Coonts, Stephen - Jake Grafton 7 - Cuba

by Cuba (lit)

machine was in motion. The primary task Jake still

  had to address was setting the day and hour for the attack.

  As he stood looking at the charts of Cuba that

  covered the wall in the planning space, Jake and his

  staff wrestled with the timing question. Captain Gil

  Pascal, the chief of staff, argued that the operation

  should be delayed until such time as U-2's could

  fly a photo recon mission and get the very latest

  enemy troop positions.

  "Vargas made a speech todayea"...Jake replied.

  The speech and a translation had played several times

  on television. Jake had even stopped once

  to watch it.

  "Hue City

  and

  Guilford Courthouse

  are racing for the Florida Straitsea"...Toad

  Tarkington argued. "This battle group is underway.

  The Cubans may find out about these ship movements and

  put two and two together and get their wind up. They

  may be able to put twenty-four hours of delay

  to better use than we can."

  "That's the nub of it, isn't it"..."...Jake mused, and

  stood looking at the charts, trying

  to imagine how it would be.

  Sure, things would go wrong. People were going to have the wrong

  frequencies, go to the wrong places, everything

  STEPHEN COONTS

  that could go wrong would. Still, the missions were simple.

  The real issue, Jake concluded, was the

  follow-up. What were you going to do if the troops

  ran into more trouble than they could handle? How would you

  extract them? How would you destroy the target?

  Jake called the Pentagon on the satellite

  telephone. He was patched through via land line

  to General Totten at the White House.

  After the usual greetings, Jake said, "Sir,

  two points. First, I would like to address the

  proposal to delay the operation until Patriot

  SAM batteries can be moved into southern

  Florida. If we pop a Cuban missile

  over southern Florida the cloud of viruses may

  drift over to Miami or Tampa. I don't

  think we gain anything by waiting for Patriot

  batteries."

  "We've about reached the same conclusion here, but there

  has been vigorous debate. What is your

  second point?"

  "In my view, the key to getting this done

  is our willingness to do whatever is required

  to accomplish the mission."

  "The president is listening, Admiral. Explain

  yourself."

  "As I see it, General, our choice is-to either

  wait until we are convinced we can pull it off,

  or go now before the Cubans have a chance to garrison these

  sites with troops. The lab in Havana presents

  problems that the other sites do not. We will have

  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 the
se 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

  camera came, some kind of television camera, and

  he and James shook hands again. Several men in

  khaki stood behind the camera watching.

  The interpreter relayed the questions from Autrey

  James and the television cameraman. When did you

  leave Cuba, What was the name of the boat, How many

  people were there?

  "Eighty-four people."

  "Eighty four"..."...asked the interpreter in disbelief.