Castro's bomb

by Robert Conroy

  He made a quick decision not to disturb the corpse. Someone would doubtless come back to do further and more intelligent checking on the man’s papers, and he didn't want them wondering what had happened to the dead American.

  He shuddered. Missiles that could chase a plane around the sky and kill it? Christ. Was nothing sacred anymore?

  Charley Kraeger and Elena Sandano walked hand in hand and smiled like lovers as they walked by the Jefferson Memorial. It wasn't at all difficult to pretend that they were fond of each other because they were. Charley hadn't yet convinced Elena to go to bed with him although he thought she might be weakening. Probably her conservative Catholic and Latino background was restraining her, he ruefully concluded. Still, she did like him and their kissing was getting more and more passionate. He just thought they were too old to play like they were in high school. Hell, when he'd tried to caress one of her lovely and full breasts, she'd told him no and removed his hand.

  What the hell. He'd do whatever she said. He was not about to screw up a lovely relationship by acting like a jerk.

  After two meetings at the Lincoln Memorial, both Kraeger and Golikov agreed that a change of venue was in order, and Thomas Jefferson's magnificent rotunda it was. When Charley told Golikov he was bringing a date, the Russian laughed and said he would as well.

  Two couples meeting in a public place would not attract any attention, assuming anybody was looking. Elena accompanied Charley and a surprisingly attractive blond Russian woman named Oksana came with Golikov. Charley wondered if Oksana was a "honeypot" used to seduce potential sources of information, or if she was really a qualified member of the Soviet embassy.

  Golikov and Charley separated from the two women who stood aside and pretended to gossip. "I was thinking about the hypothetical situation you presented me with," Golikov said. "And I have decided to think further. For instance, I said that we would move heaven and earth to recover any stolen items and that was and is true. I would think that such efforts would bear fruit rather quickly."

  "I'm not surprised."

  "I hypothesized that no more than four items would be missing. I can now say that three of them would be quickly and decisively recovered. The fourth would likely need significantly more effort to locate. Sadly, it may well be that the remaining item would prove to be out of our reach. If nothing else, the potential for damage through its misuse would be drastically reduced."

  "Glad to hear it," Charley said. "Not a perfect solution, but three out of four is much better than nothing."

  Charley thought quickly. If the remaining warhead wasn't in the Havana area, it was probably en route to the Guantanamo area, or was already there. Either way, it represented a major problem for the agency and the military. A two kilo bomb was relatively small but would devastate a major unit, like an infantry division, and easily result in several thousand casualties.

  "How might this have affected any relationship between Cuba and the Soviet Union, had this actually happened, of course?" Charley asked.Golikov thought for a moment before responding. "I did mention a reassessment, didn't I? Ah well. Any limited military efforts on your part to protect yourselves and your property would not be considered a threat to the world's equilibrium. Berlin, therefore, would not be part of any reaction on our part."

  "What about Korea and the Chinese?"

  Golikov looked pained. "Why do you annoying American capitalist running dogs persist in thinking that we have any control over our slanty-eyed Asiatic socialistic brethren? When will you realize there is no massive Soviet hegemony? Just do what you have to and don't get us directly involved."

  Charley didn't know how to respond. They shook hands and parted. Charley wondered exactly what Golikov meant by ‘decisively’ recovered. An interesting word, he thought. Did it mean that the Reds had used violence? Probably, and the thought made him smile. Fidel's poor amateurs wouldn't stand a chance against the Russians who would have used either KGB goons or elite Spetsnaz or both to make the recovery.

  Elena slipped her arm in his. "Everything okay?"

  "If you think three out of four is okay."

  "Ouch."

  "Tell me about the lovely Oksana. KGB?"

  "Probably, but isn't everyone at the Soviet Embassy a spy of some sort?"

  "True. Of course that's what they feel about our people in Moscow."

  "She said she was a translator and her English is outstanding. She rather indignantly insisted that she is not a honeypot. She also said you were cute in a capitalist sort of way. I told her you were taken and she could go to hell."

  Major Sam Hartford stifled a smile as General Cordero babbled on. The Cuban was trying to make it seem like he was being helpful by cluing Hartford in on what Cordero thought was a big secret.

  Either Cordero was unaware that Hartford was in radio communication with brass in Washington, or knew and decided on this method to let Hartford know that the subject was okay to talk about. Hartford decided that Cordero might just be a little more devious than he thought.

  "I would like your help, Major Hartford."

  "And I will be happy to give it if I can, General Cordero. However, you know full well that I will not do anything that would endanger my men or compromise anything my nation might do to recover Guantanamo."

  Cordero sighed. "Do you ever have problems with your Pentagon? Do they ever become fixated on a trivial problem and drive you to distraction until you allocate disproportionate resources to solve it? What is your phrase? Ah yes, like having a burr under your ass."

  Hartford laughed. "Are you saying that Fidel is a pain in the ass?"

  Cordero managed to look shocked. "As a good communist I would never say that about my beloved leader. However, some of his lieutenants are, shall we say, very zealous and their actions can cause hemorrhoids."

  Cordero slid the copy of the newspaper with Cathy Malone's picture on it. Hartford hadn't seen it, but he had heard of it and knew of the existence of Ross, Cullen, and the others. He had been delighted to know that his favorite accountant was not only alive and well but likely raising a little hell with the Cubans. Still waters run deep, he'd concluded.

  On seeing the picture, he recalled meeting Cathy Malone at some function or other. Cute kid, he thought, but a guerilla leader? Not a chance.

  Hartford took the paper. "I assume I may keep this."

  "But of course."

  "What do you want from me, general?"

  Cordero sighed. "I wish Havana off my back. Can you get this young officer, Lieutenant Ross, to surrender? If there is any question of his being in danger, I will even arrange to have him surrender directly to you with the Red Cross and the United Nations and maybe Pope John the Twenty-Third looking on."

  "What about the woman who leads them?"

  Cordero snorted with laughter. "Oh please, major. The woman's picture is in the paper because she is attractive. We looked her up in the base's personnel files. She's a high school teacher. She is in no danger from us. We will make every reasonable effort to see that she is unharmed. Ross, on the other hand, is a qualified marine office and Cullen is a gunnery sergeant. I am also aware that Ross worked with you, which means you know a good deal about him."

  Hartford saw no point in lying, although he saw nothing wrong in exaggerating Ross’s prowess. "I do. He was, is, a very good marine and an even better officer. I can see where he would be a very formidable opponent."

  "Which is why I have several hundred men out looking for him," Cordero said, exaggerating ten-fold the force searching for Ross. "And let me be candid, major, we have hurt his little group and he has hurt us. We would like that to stop."

  Hartford nodded solemnly. Cordero was telling him that there had been some fighting and that Cordero's boys had gotten the crap kicked out of them. Otherwise he would have crowed about the so-called victory. Good for Ross and Cullen.

  "General Cordero, Lieutenant Ross is a wolf, a predator. I am afraid that anybody searching for him and the others would be much be
tter off not finding him. Ross is a killer." For an accountant, he added mentally. He had absolutely murdered debits and credits.

  Cordero laughed. "Major, once again, please. He was a bookkeeper, not a combat marine. Any success he might have had against us is either due to blind luck or the abilities of his sergeant, this Joseph Cullen." Or the likely criminal incompetence of Sergeant Gomez, he chose not to add.

  Hartford shrugged. "I would suggest that you don't sell him short. He is a well trained and highly qualified marine officer. And as to my inviting him or ordering him to surrender, that is out of the question. I appreciate the offer of safety, but our Code of Conduct would not permit it. Ross may decide to surrender if and when the situation becomes desperate and untenable, which would justify his actions, but that does not appear to be the case right now, does it?"

  Cordero shifted uncomfortably. "No, it doesn't. Nor does your answer surprise or disappoint me. I would have said the same thing. Honor is not yet exhausted, is it?"

  Hartford rose. "I hope it is never exhausted. I trust that your men will always treat mine according to the laws of human decency and the Geneva Convention."

  Cordero also stood, aware that he had just deferred to a lower ranking officer. Damn. "I can only hope that your lieutenant's obstinance and misplaced sense of honor does not result in tragedy for him, his men, and the young woman with them. Yes, we will try to abide by the Geneva Convention as well as the rules of decency, but so many things happen in the heat of battle that it is impossible to guarantee anything."

  Especially, he thought with a twinge of sadness, with an animal like Gomez searching for Ross and the others.

  The Executive Committee, ExComm, was a flexible group of men that that included as many as a couple of dozen high ranking government and military officials. Usually, though, a half dozen or so represented the key areas of the military and the executive branch of the government. The president was present for this meeting, as was the vice president, the military chiefs, the attorney general, and the secretary of defense. McCone of the CIA was also present.

  With the exception of John F. Kennedy and his brother, they were all angry to a degree. This time, the military was not going to use General Shoup as their spokesman. This time, it was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Maxwell Taylor who would speak for the assembled military.

  "Mr. President, it is now the end of January. There are more than eight army and marine divisions either at sea or poised to attack and invade Cuba. There are five carrier groups surrounding the island and, along with ground air from Florida, they are continually but ineffectively pummeling the island. I say ineffective because you have given us no specific timetable which we might use to hit targets more specifically and intensely.

  "Simply put, sir, this situation cannot go on forever. For all intents and purposes, the entire southeastern quarter of the United States is an armed camp. Airports in Miami, Tampa, Mobile, and elsewhere have been closed to civilian traffic for weeks which is causing untold harm to the economy as well as inconvenience to the civilian population.

  "Sir, when are you going to turn us loose? Or are you going to cede Guantanamo to Fidel Castro?"

  Kennedy felt the rebuke like a slap. He wanted to lash out at Taylor, but the hard of hearing old general was right. The situation could not go on forever. He looked about for allies. Lyndon Johnson was not in his camp. He was with the military. Secretary of Defense McNamara was deep in thought, probably counting up the cost of the military situation to date, and adding to it the cost of actually going to war. The dollars and cents cost, Kennedy thought unkindly, not the human cost. McNamara was a money man not a military man.

  Even his own brother, Bobby, looked impassive and not supportive.

  Kennedy cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I want a resolution to this crisis as soon as possible, but I want to avoid war if it is at all possible."

  "Appeasing Cuba would be one way," LBJ sneered.

  Oh how I hate that bastard, Kennedy thought. Why the hell did I agree to let the son of a bitch be vice president? Oh yes, because the Republican candidate, Richard Nixon, was such a threat that the Democratic ticket needed a man of Johnson's stature. Well, it had worked but now he had to deal with LBJ as his vice president.

  "Appeasement is not on the agenda, Lyndon, and it never will be. I want diplomacy to be given every chance to succeed before Americans start dying. I have again spoken to Secretary Rusk and he feels that it is just a matter of time before the blockade of Cuba begins to show results."

  "Bullshit," said General LeMay, coming to the point and obviously speaking for the others and that included Admiral Anderson, the Chief of Naval Operations.

  General Taylor looked annoyed at the outburst. "Sir, we do not believe there is any reason for Secretary Rusk to believe that a blockade will be effective. Cuba has or can grow enough food to feed her people for a very long time. A blockade will not work. And, while we are so totally focused on Cuba, there is always the chance that China will attack Taiwan, North Korea will invade South Korea, or Russia will make a grab at Berlin. I know that Director McCone has said that the Soviets will not move against Berlin, but they could always change their mind. And, as that Russian said to McCone's agent, they have no control over the Chinese. Now, we may not believe that, but it does point out the fact that we cannot go on forever with so much of our military tied up in the Caribbean."

  "Don't atomic bombs worry you?" Kennedy asked.

  "Of course they do," General Taylor answered with a touch of anger. "But the Cubans have only one and it's a small one. Yes, it can do a lot of damage to whoever is hit with it, but we would still have overwhelming strength. Sadly, sir, nuclear casualties may just be the price of a modern war."

  Kennedy squirmed and not from his back. "The fact that the Cubans have at least one nuke will come out in a couple of days. Pierre Salinger was approached by a gentleman from the New York Times who said he had proof that we know the Cubans have a nuke. He even named the item as a Frog 3 missile."

  Shoup was outraged. "There's a god damn leak somewhere."

  "Obviously," Kennedy retorted. "And the FBI is searching for it. However, the fact remains that the secret is out. Almost. The reporter agreed to sit on it for one week when we appealed to his sense of national security."

  “Nuclear casualties remain a price that might just have to be paid," Taylor said.

  "And I'm sure you're all aware of the pressure I'm under to settle this peacefully. Last night I received another letter from Pope John XXIII who urges us to pray for peace." He chuckled. "Although I had the distinct impression that His Holiness wouldn't be too upset if we kicked the crap out of the godless communists and returned Cuba to the bosom of Catholicism and Holy Mother Church."

  "The pope's a good man," Shoup said solemnly.

  "And this morning I got a request from the Organization of American States. Adlai Stevenson reports that the UN is about to pass another general assembly resolution calling for us to leave Cuba to the Cubans. It won't pass, but the vote is getting closer."

  Lyndon Johnson glared at Kennedy. "Have all of these worthy assholes forgotten that Cuba started this mess, that Cuba has killed or wounded hundreds of our military and civilians, and that Cuba has attacked and damaged or sunk two of our warships on the high seas? It looks like the OAS and the UN are suffering from politically selective memory."

  "Lyndon, I absolutely agree and so does former president Harry Truman. He called this morning and told me to get off the pot and hit the Cubans hard and where it hurts. But that is the world we live in. And what about civilian casualties? They could run into the hundreds, if not thousands."

  General Maxwell Taylor looked at him coldly. He had fought his way through Europe in World War II, including dropping behind enemy lines on D-Day as commander of the 101st Airborne Division. He had been called out of retirement just a few months earlier to take over as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

  "I once said I thought that
nuclear warfare was unlikely and I still feel it will not happen between Russia and the United States. However, if a rogue like Castro has a nuke, then all bets are off. He must be stopped and that nuke must be taken away from him, regardless of the cost. If we show weakness now, regarding either Guantanamo or that missile, our enemies will nibble us to pieces because they will know we will not respond with all the weapons in our arsenal, and that means we will not use nuclear weapons, although we will allow others to use them. We will have no allies and no credibility.

  "And regarding civilian casualties,” Taylor continued, “they are an unfortunate necessity, a fact of life in modern war. And you're right; the numbers are likely to run into the thousands, sir, not the hundreds. Please recall, that in the weeks running up to D-Day, we bombed the daylights out of France's transportation network and did so with DeGaulle's full knowledge and reluctant cooperation. Perhaps as many as twenty thousand French civilians were killed."

  LBJ glared at Kennedy. "There's an old saying, Mr. President, you can't make an omelet without breaking the eggs. The general's right. There will be casualties and we can't back away from doing the right thing because we're afraid of them."

  At this moment of decision, Kennedy was torn. He wanted Guantanamo back. He hated Castro and wanted him out of Cuba. He wanted success but he wanted it to come at a cheap price. He couldn't abide the thought of American boys being killed by an atomic bomb, however small the damn thing might be. Nor could he abide the thought of thousands of innocent Cuban women and children being blown to pieces by conventional American bombs and artillery.

  Before entering, Director McCone had handed JFK a note saying that his agent, Elena Sandano, had an important piece of information for him. She was waiting a few rooms away. He needed a break.

  Kennedy stood. "I agree we must have a decision. I will get back to you in one hour."

  "Lieutenant Ross, I have good news and I have interesting news that maybe isn't quite so good."