I had the sense that something was about to happen as I stood on the Hotel Casa del Sol’s rooftop and looked down at the busy streets of Havana. As if the city were holding its breath, there was a palpable sense of expectation in the air. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a man came out of the shadows. He had predatory demeanor, and his eyes were cold and calculating. He was Rafael Martinez, and I knew in that moment that my journey to Havana had just become a whole lot more complicated.