by Cuba (lit)
results were inconclusive. As the intensity of the
showers increased and decreased, the probable location of the
ship expanded and contracted like a living circle.
Jake and Toad drank coffee and ate sandwiches
as they waited and watched the computer presentations.
Jake wandered around the compartment looking at maps between
glances at the computer screen and conversations over
another encrypted circuit with the brass in the
Pentagon. The White House was in the loop nowthe
president wanted to know how in hell a shipload of
chemical and biological warheads could disappear.
"What do you think happened, Admiral"..."...Toad
asked.
'Too many possibilities."
"Do the people in Washington blame you for not having the
Coldn
escorted all the way to Norfolk?"
"Of course. The national security adviser wants
to know , why the destroyer left the
Colon."
Toad bristled. "You weren't told to escort that
ship, you
were told to guard the base. Escorting that ship out of the
area wasn't your responsibility."""
"Somebody is going to second-guess every decision
I makeea"...Jake Grafton said, "all of them.
They're doing that right now. That comes with the stars and the
job."
"Hindsight is a wonderful thing."
"I'll be out on the golf course soon enough, and the
only person who will second-guess me then will be
my wife."
Despite the best efforts of the wizards in Maryland
and aboard ship, the location of the
Colon
under the rain of the cold front could not be established.
Jake gave up, finally.
'Tell them to move forward in time. Let's see where
the ship was after the storm."
But when the rain ceased, the computer could not identify the
Colon
from the other ship returns. There were
thirty-two medium- to large-sized vessels in the
vicinity of the Bahamas alone.
Toad stayed on the encrypted circuit to the NSA
wizards. Finally he hung up the handset and turned
to the admiral.
"They can assign track numbers to each blip,
watch where they go, and by process of elimination come up
with the most likely blips. There is a lot of
computing Involved. The process will take hours,
maybe a day of* two."
Jake Grafton picked up the flight schedule,
took a look, then handed it to Toad. "Put the
air wing up in a surface search pattern.
Let's see what we"...c find out there now."
Toad turned to the chart on the bulkhead. "Where do
you want them to look?"
"From the north coast of Cuba north into the
Bahamas. Look along the coast of
Hispaniola, all the way to Puerto Rico. Do
the Turks and Caicos. Have the crews
photograph every ship they see. Have NSA
establish current ship tracks, then match up
what the air crews see with what the satellite
sees. Then let's run the current plot
backward."
"Someone got a lucky break with the rain
stormea"...Toad
commented. "Maybe they were playing for the break, maybe
it just happened."
"Send a top secret message to the Gitmo
base commander. Find out everything they know about die
crew of that ship."
Jake Grafton tapped the chart. "The
president gave everyone in uniform their marching
orders. Find that ship."
Maximo Sedano flashed his diplomatic
passport at the immigration officer in the Madrid
airport and was waved through after a perfunctory
glance. His suitcase was checked through to Zurich, and of
course customs passed his attach@l case without
inspection. Traveling as a diplomat certainly
had its advantagesairport security did not
even x-ray a diplomat's carry-on bags.
- The Cuban minister of finance wandered the airport
terminal luxuriating in the ambiance of Europe.
The shops were full of delicacies, books,
tobacco, clothes, liquor, the women were well
turned out, the sights and smells were of civilization
and prosperity and good living.
In spite of himself, Maximo Sedano
sighed deeply. Ah, yes...
Spain or one of the Spanish islands would be his
choice for retirement. With Europe at his feet,
what more could a man want? And retirement seemed
to Maximo to be almost within reach.
What was the phrase? "Fire in the belly"? Some
Yanqui politician said to win office one must have
fire in the belly.
After a morning of thinking about it, Maximo concluded
he didn't have the fire. After Fidel died,
Fidel's brother, Raiil or Maximo's
brother Hector, or Alejo Vargas, or
anyone else who could kill his rivals could rule
CubaMaximo had given up trying for that prize.
He'd take the money.
And all the things money can buy: villas, beautiful
women, yachts, gourmet food, fine wine,
beautiful women
...
Someone else could stand in the Plaza de la
Revolution in Havana and revel in the cheers of the
crowd.
He filed aboard the plane to Zurich and settled
cheerfully into his seat. He smiled at the flight
attendant and beamed at the man across the
aisle.
Life is good, Maximo told himself, and
unconsciously fingered his breast pocket, where the
cards were that contained Fidel's signature and
thumbprints.
Why go back?
Fifty-three or comfour million American
dollars was more than enough. To hell with the gold!
As the jet accelerated down the runway, Maximo
told himself that the only smart thing was to take the money
and retire. Now was the hour. Reel in the fish on
the line don't let it off the hook to cast for
another.
He could transfer the money, spend three or four
days shuffling it around, then leave Zurich on the
Argentine passport as Eduardo Jos6 Lopez.
Maximo Sedano would cease to exist.
Off to Ibiza, buy a small cottage
overlooking the sea, find a willing woman, not too
young, not too old...
Yes.
He would do it.
The sudden death of Fidel Castro caught Alejo
Vargas off guard. The dictator's death was
supposed to be days, even weeks, away.
Unfortunately Vargas's political position was
precarious, to say the least. He really could have used
Fidel's endorsement, however obtained. At least
now no one would get it.
Although he had lived bis whole life in his
brother's shadow, Raiil Castro nominally held
the reins of government. Alejo Vargas thought that
without Fidel, Raul was completely out on a
limb, without a political constituency of his own.
While he tried to analyze the moves on the
board, Vargas had Col
onel Santana lock
Mercedes in a bedroom, seal
the presidential palace, and put a security
man on the telephone switchboard. He didn't
want the news of Fidel's death to get out before he
was ready.
Vargas left Santana in charge of the palace and
took his limo back to the ministry. Of course he
refrained from using the telephone in his limo to issue
orders. The Americans listened to every radio
transmission on telephone frequencies and would
soon know as much about his business as he did. He
sat silently as the limo carried him through the afternoon
traffic to the ministry.
There he called his most trusted
lieutenants to his office and issued orders.
Bring Admiral Delgado and General Alba to this
office immediately. Find and arrest Hector Sedano.
Alejo Vargas stood at the window looking at
Mono Castle and the sea beyond. Far out from shore he
could just make out the deep blue of the Gulf Stream,
which appeared as a thin blue line just under the horizon.
An overcast layer was moving in from the southeast and a
breeze was picking up.
A historic day ... Fidel Castro, the towering
giant of Cuban history was dead. The end of an
era, Vargas thought, and the beginning of a new one, one
he would dominate.
Despite the timing surprise, Vargas really had
no choice: he was going to have to go forward with his plan.
He had concluded a month or so ago that the only
course open to him upon the death of Castro was to create
a situation that would induce the Cuban people to rally around
him. He would need boldness and a fierce resolve
if he were to have a chance of success, but he was just the
man to risk everything on one roll of the dice. After
he personally loaded them.
Colonel Santana brought an American
artillery shell to Havana yesterday, one removed
Nuestra Senora de Coldn.
The thing was in the basement of the ministry now, under armed
guard. The Cuban leadership had known for years that
the Americans had CBW weapons stored at
Guantanamo. Now the Americans were removing the
things, but too late! Thanks to El Gato,
Vargas had one he could show the world. Soon he
hoped to have a great many more.
Alejo Vargas took a deep breath, stretched
mightily, helped himself to a'cigar. He lit it,
inhaled the smoke, and blew it out through his nose. Then
he laughed.
"I want a little house with a garden. Every day food
to eat. Children. A doctor to make them well when they
get sick. A man who loves me. Is that so
much?"
Dora's mouth was so dry she didn't
enunciate her words clearly, but Ocho knew what
she meant. They lay head to head under the awning in the
shade as the
Angel del Mar
pitched and rolled endlessly in the long sea swells.
Surrounded by a universe of water they couldn't
drink, the twenty-six humans aboard the boat were
tortured by thirst and baked by the sun. Many
had bad sunburns now, raw places where the skin
had blistered and peeled off, leaving oozing sores.
The old fisherman dipped buckets of water from the
sea and poured salt water over the burns. He
gently poured sea water on the small children, who had
long ago ceased crying. Perhaps the water would be
absorbed by their dehydrated tissues. If not, it
would at least help keep them cool, ease their
suffering somewhat.
Near Dora a woman was repeating the Rosary,
over and over, mumbling it. Now and then another
woman joined in for a few minutes, then fell
silent until the spirit moved her again.
It seemed as if everyone left alive had lost
someone to the sea that first night. The cries and grief
were almost more than people could bear when they realized who had
been lost, and that they were gone forever. Mothers cried,
daughters were so distraught they shook, the hopelessness
hit everyone like a hammer. The mother of the captain, who
saw him dead, shot hi the back, could neither move
nor speak. As Dora talked, Ocho watched the
woman, who sat
now at the foot of the mainmast, holding on to it with one
hand and a daughter or daughter-in-law with the other.
Every now and then Ocho sat or stood and
searched the horizon. Nothing. Not a boat, not land,
not a ship. Nothing.
Oh, three airplanes had gone over, two jets
way up high making contrails and a twin-engine
plane perhaps two miles up mat had crossed the
sky straight as a string, without the slightest waver as
it passed within a half mile
of Angel del Mar,
rolling her guts out in die swells.
To see the airplanes, with their people riding inside,
safe, full of food and drink, on their way from
someplace to somewhere else, while we poor
creatures are trapped here on this miserable boat,
condemned to die slowly of thirst and exposure...
Surely the boat would be found soon... by somebody!
Anybody! How can the Americans not see us?
How?
Do they see us and not care?
Ocho was standing, watching for other ships and listening
to Dora talk of the house she wanted, with the flowers
by the door, when he realized that the dark place he
could see to the west was a rain squall.
"Rainea"...he whispered.
"Rain."
He shouted the word, pointed.
The squall was upon them before anyone could muster the
energy to do anything. The people stood with their mourns open
as raindrops pounded them and soaked their clothes and
ran off the awning and along the deck, to disappear into the
scuppers.
"The awning! Quickly. Make a container from the awning
to trap the water!"
Ocho untied one corner with fingers that were all
thumbs, the old fisherman did another comer, and they
held the corners up, trapping water.
They had a few gallons when the rain ceased
falling.
Several of the men tried to lean over, drink from the
awning.
"No. Children first."
Ocho managed to catch one man by the back of the neck
and throw him to the deck.
"Children first."
One by one the children were allowed to drink all they could
hold. Then the women.
Several of the men got a swallow or two each,
then the water was gone.
Ocho sat down, wiped the sweat and water from his
hair and sucked it from his fingers. The only water he
had gotten had been from holding his mourn
open.
Dora had drunk her fill. Now she lay on
the deck with her eyes closed.
Diego Coca had even gotten a swallow.
He looked about with venomous eyes, then lay down
beside his daughter.
"We must rig the awning so that it will catch water
/>
if die rain comes againea"...Ocho said to the old
fisherman.
They worked at it, cut a hole in the low place
in the canvas and put a five-gallon bucket under
die hole.
If it will just rain again,
Ocho thought, studying the clouds.
Please God, hear our prayer.
"Why are you here, on this boat"..."...the old fisherman
asked Ocho, who stared at him in surprise.
"Why are you here"..."...the fisherman repeated. "You
aren't tike us."
Ocho looked around at his fellow sufferers, unable
to fathom the old man's meaning.
"These people are all losersea"...the old man said,
"including me. We came looking for something we will
never find. Why are you with us?"
"It's time for someone to relieve Lopez
on the pump. I will do it for a while, then you
relieve me, old man."
"We are going to die soon, I thinkea"...the old
man said.
Ocho hissed, "There are children listening. Watch your
mouth."
"When we can pump no more we will swim. Then we will
die. One by one people will drown, or sharks will come."
%
"Look for a shipea"...Ocho said harshly, and went below.
Sharks! The old windbag, scaring the children like that
Of course sharks were a possibility. Blood or
people thrashing about in the water would attract them, or so
he had always heard. Sharks would rip people apart, pull
them under.
He pumped for a bit over twenty minutes, then
took a break. The water came in fast. After
five minutes he began pumping again. Another
twenty-one minutes of vigorous effort was required
to empty the bilge.
The water was coming in faster than it did yesterday.
Pumping the handle manually seemed to require more
effort too, though he knew he just had less energy.
Pump, pump, pump, take a brief rest in the
stinky bilge, then pump again....
The more tired he grew the more hopeless he felt.
All of them were doomed. Dora, the baby growing within
her, the baby that he had put in her womb ...
It was his fault. If he had been man enough to say
no, to not surrender to lust, all these people would still be in
Cuba, they would have a future to look forward to, not
watery death. All the people who had been swept to their
death would still be alive.
Alive!
He had no idea of the horrible things he was setting
in motion when he opened her dress, felt the
ripeness of her body, felt the heat of her.
The guilt weighed on him, made it hard to breathe.
