The Coup - 2

By Peter Schoenau

It was 10:15 p.m. when a short man appeared at the entrance. His long arms swung back and forth as if they independent of the rest of his body. Before turning his head in the direction of the table by the wall, he scanned the other tables and then, apparently satisfied, turned toward him.

A smile pursed his meaty lips and wrinkles fanned out from his eyes. He raised his right arm a little and said, "Hola."

As he sat down, he scanned the room again.

"I see that the old methods still work."

"At least we can count on that, you agree?"

Federico cast a glance at the other's Mojito. "You haven't changed."

The smile of the other man expanded somewhat. He signaled at the waiter. "Another one."

The fashion show ended. They were the last guests at the restaurant.

The waiter brought the Mojito. Federico sipped to test it. He fingered the glass.

"Much has changed over the past four years," Federico began cautiously. "We are a country that runs at two different speeds. Those with access to the dollar fare better. They have certain privileges and are considered wealthy by their neighbors. The others are more or less content. At the moment, the level of discontent is manageable, but it's growing. The repressive tactics are less obvious, they work on a more subtle level…"

They toasted one another.

"For example, the well-targeted distribution of homes, the restricted hand-out of milk and meat coupons, the public denunciation of students who try to avoid joining the work brigades. Of course, this is reflected in their grades. The same old principle is still firmly in place. Everything for the revolution, and nothing against it."

"We'll toss a rock into the pond," he interrupted, "and make waves. At the same time, our action should create the means for further actions."

"Good enough," said Federico, "so tell me, what are your plans?"

He bent forward. "The post office at the central train station. Huge amounts of money are stored there and it is practically without security."

Federico nodded.

"We need a reliable escape vehicle and a second man. I thought of Miguel."

"Yeah, Miguel would be good."

"Are you going to talk to him?"

"Sure. I think he'll be willing. He's reliable. He's never disappointed us."

"Okay. So who's in charge of security at the train station?"

Federico twisted the glass between thumb and index finger. "An old friend."

The other man looked at him quizzically.

"Carlos, Capitán Carlos Mendoza. Yes, even he has risen in the ranks."

"Carlos, well"

"You were close friends back then, isn't that right?"

"That's right. We were good friends. We're both from Pinar del Río, and later on, we met again at university. We shared everything, sometimes even our women."

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