'Senor Hugo! What a surprise!', I hear another voice- male- say. I look up. A brown-haired middle-aged man in an Italian three-piece suit stretches his hands as he walks up to us. Hugo relaxes a little and smiles back. They both hug.
I look at the two exchange pleasantries, fortunately in English. Then Hugo [the middle-aged man] turns to me. 'And you are?'. 'Ivory Irvine. I'm uh...'. 'A tourist. A nosy tourist', Hugo says, winking at his namesake, who nods knowingly. 'I see. Isabel tells me you do not speak Spanish. True?'.
'Yes. I'm sorry, I don't understand the language'.
He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to sympathize with me. 'That will make our conversation a little difficult, I'm afraid'.
Hugo looks at me, eyes questioning. I turn to his namesake. 'It's okay. I'll try my very best not to speak the language during our conversation', he says, 'Well then, shall we go in?'.
Hugo sits and indicates that he'll wait here. I nod and enter into a study; presumably Hugo's study. I look around. The table alone is coated with gold. Pure gold. 'Have a seat Señora Ivory'. 'Thank you very much'. I sink into the plushness of a couch. It's like I'm sitting on a cloud. It's a marvelous feeling.
'Let's hear your request, Señora', he says after dismissing one of his assistants to go get a cup of tea for me. He had a strange way of saying it though. I'd better be careful. I don't know if I'm safe around Hugo 1; Hugo 2 might be even worse.
'I'm here to ask if you have any information concerning any missile launch'. Start small, dream big.
He laughs and pours a glass of Scotch for himself, then knocks it back in one gulp. I'm impressed. 'Well, Señora, I have lots of information about missiles. But as you know, nothing good comes easy'.
'I'm prepared for that', I reply defiantly. He's not going to give in just like that. 'Alright then. But please be specific. What exactly do you mean?'.
'Any info about bombs?'. I cannot believe I'm sitting opposite to a man I know nothing about apart from the fact that his- wife?- was stolen from Hugo 1.
'I need specification'. How many times am I going to specify? If I'm going to get anything out of this man, I have to think. I cannot divulge the fact that I'm an agent, but getting the slightest information is necessary.
'Uh...nuclear bombs?'. How can I be sure he knows anything? He might be a fake! My mind screams at me. Yeah, but...let's give it a shot, alright?!, I yell back.
'Hmm. Interesting topic', he says and strokes his beard. The assistant comes in with the coffee. He speaks in Spanish so rapidly, if I'm not listening I won't hear what he says.
'Did you add the spice?'.
'Yes sir'.
'How long?'.
'About one hour and a half sir'.
'Perfect. You will be highly rewarded'.
The assistant beams and leaves the room.
Hold on, hold on, hold on, my mind says. Are they planning to drug you?
I think so, I reply. What do we do?
We? It's you alone that's facing this, not me.
You're useless, I reply and look at Hugo 2, biting my lip.
'Enjoy'. His smile looks so sincere, I'm doubting myself. I nod and take the tiniest sip I can ever take in my life.
'Señora, this information about bombs is uh, very complicated. You see, there are the minor plans and the major plans. As a business man, selling these information is dangerous. So I'm afraid I'd have to raise the stakes of my price'.
'I understand. I'm talking about a major plan. A bomb that can destroy the earth'. That's close enough. He eyes the cup of tea. 'I see. Well...'.
'Four million dollars'.
He closes his eyes. 'Four million dollars. No, no. Not enough'.
'Four point five million'. His eyes remain closed. 'I will not take it'. 'Six'. 'I'm afraid not Senora'.
I'm desperate. 'If you give me enough information, I will give you seven million dollars. No more, no less'. His eyes flutter open. 'Seven million U.S dollars?'.
'Seven million U.S dollars'.
He sighs. 'A hundred and eighty-five million Cuban Pesos'. 'Mm-hmm'. 'That's dangerous money here'. 'And I'm giving it to you on a platter of gold. Just tell me what plans you know about a bombing that can wipe out the entire Earth'.
He licks his lips as his brain tries to process what I'm offering. 'There are a group of people planning to destroy three planets; Earth, Mars and Venus. If possible, they'd extend it to Jupiter'.
Knew that already. 'They call it OPERATION IVORY'. 'Where are they situated?'. 'In a small town on the Eastern part of Cuba. Bayamo. In the Granma Region'.
'Do you know why they're doing this?'.
'They discovered a new planet. These people want to move everyone there. But they know that without destroying Earth, individuals will be unwilling to do so'.
'Can you tell me their exact location?'. I badly want to drink the tea.
He nods and presses a button. A geographic map comes up and a green light blinks. 'Latitude 20.3700 ©N, 76.6780©W Longitude. That's it'.
'Thank you'. 'I have to warn you Señora, these individuals are dangerous. They'll kill at the slightest note. Be careful'.
I smile. 'Of course I will'. I stand up and lay the cash on the table, enclosed in case. 'Here you go. Enjoy'. His smile is half-hearted. 'I appreciate it'. He looks at the cup. 'Will you not finish your tea?'.
I smile. 'Maybe next time'.
I'm itching to tell him I know all about the tea plan. I don't. It's better to keep it to yourself.
*
'How did it go?'.
'Perfectly', I reply and fall on the couch. Hugo looks at me amused. 'That's all?'. 'Obviously. What else?'. 'Who is that girl?'. He stops smiling and begins to rope a napkin around his arm. 'Nothing to worry about'.
'Ex-girlfriend?'. 'How did you know?'. He stops roping the napkin around his arm. 'Uh...things are easy to see from the eyes'. I pick up the remote. 'She does reveal her emotions easily, doesn't she?'. He drops the napkin. 'I know you don't want to tell me the story. I'll pass too. I hate that girl'.
'What?'.
'Did you see the way she looked at me like I was some boyfriend snatcher? Disgusting'. I focus on the television. It's an entertainment program.
'You looked ready to punch her too'. He laughs. 'It was an act of defense'.
I suddenly realize that I've got to get packing. 'Do you know the easiest way to go with a car to Bayamo?'. He looks up from his phone. 'Why do you need to go there?'.
'It's private. Now tell me'. 'You're leaving?'. Somehow it seems like he's sad about it. I scoff. 'Yup'. 'Why?'. 'It's private'.
'Does Mr. Deville know?'. Ford. Oh goodness. If I don't call him Hugo would never let me out of his sight. I fish my phone out from my purse. 'Excuse me'. I enter the room allocated to me.
'I'm listening', he says when he answers. 'I'm going to Bayamo'. 'Why?'.
'It's the basis of our problems'. Somehow saying why in a room that does not rightfully belong to me does not sound right. 'The basis of...you mean the location, don't you?'. 'It's a coding language'.
'When do you leave?'. 'I'm thinking tomorrow'. 'Alright. I'll keep in touch'. 'You never keep in touch. I do'. 'Funny'. He ends the call. 'Basis of our problems? You and Mr. Deville a thing? Probably that's why he cares so much about you', Hugo says from the doorpost. I spin around and frown. 'No way. It's absolutely impossible'. 'Alright. So you leave tomorrow huh?'.
'Mm-hmm'. I shove him out of the room and lock the door, then scroll online for an airplane ticket.
'You could take the car with you, you know', he yells from outside.
I drop my phone. 'How?'. 'I'll just drive you there. Then I'll take a plane back'. I squeeze my face. 'You're right'. 'But I have to warn you; the trip is really long'. 'Of course it is'. According to my research, it's almost a ten hours' drive. But I can manage. Right?
The next day I roll my box out of the room with my new hair and skin color. Hugo bites his lip. 'You're really going?'.
'You're talking like I'm your sister. I'm the avenue of your paycheck. You have your money'. 'It's just that...I rarely get to have people in my home. You're one of the first'. 'After that girl with the hate eyes?', I ask, wiggling my eyes comically. He laughs from the side of his mouth. 'Maybe'.
'Hey, it's alright. You'd find another one'. That's one of the nicest things I can say to someone. He should be thankful. 'Of course I will', he replies, his expression unreadable.
'Goodness. Love talk', I grunt and leave the house to my car. He follows me from behind and locks the door. 'I have to admit; I really love the time we got to fight people'. He flexes his muscles. 'I haven't done that in a long time'.
I pass a finger under my nose. 'Look who's happy'. I drop my box in the back compartment. He moves into the driver's seat. I go to the passenger's. 'You sure you want me to drive? I'm pretty nervous'. 'Why?', I ask, buckling up. 'Well, it's your baby. And I drive recklessly'. 'I'll kill you if anything happens to her', I warn as I sit up. 'Start the car'.
'As what? Your driver?'. 'As the guy who will die if anything happens to her'. I'm serious. 'Even just a scratch?'. He straps himself to the seat. I turn to him. 'Do you want to dare me?'.
The engine roars and he zooms off.
We arrive at Bayamo eleven hours later, because someone forgot to fill up the fuel tank. And then someone decided to look for a toilet. Someone; Hugo. If my gun wasn't in my hand, goodness know where someone would have gone to next.
He exits the car and goes to the front of a huge building.
'Are you going to rent another condo?', he asks. I shake my head. 'I prefer a motel this time. After what happened, I need some time off those'. 'Good point'. He places his hands on his waist and looks around. 'But I don't see any here. We should drive around a bit'.
I strap myself to the seat again. 'Alright. Get in'.