The Cuban Hitman

Prologue

1980 Havana, Cuba

Manuel Diaz smoked his Cuban cigar as he watched the orange sun set on the horizon, enjoying what was left of the warmth it was going to give before the earth rotated on its axis and made it shine, giving warmth to the other side of the world. The soft warm refreshing breeze blew at his sun kissed skin softly. The thirty year old male had age lines on his forehead and in the corner of his brown eyes. His short brown curly hair slowly turning gray as he grew older with time. He used his feet to rock himself softly back and forth in his old worn wooden chair on the old balcony painted a faded yellow which looked gray now from the weather. He raised his hand and pulled the cigar from his mouth and let the smoke out into the air watching the cloud vanish into the wind before putting it back in his mouth.

Manuel's ten year old son, Santiago, sat on the cold floor inside the cramped living room playing with his broken green army men toys which were the only things his family could afford to entertain him when he wasn't in school. Well they didn't exactly buy it. They kind of took it when the guy wasn't looking when they went on a trip to the market, something that happened often on the island. He had the same dark curly hair as his father and the same chocolate eyes. His left lateral incisor had fallen out a few weeks ago and it was slowly started to grow back. He wiggled his dirty bare toes as he felt the tingly feeling of them falling asleep but didn't bother much with it. It happened to him every time he played with his toys so he didn't really bother with it.

He sighed before he started shaking his leg regretting instantly letting his foot falling asleep. He pouted and stopped moving it when it started to tingle so much it hurt to move it. Why did he do this to himself? Maybe it was the laziness or maybe it was something else. As he waited for the tingles to pass he returned to playing with his toys quietly knowing well that if he made noises it would irritate his short tempered father.

Francisca Diaz stormed inside the small house and walked past her son who was still on the floor, going straight to the worn balcony where her husband gave her a two second glance before he turned his eyes back to the horizon. She had a grave look on her beautiful aging face. Like the majority of Cubans, her skin was deeply sun kissed and had long dark curly hair which she had tied up into a bun to keep it out of the way at work.

"What happened?" Manuel asked as he took another drag from his cigar and tapping the ashes away onto the floor dirtying it even more which annoyed Francisca to no means but she had other things in mind at the moment then a small pile of cigar ashes on her balcony. She opened her mouth to speak but the sound of marching footsteps made them both look down and Manuel stood up suddenly swearing under his breath. Fidel's men were here. They needed to get Santiago somewhere safe while they handled the situation. "Santiago, come here."

"What happened, Daddy?" Santiago asked as he got up and stood at the doorway to the balcony, clutching his toys tightly his heart racing thinking he had done something and he was now going to get into trouble.

"I want you to go to Maria's house and hide there. Don't let the soldiers see you." Manuel pointing his cigar warningly at his son who nodded and put on his sandals before rushing out of the house using the secret back door heading to his aunt's house, well she wasn't really his aunt but his godmother who he considered an aunt. Manuel sat back down in his chair stiffly not looking at his wife. "Act as if nothing happened and go prepare the food."

Francisca nodded and went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"Santiago?" Maria asked in surprise as she looked down at the short skinny boy who was still clutching the toys tightly with watery eyes. The mid middle aged woman looked out her window and saw the soldiers kicking the Diaz's door down and storming in making her heart drop to her stomach, her blood running cold at the sight. "No."