Cuban Sun Read online

  Cuban Sun

  Ann and Bryn Bauer

  Copyright © 2013 Ann and Bryn Bauer

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13:

  DEDICATION

  For TJ, Tiny, Biscuit, Bri, Beans and family and friends

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  While the main plot and characters are fictional, some places and items in Cuban Sun exist. For example, the mystery of the Caracciola 500K is one that still fascinates us today.

  PROLOGUE

  Alexander Quintis jumped at the sudden blast of hard rock and roll that sounded from the inside of his desk. He shook his head trying to force himself back into the room. He opened the drawer and pushed aside class rosters and business cards to grab the cell. He didn’t need to look at the number. Only two people called him on this phone.

  “Helena, what do you have for me?” Quint had become increasingly restless over the last few months and craved another assignment. It had been more than six months since his last one. The lilting Irish accent responded.

  “Moreno confirmed our information and has already transferred the retainer fee.”

  “Excellent. When do you need me in Miami?”

  “Next week, we’ll need to move quickly. This is going to be like trying to corral shifting sand dunes.”

  “What?” Quint put his finger in one ear trying to hear over the racket on the other end of the phone.

  “What’s going on over there?” Helena gave an exasperated huff making him laugh.

  “It’s Joe; he’s practically clawing the phone out of my hand. He has a question for you. See you next week.” Alexander Quintis had to hold the phone a few inches from his ear upon hearing the burst of Spanish- laced greeting on the line.

  “Joe! How are you? I’m looking forward to seeing you next week. It sounds like everything has been finalized.”

  “Yeah, but we’re going to need a fourth for this one. Someone to do the leg work, especially as regards the 500k. Do you know anyone? Somebody green, hungry, tenacious.” He thought, casting his mind around at the lawyers he knew.

  “Joe, I don’t think...wait.” A smile crept across his wide mouth as he spied a brief sitting on top of the stack to be graded. It was from one of his more brilliant students. “Never mind Joe, I have the perfect person but it will take some persuading. I don’t think she’ll exactly jump at the chance.”

  “Well, you can talk anyone into anything. I’ll expect...wait, did you say it’s a woman?”

  “That’s right. Your hearing isn’t going yet. I’ll see you next week.” He hung up before Joe could ask questions. While Joe was his mentor, he could be very...nosey. He picked up his other cell and started a text. He found himself still smiling long after it had been sent.

  ONE

  Sofia Koury threw open the bifold closet doors so hard they nearly came off the hinges. Shit, I’m late.”Shit, shit, shit. She had exactly ten minutes to change and get back to the campus to meet with Alexander Quintis, her Ethics in Law professor and advisor at Charleston School of Law. He texted Sofia in her last class to schedule a meeting.

  Want to discuss latest argument and possible internship. Come at 5:00? - Quint

  Sofia felt an odd giddiness at seeing the name Quint. Only his friends and closer students or colleagues called him that. During their last meeting about an upcoming moot court competition he turned to Sofia, clearly exasperated.

  “For goodness sake Sofia, call me Quint would you? It’s two in the morning, we’re dirty, hungry and tired and we will be even more so before we’re done with writing this argument. Now is not the time for formalities.”

  Sofia’ caught her reflection in the mirror and saw the longing in her eyes. She automatically wiped it from her face. She had long been trained to keep a tight rein on showing her thoughts and emotions. Sofia savagely pushed her day-to-day boho clothing aside and pulled out a couple of sundresses. No, these were just too casual. Reluctantly, she reached into the back of the crowded closet; back to her ‘old life’. She grabbed her coral, summer weight wool skirt and the essential Carolina Herrera cotton wrap blouse. Hesitating only for a moment, she dressed, threw on four year old kitten heels, gave her long, walnut and amber hair a brush and dashed out. No time for anything else.

  Two blocks of walking in the summer heat was enough to make Sophia regret her choice of wardrobe. She plucked at the collar the blouse; the heat clung to her like a wet blanket. The summer weight wool and enclosing neck of the shirt were not meant for humid Charleston summers but for the relatively temperate Connecticut climate where they had last been worn. As she hurried down Meeting Street, passing restaurants and boutiques without a glance, she thought that Charleston summers…well, summer, spring and fall, were like being trapped in a terrarium; on the sun. No matter, she was in a place far away from Connecticut and her father. A place where she could be outside, on the water, and free. She skittered to a halt just inside the doors of 392 Meeting Street. She straightened her slightly wilted outfit and knocked on the beveled cherry wood office door.

  The muffled “Come on in” that sounded from inside the office brought back her earlier hunger, but she walked in straight-backed and confident, as always. Her upbringing among the blue bloods of Connecticut and New York conditioned her to show calm and confidence even if her legs felt like they were crafted by Salvador Dali.

  Quint sat behind a clear acrylic desk with his Mac whirring. Unlike the rest of his colleagues at the law school, Quint’s office was decidedly more Google than Law and Order. He looked up from the laptop and smiled. His short chestnut hair and cinnamon eyes were framed by the emotional Frank Stella piece behind him. Sofia judged it not to be a print or a knock off and was impressed by his level of taste. Her former life trained her eye to spot fakes in anything of value. Cars, fashion, art, wine. You name it.

  “You’re staring at the painting again”, Quint said with a grin.

  “Sorry, I still can’t get over you being an art guy. You never struck me as the artsy type. I’m not a post-modern girl myself, but I can still appreciate good work.”

  “Well, being a law professor isn’t all about books, lectures and briefs you know.”

  Sofia laughed. “Only for about ninety percent of law professors.”

  “Okay, you have me there. But, I’m happy that you put me in the ten percent.”

  Quint gestured to one of the streamlined tan leather meeting chairs around a small table where Sofia took a seat. His office while sleek and modern wasn’t cold. It showed his personality. The floating bookshelves by the table for instance, held just as many backpacking guides and sailing manuals as case law books. Quint went to the opposite wall which held a hanging rack for his bike and the magazine rack for trail maps. He replaced a map of the waters around Cuba. Hmmm, though Sofia didn’t expect that one either. At that moment she was sad to only be there to talk about class. She would have loved to ask him if he were taking a trip to Cuba. He followed her glance and intoned, “Tell me, O muse of travelers far and wide.” Sofia smiled.

  “Another quote from Homer?”

  “You bet.”

  “A quote for every occasion?”

  “Well, some people quote and find comfort in the Bible. For me it’s the Iliad and Odyssey. You know Odysseus is my hero. Quint swept his hand in a grand gesture towards the window. “He reminds me to get out there and be brave.” Sofia laughed again, a bubbling laugh like water coming to a boil in a kettle.

  “If you were any more ‘out there’ you would never be in here!”

  “Touché. Well, anyway, travel is a bit of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He sat in the chair next to hers at the small table. “But first, I want to ask you about your argument in class on the Sta
te of South Carolina v. Kepel. You took a very different approach than the rest of the class.”

  Heat came into Sofia’s cheeks and she hoped it didn’t show. She had been embarrassed to find this was true when she presented in class. She hoped this was not going to be a rebuke or a “you can do better” lecture. She started, “Yes, well, I wanted to show that-“.

  “It was good.” He interrupted.

  “Oh. Thank you.” Her pulse slowed slightly. At least she wasn’t failing the assignment.

  “Most of the class took the duress route or tried to argue for a lesser charge.” He looked at her directly, “You argued that Kepel’s actions should be sanctioned because although illegal, it prevented harm of a greater number of people. That’s definitely a risky argument. The precedence is against you but the philosophers are with you.”

  Sofia spoke emphatically. “I know, but it fit. By killing one person, he prevented the deaths of at least twelve others. The evidence showed that the victim was planning some kind of massacre.”

  Quint rubbed the bridge of his nose, as he was prone to do when thinking, “It’s an argument that would take a lot of work to make it in court. But what I really wanted to ask you is, do you truly believe that, or were you just creating an argument like any good attorney?”

  “Why can’t it be both?” Sofia teased.

  His look grew serious, “Because it rarely is. So which was it?”

  “You mean do I really believe that killing one person to save many others is right? Yes.”

  “No, I mean the broader view. That doing something ‘wrong’ in the eyes of the law can actually be ‘right’. That’s the larger implication of your argument.”

  She hesitated and then spoke slowly taking phrasing her answer carefully. “There are plenty of cases that are argued the other way. That something is legal and the defendant should be acquitted, even if the action wasn’t ethical. So, yes, I do believe that can work the other way.”

  “You’ll want to be careful making arguments like that. You’ll get a reputation for it and your firm will end up assigning you to use that defense for every piece of scum that can pay.”

  “Well hopefully by then, I’ll get to pick my cases.”

  Quint let out a burst of grim laughter like a gunshot, stood up and paced the room, hands on his athletic hips. “That won’t be for at least ten years. Before that, you don’t get to choose anything.” Then he leaned down to her, close enough to smell the scent of outdoors and books. “They own you.”

  Sofia was very aware of how close he was and taken aback by what he said. She knew she would have to start at the bottom of the totem pole, but she was not one to be owned by anyone. She had given up almost everything to leave her life in Connecticut where she had felt owned. If she wouldn’t tolerate that behavior from her family, there was no way she would put up with it from a law partner. Her political savvy prevailed though, and Sofia suppressed her response. Quint continued.

  “So, you believe in doing something illegal for the right reasons. Did you learn that growing up?”

  The question struck Sofia like slap, especially surprised because her mind had turned in that direction already.

  “No.”, she said and averted her gaze. This conversation would not turn into one about her father.

  “I’m sure that this is something Ryan Koury would know about. After all, running a large communications conglomerate can’t be without ethical questions.”

  What the hell was Quint’s problem? She was absolutely not going into all of this with him. She chose this ‘nothing law school’, as her father put it, to get away from her father and only went to law school to keep him off her back. He was not going to invade this conversation like he did so many others. The name ‘Koury’ anywhere up north just begged people to ask about Koury Communication. Not here. Luckily, this was the first time in her two years so far of law school that anyone had brought it up. Sofia guessed that anyone would have thought that any daughter of Mr. Koury’s would be going to Harvard or Yale. She smiled to herself; her choice of law school was a small but hard-won victory. She gave Quint a level look and responded.

  “First, it’s Rayan Koury. He uses the Americanized version of his Lebanese name to get into the right doors. Second, people like him and his colleagues rarely have the right thing in mind. If it’s not money, it’s not right.”

  “Money has its uses. So do connections. Ethics isn’t always separate from the law or from power.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t seen any evidence of that yet.”

  “A cynic! I love to crack cynics!” That made her smile and relax a bit but it was definitely time to change the subject.

  “You said you also wanted to talk to me about an internship?”

  He gave a knowing smile and nodded. Aside from her late mother, Quint was the only one who seemed to know exactly what she was thinking at any given time. It was quite unnerving.

  “Right, well, there’s a summer internship opportunity down in Miami. It’s got everything I think you’d like. It’s right down the ethics alley. It’s field research. You’d be staying on a boat. Oh, and did I mention it’s Miami?”

  She paused formulating her questions.

  Quint interrupted her thoughts. “Oh come on, Miami alone would have had half your classmates in the throes of ecstasy.”

  “Hey, it’s not that Miami doesn’t appeal to me. And the boat. Sailboat?”

  “Yacht. A 109’ Hargrave. Beautiful, luxurious and it’s owned by two of my best friends, Joe and Helena Canvar.”

  Sofia thought fast. An internship on a yacht, In Miami? Her initial reaction was to assume the Canvars were just like the people she had been trying to get away from, pretentious, self-important and unable to see the destruction they created around themselves. But, if they were Quint’s friends…she might have to think about it. He was passionate, unexpected and always seemed to genuinely want his students to succeed. His classes were unimaginably tough, but he was unlike most of the other professors who committed themselves to students’ humiliation and despair under the guise of the Socratic Method.

  Sofia flapped a dismissive gesture and said, “I’ve been around all that before. It doesn’t hold the same appeal to me as others. Plus, I’ve already been offered a summer associate position.” She had gotten the call the day before and felt lucky to get in with a non-profit. It could really help her career. After spending four years at Outward Bound before starting law school, she wanted to keep heading in that direction. She felt it was something that would actually make a difference. That desire plus her specialization in Ethics had sent her father over the edge. He wanted her to be a high powered corporate attorney in his office. When hell freezes, she thought. Quint’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

  “I know they called me for a reference. I also know that you haven’t accepted. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Look, think about it. The position is doing field research. Finding the documents, talking to people, solving problems. You’d be out there getting your hands in the project, really learning, not stuck in some office basement with a pile of books. The Canvars are only two people in the organization besides me so you’ll be getting mentoring, not weekly Vitamin B drips because your asshole boss is working you a hundred hours per week and feeling you up in his office.”

  “I don’t see that happening. My offer is with a non-profit. That’s where my interest lies. I don’t see how tootling off on a yacht for six weeks is going to further that ambition.”

  Quint resumed his pacing. “You don’t think that crap happens in non-profit? It most certainly does, except there’s pictures of emaciated cats or kids on the wall while you’re getting felt up and you don’t get paid squat. That’s the only difference. Then if you get a full-time position, you can look forward to living in a 700 square foot. Apartment with three roommates until you’re forty. Seriously, take a risk. Don’t be afraid to try something new just because you think you know how
these people are. They’re the best. They’ll take care of you and actually let you do real work. Any kind of field work looks a hell of a lot better on a resume than pushing around dusty case files with jack to show for it except hand prints on your ass.”

  “And there wouldn’t be pictures of emaciated cats on the yacht?”

  His wide mouth broke into a dazzling smile. “Nope, but Joe might have some racy “Latin Beauties” posters in the game room. There won’t be any ‘feeling up’ either. Helena would have his nuts for bait if she ever heard of anything like that happening.”

  While she entertained images of her and Quint on a yacht together, Sofia knew she couldn’t go back to that kind of life. Not after she worked so hard to get to a place where she had freedom, even if it did mean living on meager funds. She looked at Quint with decision clear on her face.

  “Thank you for the offer. I’m flattered that you would think of me, but I can’t. I’m going to take the opportunity in non-profit.”

  Quint sat heavily onto the chair next to her, looking out the window. “I see. I think you’ll regret it though. Please think about it. You don’t want to look back on this and think ‘what if’.”

  Sofia nodded and lied. “I’ll think about it.”

  TWO

  Quint stepped off the Mariana, the 109’ Hargrave luxury yacht, and into the sultry Miami afternoon. Hot and humid, certainly, but the shade palms and harbor breeze kept the day feeling like paradise. The Mariana was one of many luxury yachts in the harbor but, this one was owned by Joe and Helena Canvar, his friends, colleagues and mentors. Not long ago Quint took the interview he now offered to Sofia. It was an unforgettable experience, a journey into a whole new world of learning and action. Leaving his position at a prestigious law firm had been a big risk but he gained a deep understanding of law and ethics that he would have never gotten in corporate law. He kicked the pier in frustration at Sofia’s stubbornness and winced at the pain in his canvas shod foot.