S O I KNEW NOTHING about world affairs. We all knew that Cubans living in South Florida had a strong lobby. And we all knew that when Castro finally abdicated the throne it could be a boon to all of us who were within a stone’s throw of the island. James and I had even discussed a restaurant in Havana. We were stoned or drunk at the time, but I remember talking about it. But now I’d been briefed by a genuine Caribbean, a Bahamian, someone who understood the politics of the region and I realized I didn’t know what I thought I knew. It had never affected my life before. Now, I wondered if it could affect my death.
The Lexus veered to the right and took an exit into downtown Miami. Angel smoothly followed, winding past palms and brush, and turning under the highway. There was no reason for the two men in the Lexus to be concerned. Three other vehicles pulled off at the same time.
“Do you know the area?” James obviously didn’t.
Angel’s face was grim. “Industrial. About twelve blocks up is the Miami River. Shipping, warehousing.”
We could see the car leading us in the next block. Now there was just the Jeep and the Lexus. We drove by boarded-up buildings and a commercial dry cleaning establishment. At this hour of the night there wasn’t much happening. Angel turned right and the Lexus went straight.
“Whoa!” James shouted from the backseat. “Angel, man, he’s going the other way.”
“I’m going to go up one block, then cut back in. Just in case he noticed us following him.”
I looked at the black guy with admiration. “You have done this before, haven’t you?”
He gave me a little smile. One block up he cut left to the main road, then right. Now the white car was two blocks up, but well in sight.
James clapped his hands. “Bravo, Mario Andretti. Your driving skills are to be admired.”
The buildings were now all concrete block or vinyl and metal siding. I could make out cranes and heavy construction equipment for almost an entire block, and I could smell the water. An iodine, rotting seaweed, and decaying fish odor mixed with an oily smell, the kind you associate with diesel engines.
We drove three more blocks and I could see the end of the street. The Lexus’s headlights bounced off a metal guardrail with diagonal red-striped tape and Angel pulled over and killed the lights.
“Too close. We’ll see if he goes right or left, then we’ll pick him up.”
He turned right.
The taillights had just cleared the corner when Angel pulled out from the curb. He flipped on the lights and raced to the dead end. As he eased out, we all three peered down the side street that ran along the water to the right. There was absolutely no sign of the Lexus.