Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,47

Latent in the People,’ ” Emiliano said in Spanish. Then he launched into the reading in a vibrant voice, more animated than his normal conversational tone, but it wasn’t until he was almost midway into the passage that he caught fire:

“ ‘There exist these immense numbers of unknown beings… rabble, multitude, populace. These are words and quickly uttered. But so be it. What does it matter? What is it to me if they do go barefoot! They do not know how to read; so much the worse. Would you abandon them for that? Would you turn their distress into a malediction? Cannot light penetrate these masses? Let us return to that cry: Light! And let us obstinately persist therein! Light! Light! Who knows whether these opacities will not become transparent? Are not revolutions transfigurations?’ ”

Jackie saw that the workers kept their eyes on their fingers, but she could feel excitement coursing through the room like an electrical current as Emiliano went on, becoming even more intense and passionate, his voice rising to a powerful crescendo:

“ ‘Sow enthusiasm, tear green boughs from the oaks. Make a whirlwind of the idea. This crowd may be rendered sublime. Let us learn how to make use of that vast conflagration of principles and virtues, which sparkles, bursts forth, and quivers at certain hours. These bare feet, these bare arms, these rags, this ignorance, this abjectness, this darkness may be employed in the conquest of the ideal. Gaze past the people, and you will perceive truth. Let that vile sand which you trample underfoot be cast into the furnace. Let it melt and seethe there. It will become a splendid crystal, and it is thanks to that, Galileo and Newton will discover stars.’ ”

Jackie’s eyes were moist when Emiliano closed the book and began to come down from the platform. Around her, the workers’ eyes were still fastened on their fingers busily rolling cigars, but she could tell from the expressions on their faces that Emiliano’s reading had touched their hearts as much as it had touched hers.

For the first time, Jackie had seen the fiery soul hidden behind Emiliano’s wall of reserve. No, he was not a tiger on horseback, but he was, she had discovered, a figure even more intriguing and magnetic to her—a sleeping tiger. And she wanted to be there when that tiger came to the fore again.

Jackie rose from her seat and was walking toward Emiliano to congratulate him on his performance when she felt a slight tug on her sleeve. She turned, and a small, thin Hispanic man who looked like a campesino wordlessly handed her a note and quickly walked away, disappearing through a side door. Jackie glanced at the slip of paper and read:

TOMORROW

THE DANCE ACADEMY

3 PM

When Jackie reached Emiliano, she smiled broadly at him and told him how wonderful she thought his reading had been. “I was thrilled by it, and so was everyone else.”

Then she showed him the note that the strange man had slipped into her hand. “Do you know what this is about?”

“Yes, the Dance Academy is where the rebels hold their meetings.” Emiliano said. The Dance Academy? That sounds promising, Jackie thought. Maybe I’ll finally get to do the mambo after all.

XI

It was just like a Hollywood movie premiere, Jackie thought.

Not that she had ever been to one, but she had seen them in the newsreels, like the one for Gone with the Wind. And the Teatro de Cinema was an architectural marvel to rival Grauman’s Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard, looking for all the world like a Moorish castle in Castile, complete with turrets and archways and parapets along which shrubbery grew in great abundance. The theatre had just been restored to its former glory, and this was its inaugural presentation. Its marquee proudly read:

THE “MEXICAN” DRACULA

THE LOST VERSION

Klieg lights outside the theatre stabbed up into the night sky, announcing that something big was taking place. So did the red carpet leading to the theatre’s entrance, where limousines were pulling up at regular intervals and depositing luminaries. A tuxedo-clad announcer, his hair brilliantined to a high shine, accosted the celebrities and thrust a huge microphone into their faces for them to sound off on Radio Havana.

Both sides of the roped-off red carpet were swarming with fans hoping to catch a sighting of their favorite personality. They were held at bay by members of the secret police working as crowd control. Knowing that there would be so many police around, Jackie had