by Cuba (lit)
"And I thought you didn't like me."
"Thank God you finally screwed up the courage
to kiss me."
"Wish I could nowea"...he shot back.
Tears ran down her cheeks. She wanted to tell
him how
much he had meant all these years, how grateful she
was that they shared life, and nothing came out. She put
her hand over the mouthpiece so he wouldn't hear her
cry.
"Next time we're together, better not wear
lipstickea"...he said.
"I never wear lipstickea"...she managed, her voice
barely under control.
"It's a good thing, tooea"...he said, his voice
cracking.
The silence grew and grew.
"Well, I gotta goea"...Toad finally said. "They
wanna use this circuit to trade movies or
something."
"Yeah."
"Vaya con Dios,
baby."
"You too, Toad-man."
Toad found Jake Grafton hi Combat huddled
with Gil Pascal, the chief of staff. He listened
to the conversation for a moment, then realized that the admiral
was trying to assure himself that he had adequate forces
to win. Tonight!
After a bit Jake turned toward Toad.
"Let's have your two centsea"...he said.
"If we need anything, sir, it's a bigger
reserve. We have three V-22's with twenty-four
marines each to go wherever they are needed. A while
ago the CO of the carrier's marine del asked if
he and some of his people could get in on the fun.
He called
Kearsarge
and found there is one extra Osprey. It's being
used as a backup to the first wave, but if it isn't
needed, then it'll be an extra."
Gil Pascal frowned. "The carrier's marines
haven't been briefedea"...he pointed out.
Jake glanced at Toad and raised one eyebrow.
"Sir, I was hoping you would let me go with
themea"...Tarkington replied cheerfully. "I'm as
briefed as it's possible to get."...Actually, as
Ops, Tarkington wrote the plan.
"You've been planning to spring this on me all day,
haven't you?"
"I could take a satellite phone, give you a
worm's-eye
STEPHEN COONTS
view of the action, let you know if there is really a
problem."
"Did the marine det CO approach you with this
marvelous idea, or did you approach him?"
Toad turned his eyes to the ceiling. "An officer
I know well used to say, 'allyou know me." his
"I think I know that guy tooea"...Jake said, and
chuckled. "Oh, all right, damn ityou can
go. Gil and I will try to hold the fort without you. If
the backup Osprey isn't needed, you'll be part
of the cavalry. Tell the grunts to saddle up."
The Spanish-speaking sailor who acted as an
interpreter shook Ocho Sedano awake.
"Ochoea"...he said. "Ocho, a question has arisen. We
wish to know if you are related to Hector Sedano."
Ocho opened his eyes and focused on the interpreter,
who appeared reasonably clear. His eyes were
better, much better. He rolled over, men sat
up in bed. He was still in sick bay aboard
Hue City.
"Welcome back to the land of the livingea"...sd the
American sailor.
"It is good to be aliveea"...Ocho whispered.
"Did you ever give up hope?"
"I suppose. I thought I would die, and was waiting
for it. But I always wanted to live."
The sailor grinned. This was the first American he
had ever gotten to know, and he had a good grin, Ocho
thought.
"The officers want to knowea"...the sailor said, "if you
are related to Hector Sedano."
"He is my brother."
"I will tell them."
Ocho nodded, then rubbed his head and stretched. He was
hungry and thirsty. A glass of water was sitting
on a rolling table beside the bed, so he drained it.
"May I have some food?"
"I will bring some."
Ocho looked the sailor in the eyes. "I want
to go back to Cuba. I should never have left."
"I will tell themea"...the sailor said, and left him
there.
William Henry Chance and Tommy Carmellini
argued with Toad about how many marines wearing CBW
suits should go into the warhead factory with them. "Just
Tommy and Iea"...Chance said. "The more people that are in there
the greater the chance of an accident."
"How are you going to get your gear in there?"
"An armload at a time. It will take a little
longer, but with only two guys going in and out, this
whole evolution will be safer."
"What if the Cuban Army shows up while you're
working?"
"The marines can defend us until the place goes
up."
They were in a ready room under the flight deck
dressing in a corner under the television set, which was
showing a continuous briefing by the Air
Intelligence types. Radio frequencies,
threat envelopes, timing, call signs, weather,
everything was on the tube.
Carmellini was paying close attention to the
briefers, Chance was arguing with Toad. "And I'm not
taking a rifle or hand grenades or rations or
any of that combat crap."
"A pistol, then."
"Got my own. Don't want two."
"Why are you being so obstinate, Mr. Chance?"
Chance sat down heavily in one of the ready-room
chairs.
"I guess I've got a bad feeling about this
commando stuffea"...he said. "Charging in decked out like
Captain America caret with rifle in hand scares
me silly. Everybody and his brother will start
shooting, and with cultures above-ground in vulnerable
containers ..."...He shivered. "If we sneak in in
civilian clothes ... well, that's what I'm
used to. This military stuff frightens me."
"You're going to look funny walking into a dairy in
civilian clothes with flares on your shoulders if
there are Cuban troops sitting around the place
guarding the cows."
"You're right, I know."...Chance shrugged.
"Gonna be an adventureea"...Tommy Carmellini
tossed in.
"You guys are big boysea"...Toad Tarkington said.
"I'm not going to nursemaid you. But this isn't a
gamea lot of lives are at stake. If you
screw this up and we gotta go back in there later and
fix it, you guys better be dead. Don't bother
coming back."
Toad said it matter-of-factly, as if he were
discussing a payroll deduction. Chance suddenly
felt small.
"Okayea"...he said. "Two other guys in CBW
suits. But I'm in charge. If I go down,
Tommy is."
"Fineea"...sd Toad Tarkington, and went to find an
encrypted telephone.
Terror wasn't going to be enough to keep Alejo
Vargas in office. He knew that. He could put the
fear of God in the little sons of bitches and keep it
there, bu
t to sleep nights in Fidel's house he was
going to have to govern the country, to give a little here, a
little there, and so on. He was prepared to do thathe had
watched Fidel manipulate these people all of his
adult life.
Today he sat in his office at the Ministry
of the Interiorhe had had no time to move to the
presidential palacereceiving the members of the
Council of State, of which he was the president.
"Senor Ferrara, it is a pleasure to see you
again."
Ferrara was short, fat, and wheezed when he moved.
He was a member of the'Council of State and the
minister of electric power. He dropped into a
chair across the desk from Vargas and wiped his forehead
with a handkerchief.
"Good day, Senor President."
Colonel Santana handed Vargas Ferrara's
affidavit. Vargas merely glanced at the
signature, then laid it in his top right-hand drawer
with the others. He didn't read it because he knew
exactly what the affidavit containedan emo-
tional eyewitness account of the murder of Ratil
Castro by Hector Sedano. Vargas and
Santana had drafted the document this morning.
Before each member of the Council of State met with
Vargas, Santana presented them with an
affidavit for signature. Most intuitively
understood that signatures were mandatory, and those that
didn't had the facts of life explained
to them. So far, all had signed.
"I appreciate your support in this matter,
Ferrara."
"I will be frank with you, Vargas. That document
means nothing."...He gestured toward the desk drawer.
"You may be able to crack the whip in Havana, but the
people do not support you. They want Hector Sedano
in the presidential palace."
"They will find a place in their heart for me."
"Fidel Castro lasted for over forty years because he
had the support of the people. The members of the National
Assembly, the Council of State, the ministers,
could not oppose him because they had no base of
support. The Department of State Security
didn't control the population Fidel did."
"He did not tolerate opposition, nor will I."
Ferrara said nothing.
What was it about Ferrara? Something was in the files, but
he hadn't looked at that file in years, and now it
was gone. "Was it your daughter?"
Ferrara's face became a mask.
"Your daughter... something about your daughter..."
He stared into Ferrara's eyes.
"Help me a little."
Even Ferrara's wheezing had stopped.
"Maybe it will come to me."...Alejo Vargas leaned
back in his chair. "Or maybe I will forget
completely."
Santana came in just then, handed him a sheet of
paper, and said, "The ambassador to the United
Nations received this note from the American UN
ambassador."
"Thank you for stopping by, Senor Ferrara. I
appreciate
you executing this affidavit. I look forward to working
with you in the future. Good day."...Ferrara went.
Vargas read the note. "Any other American
reaction to my speech or their president's?"
"Yes,
sir.
As we expected, the American pundits generally
support their president, but there are many who feel
the United States has goaded Cuba
into military adventurism with their political
shunning of Castro. This feeling is widespread in
Europe. Around the world there are many who feel that
Cuba has endured much oppression at America's
hands."
Vargas nodded. All the world roots for the underdog.
'The American carrier battle group that
was in Guantanamo is now south of the Isle of
Pines. They have only a few planes aloft."
"And General Alba? Is he getting troops
into position around the silos?"
"Yes, sir."
"Make sure the air force is on full alert, the
army, the navy, the antiaircraft missile
batteries, everyone. If the Americans come we will
bloody their nose, perhaps even launch a missile.
One missile will teach them a bitter lesson. They
have never seen anything like that virus: they will have no
stomach for it. The error of their ways is about
to become quite apparent."
"You do not believe this 'massive retaliation"
threat?"
"It is laughableea"...he scoffed. "No American
president will ever order the use of weapons of mass
destruction, even in retaliation. The Americans
stopped making war years agothey use force to send
messages to "bad" governments, never to kill
the civilians who support that government. Guilt
is the new American ethic: they would be horrified
at the murder of the hungry."...He waved his hand
dismissively, then became deadly serious:
"The Yanquis may, however, screw up
the courage to use force against our armed forces. If
so, the Cuban people will rally to the flag and we shall
heroically defend our
national honor. And use the missiles to show them the
error of their ways."
"Cubans are patriotsea"...Santana agreed.
"After the Bay of Pigs, Castro was president for
life."
"A man with the right enemies can do anythingea"...Vargas
declared, and smiled.
While Alejo Vargas and Colonel Santana
were conferring in Havana, the Americans opened
fire. Three Spruanceclass destroyers that had
sailed from Mayport soon after sunrise were now
fifty miles off the Florida coast headed south,
well away from the coastal shipping lanes. They
began launching Tomahawk cruise missiles from
the vertical launchers buried in the deck in front
of their bridges. Although each ship carried
forty-eight Tomahawks in their vertical launch
tubes, they only launched twenty missiles
each.
On the bridge of USS
Comte de Grasse
the captain watched with binoculars as his
missiles leveled out from then- launch climb and
disappeared into the sea haze. One of the missiles
dove into the ocean, making a tiny splash.
"There went three million bucksea"...he muttered.
After the launch was complete, he called down
to Combat on the squawk box. "How many
successfully launched?"
"Nineteen, sir."
"And the other ships?"
"Twenty and eighteen, Captain."
"What is the time of flight?"
"An hour and twenty minutes, sir."
"Very well. Report the launch."
Not bad, the captain thought, and gave orders
to secure from General Quarters.
God help the Cubans, he thought, then turned to the
navigator to discuss the voyage to the Florida
Straits, where
Comte de Grasse
and her sister ships would join the Aegis cruisers
already there.
Aboard USS
/> United States,
Jake Grafton seated himself in the admiral's
raised chair in Combat and surveyed the
computer displays. Gil Pascal, the chief of
staff, was also there along with the ship's air wing commander,
the Combat Control Center officer and the members of his
staff.
Jake leaned over and whispered to Pascal. "See
if you can find me some aspirin, please."
"Yes, sir."
He was looking over the plan and watching the display of
commercial traffic going in and out of Jose Marti
International Airport in"...Havana when a chief
petty officer handed him the encrypted satellite
phone.
"Admiral Grafton, sir."
"This is the president, Admiral. How goes the
war?"
"We already have Tomahawks in the air, sir, but the
Cubans won't know what's coming for an hour or
so."
"We're sweating the program here in Washingtonea"...the
president continued. "Our feet are getting
frosty. If we chicken out, could the airborne
Tomahawks be intentionally crashed?"
Jake Grafton took a deep breath and exhaled
before he answered. "Yes, sir. That is possible."
"Let's hold on to that option. I'm
sitting here with General Totten and the senior
leadership of the Congress. I want your opinion on
this question: Should we postpone this show for a day or two?
Or indefinitely? What are your thoughts?"
Jake Grafton licked his lips. In his mind's
eye he could see ballistic missiles rising from
their silos on pillars of fire, and sailors, just
like the ones manning the computers here in Combat aboard
United States,
sitting in front of radar scopes and computer
keyboards aboard the Aegis cruisers.
"Mr. President, I have also been thinking about the
risks. The only thing I can promise is that we will
do our best.
No one can guarantee results. Still, in my
opinion, considering just the military risks, we should
go now, without delay."
"Thank you, Admiralea"...the president said.
"Jake, this is Tater Totten."
"Good evening, sir."
"Just wanted to say good luckea"...the general said, then the
connection broke.
Jake Grafton handed the handset to the chief.
"Here is your aspirin, Admiralea"...Gil
Pascal said, holding out water and three
white pills.
Four EA-6But Prowlers sat on the ramp at
NAS Key West. Their crews stood lounging
around the aircraft. They had flown in just an hour
ago, and now the fuel trucks were pulling away. The