I did not say any of the things that occurred to me.

“Felt you might be right for it. If there’s anything to it, that is. If there’s any game at all, not to speak of whether or not it’s worth the candle. But your background, your contacts, your languages, your special talents – I thought it might be down your alley.”

“I see,” I lied.

“You can turn it down if you want.”

“It’s like that?”

“Yes.” He sighed, started to lift the Scotch bottle, then set it down again. I’ve never seen him drunk and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him not drinking. Perhaps he’s drunk all the time and it simply doesn’t show. I drew a deep breath and began to think of reasons why I couldn’t possibly go to Havana. My mind wasn’t working well. I think it was the overwhelming smell of leather that was getting to me. I had always liked the smell of leather before.

“I would like you to go-”

“To Havana,” I said.

“ Havana?” He looked confused. “No, not Havana. Why on earth should you go to Havana? I want you to go to Montreal.”

“It’s the Cuban Pavilion,” he was saying. “You know there’s a World’s Fair in Montreal this year. Expo, they call it. Man and His World, that’s the theme of it. Makes things rather simple for the exhibitors, wouldn’t you say? I’d be hard put to think of anything that wouldn’t fit the overall theme of Man and His World. Even Sally Rand, for heaven’s sake.

“ Cuba is one of the participating nations. The theme of the Cuban Pavilion is revolution. Or Man and His Revolution, I don’t know. Quite a shocking display they have, from what I hear. All the other countries offer rather pleasant displays of native crafts and burgeoning industry and dynamic agriculture, and the Cubans confront one with posters and machine guns and the most blatant propaganda in history. One walks past all of these screaming posters, then enters their little restaurant and has a rum drink and a Havana cigar. That’s what they’re selling – rum and cigars and revolution.”