But even with the guts pill, Lorenz’s mission was toast. “I knew the minute I saw the outline of Havana I couldn’t do it,” she said.
Even if she had had the will to go through with her mission, she had already botched it, having stashed the capsules in a jar of cold cream. When she looked for them, “they were all gunked up. I fished them out and flushed them down the bidet.” When Castro finally appeared, he was wary. “Why did you leave so suddenly?” was his first question, she says. “ ‘Are you running around with those counterrevolutionaries in Miami?’ I said yes. I tried to play it cool. The most nervous I have ever been was in that room, because I had agents on standby and I had to watch my timing. I had enough hours to stay with him, order a meal, kill him, and prevent him from making a speech that night, which was already pre-announced.
“He was very tired and wanted to sleep. . . . He was chewing a cigar, and he laid down on the bed and said, ‘Did you come here to kill me?’ Just like that. I was standing at the edge of the bed. I said, ‘Yes. I wanted to see you.’ And he said, ‘That’s good. That’s good.’ ”
Castro asked if she was working for the CIA, to which Lorenz replied “not really. I work for myself.”
Then he leaned over, pulled out his .45, and handed it to me. I flipped the chamber out and hit it back. He didn’t even flinch. And he said, ‘You can’t kill me. Nobody can kill me.’ And he kind of smiled and chewed on his cigar…. I felt deflated. He was so sure of me. He just grabbed me. We made love. I contemplated staying—to try talking to him later, after his speech, but it would be too late, because he rambles on for 8, 10, 12 hours. That was the hardest part. I wanted him to beg me to stay, but he got dressed and left. I just sat there by myself awhile. I left him a note. I told him that I would be back.”
Lorenz was not done with Castro—she saw him, and had sex with him—a few more times over the years.
On her last real visit to Havana, in 1988, she stayed 10 days. Her son, she says, was in Nicaragua working as a medic for victims of the contras. She claims that she saw Fidel one night and that they made love—for the last time. “The last mercy hump,” she says with a laugh. “That was it. It began with him and ended with him.”
Isn’t that...romantic.