by Cuba (lit)
He sat down, one of the youngsters placed a glass
in front of him. The blue flame was burning
nicely.
It had been years since he did this. Was it
Rota, that time he got so blind drunk he passed out
while waiting for the taxi? Ah, but the navy was
politically correct now. Nobody got drunk
anymore.
Toad steadied himself, took a deep breath,
exhaled, and poured the burning brandy down his throat.
It seemed to burn all the way down. Some of the
liquid trickled from his lips, still on fire, but he
licked it up with his tongue. Was he burning? He
didn't think so. He wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand just to make sure.
The members of his audience were gazing at him with
openmouthed astonishment. "Jesus, sir! We always
blow the fire out before we drink it."
Toad didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You
goddamn pussiesea"...he said, and tossed off another
one.
"Our anniversary, and you're drunk!"
Toad Tarkington felt like he had been hit by a
large truck, an eighteen wheeler, at least. He
turned in the bathroom door and looked carefully
at his spouse. He squinted to make his eyes
focus better.
"I am
not
drunk! A bit tipsy, I will grant you that. But
not drunk."...He swelled his chest and tried to look
sober. "Those puppies, thinking they could drink an
old dog like me under the table."...He snorted his
derision. ""We blow the fire out before we
drink." Ha, ha, and ha!"
Rita was sooo mad! "Oh, you"
"Excuse me."...Toad held up a finger. "Just a
minute or two, and we will continue this discussion
until you have said everything that needs to be said. There is
undoubtedly a lot of it and I am sure it will
take a while. Just one little minute." He closed
the bathroom door and retched into the commode. Then he
swabbed his forehead with a wet washcloth.
He felt better. He stared at himself in the
mirror.
You look like hell, you damned fool.
He took a long drink of water, swabbed
his face with a towel, then opened the door, and said,
"Okay, you were saying?"
She wasn't there. The room was empty.
Even her bag was gone.
He lay down in the bed. Oh, that felt gooood.
Maybe he should just lie here for a few minutes
until she cooled off and he sobered up
completely, then he would find her and apologize.
The room was whirling around, but whein he rolled on his
side it steadied out somewhat and he drifted right off.
Jake Grafton was alone at a table in the corner
of the O Club dining room when Rita Moravia
saw him and came over. He stood while she seated
herself. "You're by yourself? Where's Toad?"
"Sleeping it off. He was in the bar with your young studs
and had four drinks. Four! He's whacked."
Jake Grafton chuckled. "I don't think
I've seen him drink more than an occasional beer
or glass of wine with dinner in years."
"He doesn'tea"...she said. "Poor guy can't handle
it anymore."
"Heck of an anniversary celebrationea"...Jake
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
&nbs
p; 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