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quite recently, it was a serious offense for a Cuban citizen to be found with American dollars in his pocket. It could actually net someone two or three years in jail.”
    Jack whistled.
    â€œThen a couple of years back, Fidel decides that the black market is bleeding his lousy economy dry. The best solution, he concludes, is to channel back the contraband dollars by making them legal. So they’ve got a dual economy these days . . . dollars and pesos are both legal tender. A hard and a soft currency, sitting side by side. You’re an intelligent fellow, Jackie. You can figure out what the result of that would be.”
    â€œThe hard destroys the soft. Pesos have become worthless?”
    â€œPrecisely! These poor sons-of-bitches”—Pierre waved generally at the city around him—“have pockets full of Cuban money, earned with the sweat of their brows, and it’s like toilet paper—they can’t buy a damned thing with the stuff. The state-run food stores are pretty much empty. Rations have been cut. If you want a decent meal, you have to go to the free-trade markets, and they only accept dollars. The same in any good restaurant, cafe, or club. Hard currency only.”
    Jack’s eyes widened with astonishment. “You’re telling me these people can’t walk into a decent bar in their own country and buy themselves a drink, and we can ?”
    A sly, triumphant grin had started up between Pierre’s whiskers.
    â€œOh, they can go into a bad bar. They can stand in line outside some beat-up old cantina for one bottle of warm, flat beer. But we can sip daiquiris at the Floridita any time we like. Eat at the best restaurants. Dance at the best nightclubs. We’re like kings here, Jack. The new conquistadors.”
    Jack felt stunned. The full implications of what he was hearing were only just beginning to sink in. “Everyone here must be hustling like crazy for hard currency.”
    â€œI knew you’d figure it out. A bellhop is better paid in Havana than a college professor because he gets hard currency tips. And if you can’t do it the legal way, there are plenty of others. I suppose you’ve already met the guys around the square?”
    â€œPersistent, aren’t they?”
    â€œEverybody is. Take Lola and Nona.” He jerked his thumb back. “Give them thirty bucks and they’ll do anything you want. And I mean anything . Life is good, no?”
    Jack still found it difficult to take the concept in. There was a tightness growing at the center of his chest, simply at the thought of people being abased this way. And he’d seen a lot since he had come to Latin America. But it was like these guys were third-class citizens in their own country. And that didn’t seem an awful lot to crow about.
    â€œGoddamn it,” Jack managed at last. “There are times when I don’t like you a great deal, Pierre. And maybe this is one of those times.”
    â€œAw, c’mon!” Pierre’s voice was vibrant with laughter. “I didn’t create this situation. I’m merely taking advantage of it.”
    They were walking down one of the narrow alleys. It looked tighter, more oppressive than it had this afternoon. But perhaps that was more to do with his mood.
    Jack gazed at the passing locals in a whole new light. They looked like a proud race. Offering them sympathy would be like offering the two girls pesos, a currency they had no use for. The only thing they wanted was to get on with their lives, and he thought that people should respect that.
    â€œOkay then,” he asked Pierre, something new occurring to him. “If you’re using this to take advantage of the situation, where exactly are your dollars coming from?”
    Pierre lowered his voice again. “Where does anyone get real money these days?”
    â€œYou’re dealing?”
    â€œNot just that, Jack. I’m