Noreen came out of the house and down the front steps. A glass was in her hand, and it wasn’t empty. She didn’t look drunk. She didn’t even sound drunk. But since I was probably drunk myself, none of that counted for anything.

“What’s the matter?” she asked me. “Change your mind about leaving, did you?” There was a note of sarcasm in her voice.

“That’s right,” I said. “I came back to see if anyone had an unwanted copy of The Communist Manifesto.”

“You could have said something when you left,” she said stiffly.

“It’s a funny thing, but I didn’t think anyone would mind.”

“So why did you come back?”

“The militia are setting up roadblocks in the area,” López explained. “Your friend was kind enough to come back here to warn me of the danger.”

“Why would they do that?” she asked him. “There aren’t any targets the rebels would want to attack around here. Are there?”

López said nothing.

“What he’s trying to say,” I said, “is that it depends on what you mean by a target. On the way back here I saw a sign for an electricity-generating station. That’s just the kind of target the rebels might pick. After all, there’s a lot more to fighting a revolution than assassinating government officials and hiding weapons. Cutting the electricity supply helps to demoralize the population at large. Makes them believe the government is losing control. It’s also a lot safer than an attack on an army garrison. Isn’t that right, López?”

López was looking bemused. “I don’t get it. You’re not at all sympathetic to our cause, and yet you took a risk coming back here to warn me. Why?”

“The phone lines are down,” I said. “Otherwise I’d have called.”

López grinned and shook his head. “No. I still don’t get it.”

I shrugged. “It’s true, I don’t like communism. But sometimes it pays to back the underdog. Like Braddock versus Baer in 1935. Besides, I thought it would embarrass you all—me, a bourgeois reactionary and an apologist for fascism, coming back here to pull your Bolshevik nuts out of the fire.”

Noreen shook her head and smiled. “With you, that’s just bloody-minded enough to be true.”

I grinned and bowed slightly in her direction. “I knew you’d see the funny side.”

“Bastard.”

“You know, it might not be safe for you to go back through the roadblock,” said López. “They might remember you and put two and two together. Even the militia aren’t so stupid that they can’t make four.”

“Fredo’s right,” said Noreen. “It’s not safe for you to go back into Havana tonight, Gunther. It might be better if you stayed here tonight.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble,” I said.