernesto,” he whispered.
“That’s not a Russian name.”
“No, this is a very special friend from Cuba. He plays the piano.”
Volodya pressed her hand under his arm, and Ernesto opened the door a crack and peered out—two bloodshot eyes set in an olive-skinned face and topped by wisps of stringy hair. “You again,” he growled.
Volodya inserted his foot in the door and pushed it in while keeping up a rapid chatter in Russian with a sprinkling of Spanish words. “Please, molodets, good guy. I bring you a guest from a foreign country—a compadre. Open the door.”
Libros Libertad 