“Who are you?” the approaching man barked with authority as he strode past the young man holding the door for him and into the front room.
“Manuel Gonzalez, sir. I am a courier.”
“Where are his body guards?”
“One is around back I think and the other one is in the kitchen, Sir.”
“Worthless (expletive)’s,” mumbled the officer “Is the general upstai…” he paused as the smell of blood struck him. He saw a bulky item on the chair covered by a cloth. He reached down and pulled the cloth off of it. Before his brain could register what the item was Lazaro pushed him hard into the center of the room. Both went for their guns but Lazaro had his gun and silencer pointed at Nikita’s chest before the man could fully uncover the leather flap of his holster.
“Don’t move,” Lazaro said quietly.
Now it was Nikita’s turn to freeze in fright. Lazaro moved forward and took the officer’s handgun.
“Go upstairs.”
As the two men slowly marched upstairs Lazaro could feel the tension rising in the officer building up the courage to attack him. Both spoke at the same time.
“You won’t get away with…” said the older officer, cut off by Lazaro.
“The General is alive and well. He awaits you upstairs. If all goes well you will survive this. Just don’t try something stupid.”
Nikita slowed his pace perceptibly. Lazaro pointed the gun at Nikita’s shoulder. A shoulder smashed by a bullet will make anyone compliant, if they don’t go crazy and fight you to the death. He was ready to fire when the man said, “Alright then, if you do not hurt the General I will comply with what you want me to do.”
“Very well,” agreed Lazaro. “Move it, faster, faster.”
The General was just as Lazaro left him. The woman was whimpering in pain. There was no chair that Nikita could be tied to so Lazaro laid him on his stomach and hog tied him. He cut the heavy plastic strap that bound the woman’s wrists and ankles together and strapped her limbs spread eagle to the frame of the brass bed. Lazaro noticed for the first time that she was a beautiful young woman, although a number of years older than he was. She was dressed in the thinnest of cotton pajama tops and underwear. Her skin complexion was flawless with a body to match. He was ashamed that he would be sexually aroused under these circumstances. He closed his eyes just for two seconds and bowed his head nearly imperceptibly. “Father, forgive me” he prayed silently. He modestly covered the woman with a blanket.
With the prisoners adequately immobilized Lazaro quickly prepared the house. He finished hosing down any traces of blood outside. He brought up the bloody towels and placed them in the General’s bedroom. He raided the kitchen for foodstuffs and stored them in the bedroom as well. He brought up the wounded guard, laid him on the crowded bedroom floor, then cleaned up the small amount of blood he had left on the kitchen linoleum. Anyone wandering about the downstairs would hopefully not see anything amiss.
For the last time Lazaro went into the General’s bedroom. He propped a wooden chair against the door then turned to the General.
“I want your troops to take control of Havana and arrest Castro. You have to do it from this phone here.” He said lifting the heavy black phone. “I don’t know exactly how you are going to do it, obviously. If we do not succeed you two will not leave this room alive. I at least have a chance.” Lazaro’s voice took on a low tone of depressed solemnity.
“Everyone knows if I am killed the FreeCav (FCAF) has promised to execute everyone in the chain of command responsible for my death. Everyone. Every judge or prosecutor who touches my case. Every jailer who mistreats me. Anyone and everyone I say to execute, they are bound to execute. I have given instructions to execute everyone who gives the person aid or assistance or does not turn the murder in immediately. That gives me a great deal of power, don’t you think? After I kill you they may just arrest me and keep me alive till the Free Cubans finally take over. If for some reason you survive me, I have given the Free Cubans instructions to execute you and Lieutenant Fernandez when they finally take power. So you see, you will die unless you do your best to cooperate. If you cooperate, you will be given the same protection that I enjoy.”
The General’s eyes were genuinely thoughtful as Lazaro spoke. He looked to the floor as his mind thought of moves and to the walls as he thought of countermoves. Actions and consequences. Feasibility, plausibility, morality, loyalty. A look of determination came over him. The General motioned his head to notify Lazaro that he was ready to have the tape taken off of his mouth. Lazaro did so.
“I am doing this for the welfare of my troops and Cuba. I am not afraid to die, young man. Do you hear that Nikita? You will cooperate with this. That is an order.”
The many benefits of staying alive in a time of danger could always be seen with crystal clarity. The positive repercussions that your death would bring about seemed to fade behind the dark veil of confused thought. By placing the choice of life and death before the General Lazaro simply focused the man’s mind on the changes that must be made in Cuba. The Communist party had its chance. Now Cuba needed a change.
The General continued. “This is what needs to be done…” The general explained in broad terms and a few sweeping sentences what his goals and objectives were. Guard the house, take over the media centers and capture the Palace of the Revolution -- Cuba’s center of power in downtown Havana. He would send units to race forty-seven kilometers across the island and secure the town of Batabano (bah-tah-bah-NO) and its little port.
Lazaro quite naturally should have been pleased with the General’s seeming enthusiastic cooperation but he felt only disappointment. He just wanted to get out of there.
Subconsciously he had hoped that their cooperation would not be forthcoming. He never thought they would actually cooperate. His goal was to sow seeds of confusion within the ranks, delay and buy time for the Free Cubans. Have the General give a few orders that in the end would be quickly countermanded. He would shoot them as he originally planned then attempt an escape. All that vanished five seconds after he untaped the General’s mouth. Lazaro believed him but he was not a fool. He knew this man would do anything to save his own life.
Lazaro held the phone to the General’s ear.
“Captain, I want you to dispatch the 357th to my home here on Mazon. You are to command them personally. You are to set up defensive positions around the house. Listen to me carefully. You will guard the house. No one, not even you is to come closer to the house than the sidewalk. My guards will shoot anyone who approaches the house. You shoot anyone who tries to get past you. Anyone! If anyone does, it is you who will be shot! You are to look out for disloyal troops and commanders. I think the money the Imperialists are offering is turning the heads of some of our commanders. Do not tell anyone what you do. You are completely independent from any other units. Any unit or commander who tries to countermand this order is to be deemed hostile and arrested or defended against. We have just uncovered an Imperialist plot to overthrow the government and I don’t know who we can trust. This will be my headquarters. Put Rivero in charge there. Anyone can reach me here. If you need to reach me call me at this number…”
When he was done with this most convincing diatribe the orders were confirmed and added to by Nikita. He turned out to be a pretty good actor as well, except for the slight grunting discomfort in his voice.
Within ten minutes vehicles started arriving. The first group of eight or so set up roadblocks, took positions around back and cleared out the neighboring houses. Heavier vehicles could be heard rumbling near the corners of the block. Through the drawn Venetian blinds Lazaro saw two tanks take positions in the park across the street. The gray barrels pointed outward ready to defend the army’s new HQ.
The General knew very well the men he suspected of having counterrevolutionary leanings. They were only suspicions but he would have to gamble.
“I need the lists. I need my hands! Cut these straps loose.”
“No Sir, I’ll turn the pages for you,” responded Lazaro.
It was only a few minutes when it was clear that the General needed his hands. Turning pages, cross checking against other lists in other files, writing notes. It was taking far too long. Lazaro checked the desk carefully for weapons, letter openers or heavy objects. He cut the straps that held the older man’s hands to the heavy wooden chair. The General wasted no time going through the files compiling names, cross-checking them, scratching them off and adding new ones.
For the next three hours the General worked the phone.
During a short lull the General turned to Lazaro and said, “You know I am at the point of no return. I can’t go back now. I would be shot the moment they get a hold of me. I need to be there if I am to pull off this plan.”
Havana, Cuba
October 5, 2018 “L” Day plus Four
Major Pablo Jimenez drove up to the huge Havana central railroad station riding in the front seat of a large green army truck. In the back were twelve officers and non-coms hand chosen by the General himself. The men fell in and marched up the steps toward the immense and beautiful building that now was the headquarters for the quartermaster of the Army of the West. It always seemed in any war the quartermaster would be found in the very center of luxury. This war was no different.
“I need to see Colonel Calzada on an urgent matter,” Major Jimenez barked at the first staffer he saw after striding into the anteroom of the headquarters.
“Yes sir, right through here sir. He is expecting you,” The young, thin man with black rimmed glasses said in an obsequiousness spawned from years of fear.
Major Jimenez eyed him carefully as he walked past, as though he was trying to make up his mind whether to have him shot or not. The young staffer’s Adam apple bobbed up and down in a hard attempt to swallow. Jimenez strode through the large and beautifully ornate atrium like office that had twelve rows of large old wooden desks marching in rows of four. Most of the desks were manned and many office types were busily hustling to and fro. The noise of numerous people on phones and yelling across the room reminded him of video clips of the New York Stock Exchange. He also noticed that the room had a disproportionate supply of pretty young women.
“The first appointment I’m going to ask for when this thing is over is a quartermaster’s spot,” Jimenez thought to himself.
The giant room was open to the second story where offices lined a walkway that looked down upon the many desks below. Armed guards walked up there looking down as well.
Much of the right hand wall was paneled with mahogany and behind it was Captain Calzada’s regal office. The door opened before Jimenez reached it and there stood the Captain himself with a smart salute and a warm handshake.
“Major Jimenez? I am Captain Calzada. The General called me. These facilities are at your service. Just tell me what you want and I will make the necessary preparations.”
Jimenez did not know what the General told this guy but it must have involved numerous threats to get the temperamental prima donna to move like this. The Quartermaster General’s office was rife with power, influence and corruption, and pretty women it seemed. One usually dealt with the quartermasters by offering favors, flattery and bribes. It seemed that threats worked even better. Jimenez felt the years of frustration with this very group of petty dictators bubble out of his soul like an out gassing volcano. He had the power to shoot any one that looked at him wrong and he was in a mood to do it.
“We need to get all available units moving south toward the Port at Batabano,” Major Jimenez said. “We are sending no more units east. We will form up and head out in twenty minutes. Any thing that takes longer than that to off load from the railcars will follow later.”
“Where do you want me to send them?” the Quartermaster sounded puzzled.
“We expect an amphibious landing from the imperialists in or around that port.” Jimenez relaxed a little in his gruff tone. He saw plainly that this guy could very well go over the head of the General and call higher ups the minute he left the office.
He added “Your second in command can send them down the highway to Batabano. We’ll take it from there.”
“My second in command?” the quartermaster sounded horrified.
“You Sir will be coming with us.”
“I can’t leave here,” he pleaded with the junior officer. “I just can’t! Why me specifically?”
The muscles in Jimenez’s jaw tightened and looked like little ropes on his thin face. “I don’t know sir. Those are my orders. Maybe you are to coordinate logistics with this office. I don’t know.”
Jimenez saw the color go out of the Quartermaster’s face and suspicion creep in.
“Of course,” the man tried to control his voice from rising or shaking too much but Jimenez could tell he was scared, “I will get just a few things. It will only take a minute.”
“I’ll wait.”
The Quartermaster went back into his office with Jimenez following closely on his heels. Jimenez closed the door behind himself and said, “I will tell you something in confidence. Everyone is under suspicion. They suspect traitors among us. I was told to keep an eye on you.”
The Quartermaster threw a few items into his valise and started to scribble a note to his second in command.
“May I?” Jimenez said as he picked up the paper while the man was still writing. This act of insubordination, that would have normally brought screams of indignation, now only garnered silent fear from the Captain.
He read it aloud. “Call the Palace of the Revolution, Castro himself if you can and tell him…”
Jimenez looked up from the paper to the Captain “Tell him what Calzada? That you are on the verge of being arrested for incompetence or worse?” He held up the paper. “This will not do.” He folded it up and put it in his pocket. “The General wants to see you. If you do nothing except what I tell you to do, you will live to see him. Give me any more problems I will take you out in front of this building and set you before a firing squad. Do I make myself clear?”
The Captain nodded his head.
“Your second in command, uhh, what’s his name, has already talked to the General anyway. He knows why we have come here.”
That was fully believable to the Captain. The General had asked to speak with his second-in-command, that rank climbing son of a MINIT officer, but the man was not there at the time. The General probably did track down the backstabbing moron.
He resolved not to take a chance opposing this Major. He was obviously doing the bidding of the General. There was nothing he could do. If this was a coup attempt he would not be held responsible. He received orders from his commanding officer. He could plausibly deny that he had any suspicion at all at this point.
“I understand. I would not stand in the way of your doing your duty,” the quartermaster said in a low fatalistic way.
Jimenez and the quartermaster walked out of the office and through the two rows of the General’s hand picked men. Standing at the doorway leading outside stood the quartermaster’s second in command with a puzzled look on his face. The Captain knew in an instant the General did not discuss his arrest with him.
The Quartermaster stopped in his tracks and became his old belligerent self again. “These men are unauthorized to be here. Call the guards and arrest them.”
Major Jimenez quickly responded “Captain Calzada, by the order of General Camajo you are under arrest for treason and counterrevolutionary activities. You are to come with us.”
The Quartermaster turned purple with rage when the young man did nothing in the face of these thirteen armed killers.
“I’m sorry sir,” his second apologized. The General called me and ordered me to cooperate with this Major. I cannot countermand their orders. I’m sorry sir.”
“Move along,” Jimenez barked. “Do I need to handcuff you, Sir?”
“You fool, don’t you see they are plotting a coup? Call the presidentia
l palace. Go over the General’s head. Warn them that…” he felt a sharp stabbing pain as one of Jimenez’ men prodded him with a bayonet giving him the option to move out the door or be run through. “Call them, Call them,” he yelled as he exited the building.
Jimenez turned to the young man. “I will leave Sergeant Manasa here with you. You will cooperate with him or we will be back for you,” he said with menace in his voice.
“Yes Sir.”
Jimenez cocked his head, looked into the eyes of the young man and smiled a wicked smile “Congratulations on your promotion, Captain.”
He walked out the door and shot his last parting comment over his shoulder “And you’ll need to clean up the mess out front here.”
“Yes Sir,” the young man said, not knowing what the Major was referring to but obedient nevertheless.
In less than a minute a volley of shots rang out as the Quartermaster fell to a firing squad. The young second in command had the mess cleaned up.
Nothing gets the attention of your troops like an execution. With a quick call to their higher ups the armored units found themselves under the control of Major Jimenez and his band. Fifty-seven tanks and armored vehicles lined the waterfront on Desamparados next to the train station. Jimenez gathered up the sergeants and above and nervously awaited the General’s arrival. He was late. Just as Jimenez decided to get the vehicles rolling a car rolled up with the General in the back. He jumped out and strode to the group of men. Two men hauled an ammunition crate out of a nearby truck. The General stood on it and without hesitation began.
The Cuban Liberation Handbook Page 22