Excerpt from Havana Fever by Leonardo Padura, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

“How the hell could you tell those famished creatures there are books you can’t sell? What got into you, Conde?”

“I felt sorry for them. They’re starving to death . . . And because you know I won’t do that kind of . . .”

“Yes, you only have to take one look at you . . . Look at your shirt, man, it’s about to fall apart. You could make money hand over fist but of course you have to bleat on about books you can’t sell . . .”

“That’s my problem,” Conde tried to cut that conversation dead.

“Of course,” agreed Pigeon, shaking his left hand, where two gold bracelets entwined. “What’s the game-plan?”

“I agreed I’d call back at their place with more money and make an inventory of what they’ve got and take off another batch. So you pay me for this lot and advance me some money to buy more.” Asking no questions, with a business confidence he reserved solely for the Count, the lad put a hand in his pocket and took out a sheaf of notes that made the other turn pale. He used his impressively nimble fingers to count the bits of paper at a speed the Count’s addition skills couldn’t match.

‘Here’s a thousand, that’s yours, and three thousand more to start the negotiations. Fair dues.”

“If I flash all this at them all, it’ll frighten them to death.” He recalled Dionisio Ferrero’s greedy eyes and his translucent sister’s worm-eaten fingers grasping the money he’d given them.

“Remember the two censuses will fetch a really good price.”

‘When I’ve sold them to Giovanni, I’ll settle with you. That Italian bastard’s got a thing about censuses. I’ll take twenty-five greenbacks off him for each . . . And they’re as good as new. You see what things are like? Just a couple of censuses bring in thirteen hundred pesos, because I’ve got the right customer lined up. Get me? If you really bring me good books, I’ll make you rich, man, I swear . . .”

Pigeon smiled and waved contentedly at Conde. He went into the kitchen and returned with two cups of steaming coffee and a bottle of vintage rum, along with two small cut-glass tumblers, separated by a sheet of very fine sandpaper.

“Start cleaning the books,” he instructed the Count giving him the sandpaper.

While savouring his coffee and watching with relish as Pigeon poured out the rum, Conde cut the sandpaper in half to make his job easier and pulled the heap of books towards him.

“What about that one?” asked Pigeon, pointing his glass of rum at the volume half hidden under his bag.

“It’s a present for Skinny’s mother. It’s a cookbook I’ve been after for a while.”

The youth swigged his rum and smiled again.

“A cookbook? To cook what? Hey, man, you and your friends are incredible: Skinny, Rabbit, black Candito who’s crazy about Jehova and all that jazz . . . Fuck, they’re like a bunch of men from Mars, I swear. I look at them and wonder what the fuck they stuffed in their heads to make them like that . . .”

Conde took a swig and lit up. He took one of the books and started sandpapering gently along the top edge, to remove any traces of damp or specks of dust.

“They made us believe we were all equal and that the world would be a better place. That it was already better . . .”

“They fooled you, I swear. Everywhere you go some people are less equal than others and the world is going to the dogs. Right here, if you don’t have any green’uns you’re out of the running, and there are people getting rich, and not exactly on the straight and narrow . . .”

Excerpted from Havana Fever by Leonardo Padura Copyright © 2009 by Leonardo Padura. Excerpted by permission of Bitter Lemon Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher