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Max dragged Castillo through the lobby and out onto the street and headed for the first tree, which was to the left, away from the park Sieno had spoken of.
“Your call, Max,” Castillo muttered. “As if I have a choice.”
It became quickly obvious that Max did indeed have a massive need to meet the urinary call of nature.
“Can we go to the park now?” Castillo asked, in Hungarian, when he had finally finished.
Max looked at Castillo, considered the question, then dragged Castillo farther away from the park.
The apartment building next to 1568 Arribeños was brightly lit. But beyond it, the street quickly became dark, as there were no brightly lit buildings and the streetlights were not functioning.
Max sniffed every tree, came to an intersection, dragged Castillo across it, then across Arribeños, where he began nasally inspecting the trees there. When he had stopped at the third tree, there was a click and the sidewalk was brilliantly illuminated by floodlights mounted on an old mansion.
They were turned on by motion sensors.
Well, why not? That’s cheaper than burning floodlights all night.
Then he noticed the bronze sign mounted on the wall of the old building. It read EMBASSY OF THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CUBA.
“Oh, shit!”
I am not really conversant with the security practices of the Cuban diplomatic service but it seems reasonable to assume that if they have gone to the trouble of installing motion-activated floodlights so they can see who is loitering in front of their embassy, said motion sensors more than likely also activate one or more surveillance cameras.
He looked at Max, who apparently had taken Castillo’s exclamation as a command and now was evacuating his bowels.
Max isn’t going to go anywhere until he finishes!
Our likenesses are now recorded and filed under Item 405 on the Suspicious Activity Log of the embassy security officer.
Congratulations, Inspector Clouseau, you’ve just done it again!
Aw, fuck it!
Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, USA, turned to face the Cuban embassy, put his right hand on his abdomen, bowed deeply, and said, “Up yours, Fidel!”
[TWO]
“Have a nice long walk, did you?” Eric Kocian asked as Castillo and Max came back into t
he Sieno living room.
Max trotted over to Kocian, gave him his paw, allowed his head to be patted, then lay down by the footstool.
“The Cubans now have a floodlighted recording of Max making an enormous deposit on their sidewalk while I cheered him on.”
“What?” Kocian asked.
“That’s why, Colonel,” Sieno said, masterfully keeping a straight face, “I suggested you go to the park.”
“Max had other ideas,” Castillo said, then asked, “Can they make me?”
Sieno thought it over before replying.
“Anybody follow you here?”
“I don’t think so. I came back by…” He stopped. “From the embassy, I went down the hill, turned left, and came back that way. I didn’t see anybody following me.”
“Then I don’t see how. Let’s hope they think you were a wine-filled Argentine.”
