"We favor any disturbance close to the United States. May I sit down?"
Between two beds were stacked some dozen crates of explosives. A small table was littered with papers.
Sitting down at the table, Pashkov's elbow rested on an invoice, and moments later the invoice was tucked in his pocket.
"What kind of ammunition do you need, caballeros?"
The Cubans looked at each other. "Thirty-o-six caliber, two-twenty grain. How much can you deliver?"
"Two thousand rounds."
"Not much."
"Maybe three thousand. I'll toss in a box of hand grenades and a can of lysergic acid diethylamide."
"You have that? You have LSD-25?"
"I have that. When are you leaving Stockholm?"