Cuba (16 page)

said, eyeing her.

“I’ve been luckyea”…Rita said simply.

“Toad Tarkmgton and I were made for

each other. I don’t know how the powers that rule the

universe figure out who marries whom, but I

sure got lucky.”

“I know what you meanea”…Jake said. Then he

smiled, and Rita knew he was thinking of his wife,

Callie. Jake Grafton always smiled when he

thought of her.

“So, maybe you should join me for dinnerea”…Jake said,

“since Toad is temporarily indisposed and

Callie is temporarily not here.”

“I’ve already eatenThat and tongues might wag,

Admiralea”…she said with mock seriousness.

“And probably will. Won’t do me or thee any

good.”

“I’m not going to live my life to please

pinheadsea”…Rita replied. “I’ll join you for a

drink.”

After they gave their orders to the waiter, Jake said,

“Tell me about the V-22. I’ve been wondering

about that plane but haven’t had the chance to talk to you.”

Away Rita went, talking about airplanes and

flying, two subjects they both enjoyed

immensely. The breeze coming through the open doors of the

dining room stirred the curtains and made the candles

on the tables flicker in the evening

twilight.

They were drinking after-dinner coffee when Rita

remarked, “Toad says that you still haven’t heard from

Washington about your next set of orders.”

‘That’s right.”

“I don’t want to talk about something you would rather

STEPHEN COONTS

not discuss, but he says they may ask you

to retire.”

“They might. I’ve thrown my weight around a few

times in the past and made some enemies, in uniform and

out.”…He shrugged. “Every flag officer gets passed

over for a promotion at some point and asked

to retire. My turn will come sooner or later.

Maybe sooner.”

“Are you looking forward to retirement?”"…Haven’t

thought about it that muchea”…he said. “To be honest, the

prospect of spending more time with Gallic has great

appeal.”…He rubbed his forehead, then grinned

ruefully. “It’ll hurt if they don’t find me

another job, give me another star next year.

Yet even a CNO gets told it’s time to go.

When it happens to me, Gallic and I will get on

with the rest of our lives. The tram is, when I

decided to stay in the navy after Vietnam

I never expected to get this far: thought it’d be

terrific if I made commander or captain. Here

I am with two stars in charge of a carrier battle

group.”…He snorted derisively. “Guess it

all goes to prove I’m an ungrateful bastard,

huh?”“…It goes to prove you’re human.””…ally are

very kind, Rita.”"…ally’ve really enjoyed the navy,

haven’t you?”"…Every tour has been a challenge, an

adventure. Every set of orders I’ve had, I’ve

thought, Oh, wow, this will be fun. I can’t say

I’ve enjoyed every day of it, because I haven’t, but

it’s been a good career. Like most people who have worn the

uniform, I did the best I could wherever they needed

me. I’ve worked with great people all along the way. I

have no regrets.”

One of Jake’s aides came over to the table,

smiled at Rita, then whispered in the admiral’s

ear. “The ship that left here four days ago carrying

biological warheads to Norfolk never arrived.

It is overdue.”

“Civilization begins when the strong finally realize

they have a duty to protect the weak. That duty is the

foundation of civilization, the bedrock on which everything

else rests.”

Hector Sedano stood in the pulpit and

looked at the sea of sweating, glistening faces that

packed the church to overflowing. He could feel the heat

from their bodies. There must be close to two hundred

people jammed in here.

Hector continued: “For centuries we, the people, have

abdicated our duty to a few strong men. Rule

us, we said, and do not steal too much. Do not be too

corrupt, do not betray us too much, do not shame us

beyond endurance. Protect the weak, the elderly, the

helpless, the sick, the very young, protect them from those

who would prey upon them. And protect us. If you

grant us protection you may steal a little, enough

to become filthy rich, as long as you do not rub our

faces in it.

“We give unto you the strong one a great trust because

the faith to face the evil in the world is not in us.

“O strong one, protect us because we lack the

courage to protect ourselves.”

The crowd was rapt, wanting more.

Hector Sedano had given this very same speech more

than a hundred times. Only the faces in the

audience were different. He leaned forward, reached out as

if to grab the people. They had to understand, to feel his

passion, or Cuba would never change. Perspiration

ran down his face, soaked his shirt.

“I say to you here tonight that our duty can be ignored no

longer. The hands that made the universe are delivering

our destiny into our very own human hands. We must

seize the day when it comes. We must acknowledge before

God and before each other that the future of this nation is

ours

to write,

ours

to invent,

ours

to live, and

ours

to answer for before disthe throne of heaven on Judgment

Day.”

A thunderous applause shook the tiny church.

When it died, Hector continued, “I say to you that the

future of

our

families is on

our

heads, that the fate of this people is

our

responsibility and

our

destiny.

“We shall drink every drop that God pours for us, be it

sweet or bitter, be it thin or full, be it a

tiny trickle or a

great river. We shall not turn aside from that righteous

cup.”

The applause swelled and swelled and filled the

room to overflowing; it spilled through the open doors and

windows and rushed bravely away to do battle with the

silence and darkness of the night.

“We pulled it offea”…Admiral Delgado told

Alejo Vargas.

“Nuestra Senora de Colon

is stranded on a rocky reef near the entrance

to Bahia de Nipe. Santana is ready and

waiting.”

“What took so long?”

“When she left Guantanamo the Americans

swit a destroyer to accompany her. The captain was

beside himself he thought the destroyer would accompany them

all the way to Norfolk. He faked an engineering

casualty in the Windward Passage, crawled

along at three knots. Of course, then the

destroyer refused to leave. He finally had

to announce that he had fixed the problem and steam off

at twelve knots before the destroyer

turned back.”

Vargas smiled. “If this works, I will be very

grateful to you, Delgado.”

‘There are real problems, which we have discussed. I

give this operation no more than a fifty percent chance

of success.”

“Fifty percent is optimisticea”…Alejo

Vargas replied. “I suspect the odds are a

lot worse than that. Yet they are good enough to take a

chance, and if we don’t do that, we have only ourselves

to blame, eh?”

“Doing business with the North Koreans is an

invitation to be double-crossed. How do you know they will

perform?”

“We need long-range ballistic missiles, the

North Koreans want well-designed,

well-made biological warheads. The exchange

is fair.”

“I still do not trust themea”…Delgado countered. “This

is a once-in-a-lifetime deal.”

Vargas changed the subject: Delgado was not a

partner, he was the hired help. ‘Tell me about your

evening cruise with Maximo Sedano.”

“He wants political backing when Castro

dies.”

“What did you promise him?”

“I told him you buy people or blackmail them, that

he has no chance.”

“And Alba?”

“He agreed with my assessment.”

Vargas smiled. “Let us hope Maximo

stifles his ambitions. For his sake. You told the

man the honest truth; if he chooses to disregard it

the consequences are on his head.”

Delgado said nothing. He suspected Vargas had

already talked to Alba: the admiral hoped the general

didn’t try to dress up the tale. Telling

Vargas the truth was the only way to stay alive.

Toad Tarkington was sitting by the window in the BOQ

room thinking about biological weapons and marines

dug in around a warehouse when Rita unlocked the

door and came in. She was still in uniform. His head

was thumping like a toothache and he felt like hell.

“Some anniversaryea”…he said. “1 feel like an

ass.”

She came over to the chair, knelt and put her arms

around him.

“This wasn’t the way the evening was supposed to go..

I’m sorry, Rita.”

“Our life together has been terrific,

Toad-man. You’re still the guy I want.”

He hugged her back.

“Let’s go to bedea”…she said.

The emotional impact of what he had done didn’t

hit Maximo Sedano until the jet to Madrid

leveled off after the climbout from Havana

airport.

He took the transfer cards bearing Castro’s

thumbprint from his inside left breast pocket, and

holding them so no one else in first class could read

them, studied them carefully.

He was holding $53 million in his hands and he could

feel the heat. Hoo, man! He had done it!

He took a chance, a long chance. When he walked

into Castro’s bedroom he had had the real transfer

cards in his left jacket pocket and the ones bearing

his bank account numbers in his right. Mercedes

wasn’t there that second time he was admitted, which was

a blessing. His former sister-in-law was too sharp,

saw too much. She might have decided something was

wrong merely from looking at his face.

So it was just Fidel and a male nurse, a nobody

who handled bedpans and urinals. There wasn’t a

notebook or ledger anywhere in sight, and Fidel

certainly was in no condition to closely

scrutinize the cards. He signed the cards,

transferring die money to Maximo, then let

Maximo put his thumb in an ink pad and press it

on each of them.

Fidel said little. He had obviously been given

an injection for pain and was paying minimal attention

to what went on around him. He merely grunted when

Maximo said good-bye.

The Maximo Sedano who walked into that bedroom was

his

the soon-to-be unemployed Cuban finance minister

with a cloudy future. The Maximo Sedano who

walked out was the richest Cuban south of Miami.

Just like

that backslash

The icing on the cake was that the Swiss accounts should have

perhaps a million more of those beautiful Yankee

dollars as unpd interest. Every penny was going to be

transferred to Maximo’s accounts at another bank

in Zurich. It wouldn’t be there long, however. Tomorrow

morning after he turned in these transfer cards

to Fidel’s banks, he would walk across the street

and send the money from his accounts to those he had opened in

Spain, Mexico, Germany, and Argentina. These were

commercial accounts held by various shell

corporations that Maximo had established years ago

to launder money for Fidel and the drug

syndicates, accounts’over which he had sole

signature authority. The shell corporations would

quickly write a variety of very large checks to a

half dozen other companies Maximo owned. After a

long, tortuous trail around the globe and back

again, the money would eventually wind up in Maximo’s

personal accounts all over Europe.

The scheme hinged on the bank secrecy laws in

various nations, not the least of which was Switzerland, and the

fact that anyone trying to trace the money would see

only disorganized pieces of the puzzle, not the big

picture.

Maximo smiled to himself and sighed in contentment.

“Would you care for a drink, sir”…”…the flight

attendant asked. She was a beautiful slender

woman, with dark eyes and clear white skin.

“A glass of white wine, please, something from

Cataluna.”

“I’ll see what we have aboard, sir.”…She

smiled gently and left him.

Maximo told himself that he would find a woman like that

one of these days, a beautiful woman who

appreciated the finer things in life and

appreciated him for providing them.

His wife was expecting him to return to Cuba in

three days: “I must go to Europe in the

morningea”…he had told her. “An urgent matter

has arisen.”.

She wanted to go with him on this trip of courseanything

to get off the island, even for a little while.

“Darling, I wish you could, but there wasn’t time

to make reservations. I got the only empty seat

on the airliner.”

She was not happy. Still, what could she say? He

promised to bring her something expensive from a

jeweler, and that promise pacified her.