Ramón was impressed. If one couldn’t reach the kingpin, the destruction of the props might suffice. Yet he hadn’t thought of that possibility himself.
“Can you kill them?” he asked.
“Colonel Escortia is careless,” the Professor said. “He moves on a schedule, and his daily routine varies little. He can be killed. Almost in any time-span. Loomis would be more difficult. But not impossible. His activities are erratic. He used to spend much time in the whorehouses. But he hasn’t been there much lately. He once shunned other norteamericanos, excepting now and then one of the women from the divorce flights. But now he seems to have invited some norteamericanos into the country. He has set up a sort of headquarters in the Jaragua and spends time there with them and with other members of El Jefe’s staff. But he is also careless, and perhaps arrogant. He could be watched and killed.”
Ramón felt a vague stirring of prescience. For some time he had sensed that some unknown factor was affecting the government, altering decisions. The Professor’s words provided the first solid clue.
“Tell us more about these headquarters,” he said.
Professor Salamanca shrugged and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “It is something new,” he said. “Security around the Jaragua is tight. We do know that they’ve installed special communications equipment of some kind. There is a lot of activity. At least a dozen norteamericanos have flown in by commercial jet, and we’ve had reports of unmarked planes setting down briefly to unload both passengers and cargo. Yesterday, a tanker anchored out past the breakwater. There are reports that the Duarte fired a shell across the tanker’s bow, but I cannot confirm this. As you know, the Duarte often fires its guns in practice. And I understand that with the five-inch gun, once you have loaded, the only practical way to unload is to fire it. But we do know that Loomis, some of the norteamericanos, and two dozen or more Dominicans went aboard. The ship’s crew was taken to the university, and as far as we can determine, they are still there. We don’t know what’s happening.”
Ramón allowed his anger to surface. He struck the table with his fist. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”
The Professor seemed undisturbed by the outburst. “It happened only yesterday,” he said. “And we didn’t know where you were.”
“But the headquarters, the norteamericanos landing. You should have reported these things.”
“We weren’t certain of anything,” the Professor said. “If I reported all the vague rumors that come to me, I would have time for nothing else.”
“Do you suppose they’re preparing for intervention by the United States?” Doctor Paredes asked.
“The norteamericanos undoubtedly are CIA,” Ramón agreed. “But what could the tanker have to do with it? I don’t understand that at all.”
“If El Jefe has opened the door to the CIA, intervention won’t be far behind,” Doctor Paredes predicted.
“My information from Washington is that they won’t intervene, no matter what the provocation,” Ramón said. “Criticism was heavy after the last occupation — in sixty-five. Much has been written that President Johnson received bad information from both State and the CIA and that the occupation was unnecessary. And of course the intervention in Vietnam almost wrecked the country. I personally don’t think any American president would risk it, no matter what pressures he might be under.”
“Well, they’re up to something, apparently,” Doctor Paredes said.
“We may be jumping to conclusions,” lawyer Morales pointed out. “It might be something that has nothing to do with the revolution.”
Ramón considered that possibility. “The communications equipment worries me,” he said. “The tie-up undoubtedly is to Washington.”
“Special Projects Division, CIA, perhaps,” Doctor Paredes said. “Maybe they’re preparing to direct El Jefe’s military operations and provide so-called specialists, as they did in the earliest days in Vietnam.”
“I don’t think so,” Ramón said. “El Jefe has resisted them for years. Why would he suddenly do a complete about-face?”
“It must have something to do with the tanker,” Morales said. “Perhaps a smuggling operation.”
“That is likely,” Ramón agreed. “I think there is a strong possibility that it has nothing to do with the revolution.”
“But we must keep it in mind,” Doctor Paredes said. “We must not forget the possible ramifications.”
“Agreed,” Ramón said.
“I don’t think we should let it deter us from our path,” Professor Salamanca said.
Ramón smiled. “And what is our path, Professor? The capital? Let’s examine the pros and cons. What would be the worst thing that could happen if we move on the capital?”
“Failure,” Doctor Paredes said. “Total defeat.”
“Impossible,” Professor Salamanca said. “Absolutely impossible. We’ll never be more ready.”
“We can’t hold out here long,” Morales said. “And if we fall back, the government troops will increase the pressure on Santiago and in Santo Domingo.”
Professor Salamanca nodded. “And by the same token, if we move on the capital, the government will pull troops from both Santiago and San Francisco, relieving pressure on both. Our forces in the Cibao would then be able to hold until the issue in the capital is decided.”
Ramón tended to agree. “Let me recapitulate,” he said. “We concur that we cannot hold indefinitely the ground we have gained. The pressure is too formidable. And we cannot retreat. The psychological setback would be too severe, perhaps disastrous. Our only recourse is to maintain our forward momentum by moving on the capital with an all-out attack. Is there any disagreement?”
There was none.
“On the whole, Professor, I endorse your proposed plan of battle,” Ramón said. “I appreciate the element of surprise. The government forces will be expecting pressure at the Duarte Bridge. This plan will isolate their strong points. Yet, by controlling the eastern approaches, we can control the bridge. I only see one serious disadvantage. Once fighting begins in earnest, our troops will be isolated, boxed in by the river, the sea, and the two fighting fronts. How do you propose to supply our forces throughout sustained fighting?”
“By controlling the tidal basin and the docks,” the Professor said. “We would move supplies in from the east, here, then cross the river, perhaps under cover of darkness, at this point here. If the government moves strong forces across the bridge to hit our supply route, pressure would be relieved on the fighting fronts.”
Ramón immediately grasped the daring ingenuity of the plan. There was a calculated risk in dividing forces. But if the tidal basin were controlled, the government forces would be spread along a lengthy front.
Ramón laughed. “Marvelous. My congratulations, Professor. Does anyone object to the basic premise of the plan?”
There was no response.
“Then we are in agreement,” Ramón said. “We will attack, using this basic plan. And the sooner the better, as we cannot long hold out here. Would daylight, day after tomorrow, be satisfactory, Professor?”
“We will be ready.”
“Good,” Ramón said. “Let’s prepare the details.”
The battle maps were spread, and for two hours the rebel commanders drafted assignments, prepared orders, and designated sector responsibilities. Ramón found that he had little to do but listen. His commanders were thorough, experienced men. Most had survived previous revolutions, and were now putting into practical use the valuable lessons they had learned.
The work was interrupted by Alfredo’s soft knock at the door. Ramón excused himself and went out into the stairway. A runner from divisional headquarters stood waiting. His message was brief: María Elena de la Torre had been captured by rebel forces in Santo Domingo and was now being brought by car to San Francisco.
Ramón returned to the conference, walked to a cabinet, and broke out the priest’s communion wine. He filled nine chalices, and
signaled to Alfredo to distribute them at the table.
Ramón proposed the toast. “I have a feeling, gentlemen, that the revolution has entered a new phase.” He lifted his chalice. “To our success, gentlemen.”
Before the silver chalices returned to the table, Alfredo opened another bottle in preparation for the second toast.
Chapter 21
Minus 3 Days, 00:57 Hours
Loomis put every available man and every waking moment into the search for María Elena. He led four raids on known rebel assembly points. More than two hundred suspected rebels were rounded up and thoroughly questioned. Every informant listed in the secret books of the Policía Nacional was alerted to the ten-thousand-peso reward posted personally by El Jefe.
But results were meager.
The best information came from a minor rebel official who collapsed under interrogation. He confirmed Loomis’s fear that María Elena had been taken into rebel-held territory. He didn’t know where.
Loomis at last had to admit that without more information he was helpless. If he could ascertain Ramón’s exact location, a surprise raid into rebel territory might succeed. Or an infiltration might prove effective. But under intensive questioning, the rebel consistently denied he even knew what city Ramón presently was using as his headquarters. The rebel offered his own private view that one of the weaknesses of the revolution was Ramón’s practice of never remaining long in one place. Even members of the headquarters staff often were unable to reach Ramón, the rebel said.
The palacio was besieged by news correspondents and television crews. María Elena’s disappearance was major news, and the reporters were desperate for follow-up stories. In the light of the palacio’s fortresslike aspects, most reporters quickly surmised that María Elena had left government protection voluntarily. Their main concern was the question: Had she gone over to the rebels of her own free will? On this the government maintained an official silence. Some of the reporters left, hoping to make contact with the rebels. Loomis placed them under close surveillance with the same hope. He kept his men probing into rebel activities on the chance that some stray bit of solid information would come his way.
The Hamlet search also seemed to be at a dead end. A check of dock areas along the north shore failed to turn up anything unusual. A sustained, detailed search was beyond the capabilities of Loomis’s staff. Rebels held many of the major roads in the north. Most fishing boats were at sea and for the moment inaccessible. Any of a hundred quiet, sheltered coves along the north or east shores of the island could have served as a site for transfer of a few barrels from boat to waiting truck.
Interrogators were at work on Larson and his crew, but as yet there had been no report.
For the first time Loomis and Johnson were forced to consider that they might not be searching for nuclear materials, but for an atomic bomb.
Johnson suggested that the search should now be concentrated on the bomb maker. Loomis could find no fault with his logic. Considering the dead ends, the bomb maker might offer the best opportunity for a new lead.
Complete data from more than a hundred roadblocks erected early in the search were fed into Octopus. Loomis set up a special office, containing computer terminals for direct access to Octopus. The electronic search continued on a twenty-four-hour basis.
Acknowledging that the search now must consider the possibility of a completed atomic bomb, the United States Government, at Loomis’s request, sent in an outstanding nuclear authority, Dr. George C. Coon, a small, affable man who wore a perpetual grin. Johnson had worked with Coon in the past and seemed to regard his arrival as a stroke of luck.
“Now you might think, just to look at him, that he doesn’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain,” Johnson said by way of introduction. “Well, he does. I mean, if it was raining, and he was getting wet, I really think Coon would come in out of it. Unless, of course, he happened to be thinking of something else.”
Coon grinned broadly at Johnson’s gibes and said nothing.
“He’s talented, too,” Johnson said. “Coon can stand and stare at a blank wall all afternoon and never blink.”
Coon went to work preparing a prospectus. He took many things into consideration. The Atomic Energy Commission’s MUF lists — Materials Unaccounted For — of the last twenty years were analyzed in detail. Santo Domingo’s terrain and physical features were studied. Time limitations, required hardware, and many other factors were postulated. From his contrived scenario Coon emerged with some probabilities and presented them at a conference in the Jaragua headquarters suite.
“I think the nuclear device will be placed on a roof,” he said. “Altitude is preferable. They might try for an airplane, but a nuclear drop involves a sophistication undoubtedly beyond their capabilities. I would guess that the device will be prepared at another site — some small workshop, perhaps. A home garage might do. The individual components could be manufactured elsewhere, even in another country, and assembled here. Our man undoubtedly would want to make a final check of the components, however. Or, it could be that some or all of the actual construction may be done here. My point is that he probably will spend some time, somewhere, fitting and shaping components before moving to the actual detonation site for final assembly.”
“How long will he spend at the detonation site?” Loomis asked.
“Probably a minimum of four to six hours,” Coon said. “I’m assuming, of course, that the site would be the most vulnerable factor in the whole operation. He would want to keep his time there to a minimum. But the very nature of a homemade atomic device undoubtedly would preclude merely taking it intact to the site and leaving it. First, there’s the weight to consider — several hundred pounds, at best. Some bulk, four or five feet by two or three feet, most likely. And the mechanism might be somewhat delicate. There would be the risk of jarring something out of kilter. No, I think our man would prefer to assemble the device at the detonation site. I certainly would.”
In late afternoon the first new lead arrived. Johnson returned from the Octopus terminals with a sheet of paper and in high humor.
“I’ve just received an interesting readout,” he said. “Two names. One is Clay Loomis. Served with various insurgents throughout the world, now known to be in the Dominican Republic. Might do anything if the price is right.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake. Come on, Johnson,” Loomis said.
“I can’t help it. That’s what the machine said. But the other name is more interesting. A man passed through your Boca Chica roadblock two nights ago. Gave his name as Sam Ledbetter of New Orleans. But his physical description and passport data cross-check to Otto Zaloudek, a nuclear physicist who once worked on the fringes of the scientific communities at UCLA and Los Alamos. I think Zaloudek’s our man.”
“What’s your reasoning?” Loomis asked.
“One, Zaloudek has dropped completely out of sight. A thorough search doesn’t find him anywhere. Two, he is known to have been in Europe — two trips recently, six and eight weeks ago. Three, he became disenchanted with the U.S. nuclear setup several years ago and was canned. It seems he became concerned that the two great powers were about to blow up the whole world, or something. He had a plan for disarmament. Both sides were to shoot all their nuclear goods into space.”
“I remember something of that,” Coon said. “He had some followers. No one prominent. But there was some concern over security.”
Johnson nodded. “Zaloudek apparently never had complete access to bomb design. But he was on the fringes. He saw a bit here, a bit there. The feeling is that he has the capability.”
“Most any student of physics knows the basic theory,” Coon said. “If he has an inventive mind, it’s child’s play.”
“What kind of man is he?” Loomis asked.
“A complete profile is being prepared. And we’ll be getting photos on the Photofax for distribution. But so far, we know he’s a tinkerer: slow, methodical, drives everyone around him t
o distraction with his plodding ways. He’ll be easy to spot.”
“How?”
“Easy. We can’t miss him. He’s short and round. He walks like a duck. And he’ll be busy building an atomic bomb.”
Chapter 22
Minus 2 Days, 21:50 Hours
The machine shop was far better equipped than Zaloudek expected. He had asked only for welding equipment, cutting torches, calipers, a few other tools, and a simple lathe. His conservative requests had been ignored. The Hamlet people included an elaborate drill press, complete die equipment, and a huge chest of precision tools, along with a forge and other metal-working gear.
“I won’t be needing all this,” Zaloudek told the man called Arnheiter. “It’s only in the way.”
Arnheiter shrugged. “That’s what they sent,” he said. “They even gave me a floor plan. I just did what I was paid to do.”
Zaloudek ran a hand along the edge of the drill press. “A terrible waste,” he said. “This building, everything here will be vaporized. Maybe, when we’re through, we can take some of this with us.”
“I think not,” Arnheiter said. “We’ll be damned lucky to get out ourselves. You don’t know what it’s like, up in the north, in the Cibao. Santiago was a battlefield. San Francisco is held by the rebels but is under siege. La Vega has heavy fighting.”
“But you got through,” Zaloudek pointed out.
“Only because I know the roads,” Arnheiter said. “I dodged the roadblocks.”
If Arnheiter had encountered so much trouble, Zaloudek couldn’t understand how the other people would manage to move the nuclear materials. “Are you certain the goods are safe?” he asked.
“I’m positive they were as of three hours ago,” Arnheiter said. “Of course in this fucked-up country, anything can happen. But I think they’ll reach here just after dark. We thought there would be a better chance of bringing the truck in without trouble in the early evening.”
“We don’t have much time,” Zaloudek said. He was impatient to start work. There were so many things he would have to check.
The Hamlet Warning Page 18