Cuba (48 page)

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 these 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