by Cuba (lit)
infuriated he quivered. "We had them in the palm
of our hand, and all we had to do was make a
fist.
A red-handed apprehension of the American pirates
would have brought the applause and respect of the Cuban
people. A haul of American prisoners in uniform
would have given us instant credibility.
This
was our chance."
"Senor Presidente,
the troops would not obey. They refused to attack.
When the troops refuse to obey direct orders,
what would you have us do?"
"Shoot some generalsea"...Vargas snapped. "Shoot
some colonels. Scared men fight best."
"If we shot the generals and colonels the men would
shoot usea"...General Alba explained, and he meant
it. "The Americans are too well equipped,
too well trained, too well armed. Their
firepower is overwhelming. To fight them toeto-toe
would be suicidal, and the men know that."
Alba's logic was unassailable. To complain now that
the Cuban Army, Navy, and Air Force did not
do what he, Vargas, knew they could not do was
illogical and selfdefeating. No military force
on the planet could whip the Americans in a stand-up
fight, which was precisely why he had spent the last
three years developing a biologicalwarfare
capability.
Temper tantrums will get me no place,
Vargas reminded himself, and willed himself back under
control. He sat down at his desk, made a
gesture to the others to seat themselves.
"Gentlemen, we must move forward. I have
trust and confidence in you, and I hope you have the same
in me.
You are of course correctwe cannot overcome the
Americans militarily. We must outwit them
to prevail. With your help, it still can be done."
They sat looking at him expectantly.
"The laboratory where the biological agent for the
warheads was created is in the science building of the
University of Havana. Last night the
Americans destroyed the warhead-manufacturing
facility and our six operational ballistic
missiles. All the American cruise
missiles, the airplanes, the assault troops
were employed to that end. Tonight the Americans will try
to destroy the laboratory."
"Why did they not attack the lab last
night"..."...Alba asked.
"You are the military manyou tell me. Perhaps they
lacked sufficient assets, perhaps they did not have
political support to create massive amounts of
Cuban casualties or sustain significant
American casualtiesI do not know. The most
likely explanation is that they were afraid of
inadvertently releasing biological agents.
Whatever, the lab is still intact and capable
of producing polio viruses in sufficient
quantity to supply a weapons program. The
minds directing the American military effort will not
ignore that laboratory."
"Senor Presidente,
what would you have us do?"
Alejo Vargas smiled. He leaned forward in his
chair and began explaining.
'Tell me what happenedea"...Jake Grafton said
to Toad Tarkington when Toad got back aboard
the carrier. The sky was gray in the east by then, and
Toad was filthy and bone tired.
A stretcher team from the ship's hospital met the
Osprey on the flight deck and took Rita and
Crash Wade below for examination.
Toad told his boss everything he thought lie would
want to know about the battle around silo one, about the
missile rising, holding on to the tiny open access
port, kicking off as the missile went through the barn
roof, falling....
He didn't tell Jake t.he was so scared he
thought he was going to die, and he left out how he
felt when they told him Rita had been shot down
just in front of the barn. He didn't mention how he
felt when he realized she was alive,
bruised up but alive. He didn't have to tell
him, because Jake Grafton could read all that in his
face.
The admiral listened, looking very tired and sad, and
said nothing. Just nodded. Then patted him on the
shoulder and sent him to take a shower and get a few
hours" sleep.
The young CIA officer, Tommy Carmellini, sat
in the dirty-shirt wardroom with a stony face, his
jaw set. Chance was dead and he didn't want
to talk about it.
He talked about the mission when Jake Grafton
asked, however, told the admiral how it had gone,
assured him' that all the cultures in the building
had been destroyed.
"The problem is that the bastards may have cultures
stashed anyplace. Vargas may have a potful under his
bed, just in case."
"Yesea"...Jake Grafton said, "I understand."
He did understand. To be absolutely certain of
eradicating all the poliomyelitis virus in
Cuba, he would need to burn the whole island to a
cinder.
Jake went to his stateroom and tried to get a
few hours" sleep himself.
Tired as he was, sleep wouldn't come. He
tossed and turned as he thought about the battle just ended
and the one still to come. What had he learned from last
night's battle?
What could go wrong tonight?
After an hour of frustration, he took a long, hot
shower. This time when he lay down he dozed off.
Two hours later he was wide awake. He put
on a clean uniform and headed for his office.
Toad was already there huddled with Gil Pascal.
"Rita's okayea"...he told Jake. "Crash
Wade didn't make it. Amazing, isn't it?
One dead, one just bruised."
"Can Rita fly tonight"..."...Jake asked.
Tarkington swallowed hard, nodded once.
"She's the best Osprey pilot we've
gotea"...Jake said. "She's got the flight if she
wants it."
"She'd kill me if I asked you to leave her
behind."
"She probably would, and you such a handsome young stud.
What a loss to the world that would be."
"The Osprey that is bringing the survivor from
Hue City
will be here in twenty minutes. I'll bring
him to your cabin."
"Hector Sedano's brother?"
"That's correct, sir. And the message said he
wants to go back to Cuba."
Maximo Sedano parked his car on the pier so he
wouldn't have to carry his gear very far. Scuba tanks,
wet suit, flippers, weight belt, mask, he
had the whole wardrobe.
He got all that stuff aboard the boat, checked the
fuel, then cast off.
The gold was in Havana Harbor; he was sure of
it. He had a chart that he had laid off in grids,
and he had labeled each grid with a number that
reflected a probability that he thought reasonable.
The area off the main shipping piers didn't seem
promising, nor did the busy areas by the fishing
&n
bsp; piers. The area off the private docks where
Fidel had kept his boat seemed to Maximo to be
the most likely, so that was where he would look first.
He took the boat to the center of the most promising
area and anchored it.
It was inevitable that people would see him, so he had told
everyone who asked comt he was studying old
shipwrecks in Havana Harbor. He knew enough
about that dissubject to make it sound
plausi85 could talk about the American
battleship
Maine
and three treasure galleons that went on the rocks
here in the harbor during a hurricane.
If he found it, he would not let on. If he found
the gold, he would leave it where it was until he could
come back for it with paid men and the proper equipment.
If.
Well, every man needs a dream, he reflected, and
this was his. Better this than dying defending a
ballistic-missile silo. Those fools.
The gold was near. He knew it. Sitting here on
the boat he could feel its power.
God damn you, Fidel.
Juan Sedano, @lright-brace 1 Ocho, got out
of the Osprey with a look of wonder on his face. The
airplane, the aircraft carrier, the jets and
noise and hundreds of foreigners, few of whom
spoke his languageit was quite a lot for a young man
who had never before been out of Cuba.
He got out of the Osprey wearing a set of navy
dungarees, a white T-shirt, and a
Hue City
baseball cap, and carrying a pillowcase
containing clothes, underwear, toilet items, and
souvenirs given him by the men and women of
Hue City,
everything from photographs of the ship to COULD'S and
Playboy
magazines.
Toad Tarkington met Ocho on the flight deck
and led the taliea"...broad-shouldered young man into the
island and up the ladder to the flag bridge, where
Jake Grafton and an interpreter, a
lieutenant fighter pilot of Latin descent, were
waiting. Jake took Ocho and the lieutenant
into his at-sea cabin, where the three of them found
chairs.
"When did you leave Cuba"..."...Jake Grafton
asked Ocho after the introductions.
"Six or seven days agoea"...the lieutenant said,
"he isn't sure. He lost track of the days at
sea."
"Tell him that Fidel Castro is dead, that his
brother Hector is in prison."
The Spanish-speaking junior officer did so.
Ocho's reaction was unexpected. Tears streamed
down his face. "He asked me not to leave Cuba.
He must have known that Fidel was dying, that
something was happening. I left anyway."
He wiped at the tears, embarrassed. "I love
my brother. He is my idol, a true man who
believes in something larger
than himself. I cry because I am ashamed of myself, of
what I have done. He asked me not to go and I
refused to listen."
"Tell me about Hectorea"...Jake Grafton
asked gently.
The admiral had expected to spend five minutes
with the boy, but the five minutes became fifteen, then
a half hour, then an hour. Ocho told of going
to meetings with Hector, of the speeches he made, of
his many friends, of antagonizing the regular priests
and the bureaucrats while he spread the message of a
coming new day to anyone who would listen, and many did.
Jake gave Ocho part of his attention while he
thought about the lab in the science building in the
University of Havana.
When Ocho finally began to run dry, Jake picked
up the telephone and called Toad. "I'm in my
at-sea cabinea"...he said, "Have the guys in the
television studio play that tape we downloaded from
the satellite this morning on the television in this
stateroom. No place else."
"Yessir."
Toad called back in three minutes. "Channel
two, Admiral."
Jake turned on the television.
In a few seconds Fidel Castro came on the
screen. He was obviously a sick man. He was
sitting behind a desk, wearing a green fatigue
shirt. -
"Citizens of Cuba, I speak to you today for the last
time. I am fatally ill...."
The young lieutenant translated.
"I wish to spend a few minutes telling you of my
dream for Cuba, my dream of what our nation can
become in the years ahead. It is imperative that
we end bur political isolation, that we join the
family of nations as a full-fledged member.
To make this transition a reality will require
major changes on our part, and a new political
vision...."
Jake Grafton moved closer to the television,
set, adjusted his glasses, and studied the image of
Fidel Castro. The man
was perspiring heavily, obviously in pain, and every so
often he would move slightly, as if seeking a more
comfortable position.
"For years I have watched with admiration and
respectea"...Fidel continued, "as Hector Sedano
moved among our people, making friends, telling them of his
vision for Cuba, preparing them for the changes and
sacrifices that will be necessary in the days to come."
Fidel winced, paused, and took a sip of water
from a glass sitting nearby. Then he continued:
"We as a nation do not have to give up our
revolutionary commitment to social justice
to participate as full-fledged members of the world
economy. We would be traitors to the heroes of the
revolution and ourselves were we to do so. In the past few
years the Church, in which so many Cubans believe,
has come to understand that one cannot be a true Christian
without an active commitment to social justice, the
commitment that every loyal Cuban carries in his breast
as his birthright. The Church has changed to join us.
Now we also must change.
"The time has come for this government to renounce
communism, to embrace private enterprise, to act
as a referee to ensure that every Cuban has a decent
job that pays a living wage and every enterprise pays
its fair share of taxes..."
In less than a minute Fidel reached his
peroration:
"Hector Sedano is the man I believe best
able to lead our nation into this future."
The tape ended anticlimactically a few
seconds later. A tired, haggard Fidel
spoke to someone off-camera, said, "That's enough."
Jake Grafton reached out, turned off the
television.
Ocho was stunned. "I thought Fidel was dead!"
"He is dead. He made this tape before he died."
"That was not a live performance?"
"No. A film, a videotape."
"And you have itff"...Ocho's eyes were wide in amaze-
STEPHEN COONTS
ment. "They must have played the videotape on
television, and you copied it. But if it has been
on television in Havana
, why is Hector in
prison?"
"The tape has never been on televisionea"...Jake
said. "As far as I know, you are the very first Cuban
to see it since it was made."
Ocho stared, trying to understand. Finally he asked,
"What are you going to do with it?"
"I was wonderingea"...Jake Grafton said, "if you
would take it back to the lady who gave it to us. I
believe she is your aunt by marriage,
Mercedes Sedano?"
"Mercedesff"...Ocho gaped. "She was Fidel's
mistress. Why did she give you the tape?"
"You will have to ask her. Will you return the tape
to her?"
"Of course. When do you want me to do this?""...This
evening, I think. By the way, are you
hungry?""...Oh, yes. I like the hamburger.
Muy bueno."
Jake and the lieutenant took Ocho to the flag
wardroom for lunch. Ocho talked of baseball, of
Cuba, of his brother Hector, and Hector's
dreams for a free Cuba. He talked even with his
mouth full, so the lieutenant who was translating
didn't get much to eat. Jake let the young
Cuban talk.
After lunch the admiral asked for Tommy
Carmellini, so Toad Tarkington went looking for
him. Carmellini was asleep. He smelled of
liquor, which Toad ignoredafter all, the man was
a civilian.
When Toad got Carmellini into the admiral's
office, he asked the chief petty officer to bring,
coffee, which Carmellini accepted gratefully.
"I've been thinking about your commentea"...Jake
Grafton said.
"What comment"..."...Carmellini asked between sips of hot
black coffee.
"About Vargas having jugs of cultures under his
bed."
"Umm."...Carmellini drank more coffee. When he
saw that the admiral was expecting him to say more, he
shrugged. "That was a flippant comment. I'm
sorry."
Jake Grafton scratched his chin. "I thought it
was... profound, in a way."
"How's that?"
"We can't burn the island down."
"That would be impracticalea"...Carmellini agreed.
"We'd have eleven million Cubans to house and
feed afterwards."
"So where does that leave us?"
Tommy Carmellini searched the faces of the naval
officers.
"There's a presidential directive against
assassinating heads of stateea"...the CIA man said
cautiously.
"I have seen references to such a directiveea"...Jake
Grafc ton said, "though I haven't read the thing."
'Trust me. It exists."
"Friend, I believe you. That's sound public
policy and I don't have anything like that in mind. Our
