A couple of days later we stop for a bite to eat at a restaurant on the northern end of Plaza Vieja. I’ve spent the morning practicing my spiel, much to the annoyance of Lafonda, and so am ready to initiate a deal. In no way am I nervous about my engaging in el mercado negro so Lafonda’s mocking of me does not perturb me one bit. Instead, I lean back cooly on the chair and lower the peak on my cap, scanning nonchalantly around the plaza from behind my mirrored Aviators as though absolutely nothing untoward were on my mind.