Read Where There's Smoke for Free Online Page A

they usually slam you with it. This must be a doozy.
    Then, in silk, Swindt had asked, “Joseph, do you know about the ‘Trading with the Enemy Act?’”

    Joseph had tensed. This sounded serious. Was one of their companies dirty? If so, some sonofabitch’s head was going to roll.
    â€œWell, Peter, I can pretty well guess what it is. Sounds self-explanatory. Don’t do business with the bad guys, right?”
    Swindt had chuckled. “Something like that. In this case the bad guys live in Cuba. Tomorrow the president is going to announce an extension of our policy regarding Cuba. Part of that policy will involve U.S. citizens traveling to Cuba. That will be illegal.”
    So far, so good, Joseph had thought. Doesn’t sound like any of our operations are involved in anything they shouldn’t be. In the old days, there would probably have been an opportunity here.
    â€œThis means many things, Joseph. But there is one specific application that will affect the president personally, something I am sure, as a cigar lover, you will understand.”
    Downshifting for a curve, Joseph recalled the feeling of a curtain lifting as the president’s aide had revealed his hand.
    Bingo, he had thought. That Peter. Lays the bullshit on for the public so thick it hides him. Then, when he wants something, be cuts through it like a hot knife through butter. Better make it easy for him, whatever he wants. At least it sounds doable .
    â€œHow can I help, Peter?” he had asked.
    There had been no pause that time.
    â€œThe president has asked me to see that his stock of Cuban cigars, particularly pre-Castro vintage cigars, is
well supplied. After tomorrow the travel restrictions and trade embargo will make it impossible for him to replenish.
    â€œNow we do not envision these restrictions will be in place very long, but one never knows. Because of the president’s duties as head of state, demands are made on his stock of cigars, making it imperative that an adequate supply be secured before the restrictions take effect. Following his announcement tomorrow, we anticipate a run on all domestic sources, which will rapidly deplete them. By the day after tomorrow, it will be impossible to purchase Cuban cigars in the United States.”
    Joseph had nodded, thinking. This meant little to him. He had inherited a humidified warehouse full of the finest cigars in the world, reputed to include the single largest collection of vintage Cuban cigars in existence. After that unfortunate business with old Salazar, the Don had sent most of the old man’s cigars to New York. And then, to hedge his bet as to which way Cuba’s political winds would blow, he had prudently sent the rest of the Noches Cubanas collection north. It had been the Don’s intention to preserve them to draw upon as gifts for whichever faction prevailed. As it turned out, Castro had no use for the Bonafaccios and had plenty of his own cigars.
    â€œSo, I repeat. How can I help you?” Joseph had asked, sensing where the conversation was headed.
    â€œA donation, Joseph,” Swindt had replied. “A cigar donation. The president has set some modest guidelines for me to follow. One thousand of the finest Cuban cigars. I will arrange to purchase some immediately, but do not wish to attract attention before the announcement. The
acquisition of these cigars must be treated discreetly, as the public would not understand. If you would contribute some cigars to this effort, the president would be very appreciative.”
    â€œDone, Peter,” Joseph had responded immediately, pleased that the administration had turned to him with this sensitive request he was uniquely equipped to satisfy. “Five hundred cigars. All vintage pre-Castro Cubans. That’ll be twenty boxes. How’s that sound? Need more?”
    â€œNo, no, Joseph. That’s plenty. Very generous. Most of the president’s stock of cigars is kept