Chutsky led the way to a low table with a cluster of easy chairs around it and he nudged his briefcase under the table as we sat down. “Pretty nice view, huh?” he said.

“Very pretty” I said. “Is that why we came here?”

“No, I told you” he said. “We're gonna meet a friend.” Whether he was kidding me or not, that was apparently all he was going to say on the subject. In any case, the waiter appeared at our table at that point. “Two mojitos” Chutsky said.

“Actually, I think I'll stick to beer”1 said, remembering my mojitoinduced nap a little earlier.

Chutsky shrugged. “Suit yourself” he said. “Try a Crystal, it's pretty good.”

I nodded at the waiter; if I could trust Chutsky for anything at all, I was pretty sure it would be beer selection. The waiter nodded back and went to the bar to get our drinks and the trio launched into “Guantanamera'.

We'd had no more than one sip of our drinks when I saw a man approaching our table. He was very short and dressed in brown slacks and a lime green guayabera, and he carried a briefcase that looked very much like Chutsky's.

Chutsky jumped up and held out his hand. “Ee-bangh!” he yelled, and it took me a moment to realize that Chusky was not experiencing a sudden attack of Tourette's syndrome, but only the Cuban pronunciation of the newcomer's name, Ivan. Ee-bangh held out his hand, too, and embraced Chutsky as they shook hands.

“Cahm-BEYL!” Ee-bangh said, and again it took a moment —this time because I hadn't really remembered that Chutsky was Reverend Campbell Freeney. By the time all the gears had meshed Ivan had turned to look at me with one raised eyebrow.

“Oh, hey” Chutsky said, “this is David Marcey. David, Ivan Echeverria.”

“Mucho gusto,” Ivan said, shaking my hand.

“Nice to meet you” I told him in English, since I was not sure whether “David” spoke any Spanish at all.