Collin and I arrived in Havana in his Gulfstream from Washington. There was James, waiting for us in a massive plane that I recognized as Marcus’. Marcus had gone out of his way to keep the location of his island a secret. He may as well have blindfolded us like his wife, Diana, once suggested. It seems that Marcus liked to keep his privacy and security more than any man I have ever heard of. From Havana, we flew over the main island and it looked gorgeous. I had never been to Cuba before. We landed on a private airstrip on a descent sized island a short distance from the main one.
A well-maintained jeep met us. A rough dirt road took us to a stunning mansion that was even bigger and more grandeur then Brian’s in Vancouver, or even Collin’s in Washington. Four stories were incredibly
