by Cuba (lit)
machine was in motion. The primary task Jake still
had to address was setting the day and hour for the attack.
As he stood looking at the charts of Cuba that
covered the wall in the planning space, Jake and his
staff wrestled with the timing question. Captain Gil
Pascal, the chief of staff, argued that the operation
should be delayed until such time as U-2's could
fly a photo recon mission and get the very latest
enemy troop positions.
"Vargas made a speech todayea"...Jake replied.
The speech and a translation had played several times
on television. Jake had even stopped once
to watch it.
"Hue City
and
Guilford Courthouse
are racing for the Florida Straitsea"...Toad
Tarkington argued. "This battle group is underway.
The Cubans may find out about these ship movements and
put two and two together and get their wind up. They
may be able to put twenty-four hours of delay
to better use than we can."
"That's the nub of it, isn't it"..."...Jake mused, and
stood looking at the charts, trying
to imagine how it would be.
Sure, things would go wrong. People were going to have the wrong
frequencies, go to the wrong places, everything
STEPHEN COONTS
that could go wrong would. Still, the missions were simple.
The real issue, Jake concluded, was the
follow-up. What were you going to do if the troops
ran into more trouble than they could handle? How would you
extract them? How would you destroy the target?
Jake called the Pentagon on the satellite
telephone. He was patched through via land line
to General Totten at the White House.
After the usual greetings, Jake said, "Sir,
two points. First, I would like to address the
proposal to delay the operation until Patriot
SAM batteries can be moved into southern
Florida. If we pop a Cuban missile
over southern Florida the cloud of viruses may
drift over to Miami or Tampa. I don't
think we gain anything by waiting for Patriot
batteries."
"We've about reached the same conclusion here, but there
has been vigorous debate. What is your
second point?"
"In my view, the key to getting this done
is our willingness to do whatever is required
to accomplish the mission."
"The president is listening, Admiral. Explain
yourself."
"As I see it, General, our choice is-to either
wait until we are convinced we can pull it off,
or go now before the Cubans have a chance to garrison these
sites with troops. The lab in Havana presents
problems that the other sites do not. We will have
to tackle the lab after the missiles are destroyed."
"Okay."
"If the troops assaulting the silos run into more
Cubans than they can handle, we must either add more
forces or extract our men. If we elect
to extract our people, we still have the problem of the missile
in the silo and we will have handed the Cubans a
victory in a fight we cannot afford to lose."
"What do you propose?"
"We won't be able to go back later with more people. We
get one bite of the apple, sir. I propose that
you au-
thorize me to use whatever force is required
to accomplish the mission, short of nuclear
weapons."
Jake Grafton heard the president
loudly say, "I'm not giving him or anybody
else the authority to risk a catastrophic
release of toxins. No."
"We'll call you backea"...General Totten said, and
hung up.
Mercedes went to stay with Dona Maria Vieuda
de Sedano, to cook for her and clean and do whatever
needed to be done. She had stayed with her mother-in-law
in the past, after her husband, Jorge,
diedfortunately the two women genuinely liked each
other.
She and Dona Maria ate lunch on the little porch
of the bungalow so they could enjoy the breeze blowing in
from the sea. It was strong today, whipping the palm
fronds and rippling the sugarcane. Little puffy
clouds threw severe shadows that raced over the
ground.
Dona Maria had gone back inside for a nap and
Mercedes was sewing a blouse together when a limo
drove up and Maximo got out. He came up the
short walk, paused at the steps, and looked at
her. "I thought I would find you hereea"...he said.
"Mima's
sleeping."
"I came to see you."
She nodded, continued working on the blouse. He stayed
on the dirt and scraggly grass, walked around so the
porch railing was between them.
"Vargas made a speech this morning. It was on
television."
"Hmmea"...she said. Dona Maria did not have a
television, and Maximo knew that.
"He is the president now."
"I have heard."
"Did he really kill Fidel"..."caret
"No."
Her thread broke. She got out the spool of thread
and rethreaded the needle.
"Would you tell me if he had?"
"What did you come for, Maximo?"
"I need your help."
She knotted the thread and began a new seam.
"You don't think much of me, do you?"
"I don't think of you at all."
He leaned on the porch railing, crossing his arms.
"Where did Fidel hide the gold?"
"I didn't know he had anyea"...she said, not looking
up from her work. "He didn't even have gold in his
teeth."
"The gold pesos the government called hi
after the revolutionthat gold."
"I have no ideaea"...she said.
"I think you do. I think Fidel told you."
"Think what you like."
"He wouldn't let the secret die with him."
"Maximo, look at me. If I had a
pocketful of gold, would I be sitting here on the
porch of a tiny, ninety-five-year-old bungalow
with a thatched roof beside the road to Varadero, sewing
myself a shirt?"
"I don't think you have itI think you know where it
is."
She snorted and went back to the needle and the seam.
"You don't want the gold for yourself, I know. But
I need it. Not all of it, just a little. I must get
out of Cuba."
A strand of hair fell across her face. She
brushed it back.
"We could leave together, Mercedes, if we had some of
that gold. You could go anywhere on earth you wanted,
live the rest of your life without worry, without fear,
without need. Think of it! A new life, a new
beginning. How much of this heat and dirt and hopeless
poverty do you want, anyway?"
"Forget the gold, Maximo. If there is
any, it is not for you."
He backed away from the railing, stood in the sun with
the sea wind playing at his hair. "Think about
itea"...he said. "Vargas is no fool; he wants the
gold too. One of the
se days he will send Santana
around to see you. Think about what you are going to say
to him when he comes."
He walked to the waiting limo. The driver turned
the car in the road and headed back toward Havana.
Toad Tarkington was the only person in the room with
Jake as they waited for the chairman of the joint
chiefs to call from the White House.
"What do you want from them, Admiral?"
"I want the authority to do whatever I have to do
to destroy those virusesea"...Jake Grafton
explained. "Once the shooting starts,
we have to win."
"What if the president won't give you that
authority?"
"He has a right to say that. We'll go do our best,
and if we can't cut it without using Tomahawks or
laser-guided weapons, then we'll call him up and
say so."
"What is the problem here"..."...Toad demanded. "If
there is a toxin release he won't be the
guy responsible. Fidel Castro and Alejo
Vargas are the guilty parties. This is
their
country."
Jake shook his head. "If there is a toxin
release in America, the president must be able
to prove that he did everything humanly possible
to prevent it If there is a release in Cuba...
well, he will need to show people around the world that he did
what he could to prevent it while still eliminating the
threat to the U.s. Elimination of the threat is the key
here, and I hope they understand that in Washington." He
smacked the wall with his hand. "Dammit, we only
get one shot at those viruses."
"I wonder if anyone in Washington is thinking about
the Bay of Pigsea"...Toad mused. "That turned
into a debacle because Kennedy wasn't willing to commit
enough resources."
"I've
been thinking about itea"...Jake Grafton said.
When the telephone rang, General Totten was on
the
line. "Admiral, we shall word it like this: 'allyour
mission is to eliminate the threat to the United
States. In completing your mission you are
instructed to do everything within your power to minimize the
possibility of a toxin release in Cuba. You
may use any forces and weapons in your command
except nuclear or CBW weapons, and you may
request assistance from any command in the U.s. armed
forces." ""Yes, sir."
"I'll have that on the wire as soon as
possible.""...allyes,
sir. I
want to thank you and the president. We'll do our
best."
"I know you will, sailor. When are you going?""...Tomorrow
night, sir. In view of all the factors
involved, that is my choice."
Over Cuba the next morning the cloud cover was
typical for that time of year: as the sun rose the
prevailing westerly winds spawned cumulus
clouds over the warming land. The longer the clouds
remained over land, the higher they grew. In the area
east of Havana where the Americans believed the
missile silos and processing lab were located the
cloud cover averaged forty or fifty percent by ten
in the morning, enough to inhibit satellite and U-2
photography of the area. Infrared photography
was not affected by the clouds, nor were the
synthetic-aperture radar studies done by air force
E-3 Sentry AWACS aircraft.
Oblivious to the intense scrutiny that the island was now
getting disf the Americans, General Alba conferred
that morning with Alejo Vargas, then ordered troops
and tanks moved into position around the silos. There were
actually eight silos, but only six held
operational missiles. The other two missiles had
been used as sources of disspare parts through the years.
Had Alba and Vargas realized what was coming, they
might have elected to dissipate the American
military effort by garrisoning all eight silos: as
it was, they didn't think of it.
The sun had been up just two hours when two
C-130 Hercules landed at the naval air station
at Key West, Florida. On the civilian
side of the field people stood and watched as the Hercs
parked on the other side of the runway. Soon navy
personnel began unloading the transports. The
civilian kibitzers did not know what the pallets
and canisters con-
STEPHEN COONTS
tained, and after a while they went on about their
business. Four armed marines in combat gear took
up locations where they could guard the
transports.
Among other things, the transports had delivered
belted
20-mm ammunition for miniguns, Hellfire
missiles, flares, and 2.75-inch rockets. They
also delivered tools and spare parts to work on Marine
Corps AH-1Will SuperCobras.
Two hours after the Hercs landed, the first two
SuperCobras settled onto the military mat.
By noon sixteen of the mottled green helicopters
were parked hi the sun.
The two-man crews didn't leave the base, but
went into an old, decrepit navy hangar nearby
for briefings.
Two more C-130's wearing marine markings landed an
hour or so later. They parked near the first two. As
navy trucks began refueling the planes, marines
disembarked and spread their gear on the ramp. They
lounged around, a few walked a safe distance away
and lit cigarettes, and after awhile a navy truck
brought hot food.
Troops, tanks, and trucks were moving in Cuba
by noon, blocking roads and creating traffic jams.
By midafternoon the E-3 Sentry crews had alerted
the National Security Agency, which passed
the information on to USS
United States.
Jake Grafton went to the ship's intelligence
center to see what the computers could tell him.
After listening to the briester, Jake Grafton
muttered, "Damn."
He went over the data, then asked, "How much
combat power are they moving, and when will it be in
place?"
In New York City the U.s. ambassador
to the United Nations paid a call on the Cuban
ambassador. After exchanging civilities, the
American said bluntly, "My government has
asked me to inform you that if the Cuban government
releases biological toxins of any kind in the
United States, for any reason, the American
government will massively retaliate."
""Massively retaliate""..."...The Cuban's
eyes widened. "What does that mean?"
"Sir, I was instructed to deliver the message, not
to interpret it. Here is the statement in writing."...The
American handed over a sheet of paper and took her
leave.
Aboard USS
Hue City,
now underway precisely halfway between Cuba and
Key West at ten knots, Ocho Sedano awoke
in midafternoon from a deep sleep. He found that he was
in a hospital bed on a small ward
, with two
intravenous solutions dripping into his veins. His
vision was blurred, he could not focus his eyes.
The doctor on the ward noticed that he was awake and
came over to check him. In a few minutes an
American sailor who spoke Spanish came
to interpret.
"Your eyes are sore from the salt of the water. They
will get better. Can you tell us your name, senor?"
"Juan Sedanoea"...he whispered, because he could not
talk above a whisper. "They call me El
Ocho."
"And where are you from?"
"Cuba."
"How long were you in the sea?"
"Two days and nights, I think. I am not sure.
Maybe more than that."
The doctor put a solution into Ocho's eyes
while the questions and answers were flying back and forth.
After blinking mightily Ocho thought he could see a
little better. The doctor was examining Ocho's
fingertips and the calluses on his hands. Now
he held up Ocho's hand and peeled off a
callus. Then he smiled. "You were very lucky."
The translator interpreted.
"Where am I"..."...Ocho asked.
"Aboard
Hue City,
a United States Navy ship. You were rescued
by a helicopter. The man who saw you in the water
wants to shake your hand when you awaken. He saved
your life. May I call him?"
"I would like to meet him."
STEPHEN COONTS
It felt very comfortable lying there, looking at the fuzzy
beds and blurred people bustling about, checking him over, so
different from
Angel del Mar.
Or floating on the sea.
Maybe he was dead. He examined that possibility
but concluded it was not so. This was not a bit like the heaven
he envisioned, and he was hungry. He told the
interpreter of his hunger, and the man went to talk to the
doctor, who had wandered off.
They brought food about the same time that Autrey
James came breezing in with one of his pals, who
had a camera. James was a happy
fellow with a wide smilethe white teeth in a dark
face were the only details that Ocho could see.
James got down beside the bed and posed while the man
with the camera took many pictures. Another man with a
camera came, some kind of television camera, and
he and James shook hands again. Several men in
khaki stood behind the camera watching.
The interpreter relayed the questions from Autrey
James and the television cameraman. When did you
leave Cuba, What was the name of the boat, How many
people were there?
"Eighty-four people."
"Eighty four"..."...asked the interpreter in disbelief.
