Cuba (45 page)

carefully and give me your answer later.”

Sedano scratched his head. Vargas probably

couldn’t see past the glow of his cigarillo tip, so

it didn’t matter much what he did.

“I want to know what Fidel did with the

gold from the pesos. I want you to tell me.”

“Me? I was six years old when he melted the

gold, if he did.”

“I think you know. I think Fidel told

Mercedes, and Mercedes told you. So I have come

to ask you where it is. Will you tell me?”

“She didn’t tell me about gold.”

“I should not have asked so quickly. I told myself I

would not do that, then I did. I apologize. I will

ask you later, when you have had time to think about the question and

all the implications.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“Well, think about it; that is all I ask. Of

course I will talk to Mercedes. I think she also

told you or the CIA about Fidel’s Swiss

bank accounts. When Maximo went to get the money

it was not there. I would like to have been there

to see the look on Maximo’s faceah, yes,

that

was a moment, my friend!”

He chuckled, then drew on the cigarillo, made

the tip glow.

“Maximo thinks the Swiss stole it; he is very

gullible. I smell the CIA. The CIA could

reach into Swiss banks as easily as you and

I breathe.”

‘The world is quite complex.”

“Isn’t it”…”…Vargas sighed. “All the strings lead

to Mercedes. She knew too much for her own good. I

think she will do the right thing. She is a loyal

patriot. With Colonel Santana asking the

questions, I have faith that she will do what is best for

Cuba.”

Hector could feel the sweat beading up on his

forehead. He made sure his voice was under his

complete control before he spoke. “For Cuba?”

“For Cuba, yes. Cuba and me, our interests are

identical. I want the gold, Father, and I intend

to get it. Able you sit here rotting, you think about that.”

Alejo Vargas turned and walked away, still puffing

on the cigarillo. ,

The smell of the tobacco smoke lingered in the cell for

hours. Hector fancied that he could still smell it

when daylight began shining through the window high in the

wall at the end of the corridor.

The submariners put the computer in a plastic

garbage bag to keep it dry, then put bag and

computer into a backpack that one of the sailors had for

his liberty gear. William Henry Chance put on

the backpack and the sailors adjusted the

straps.

. “You should be okay, sirea”…they said. At a nod from

the sound-powered telephone talker, Chance started up

the ladder with Tommy Carmellini right behind him. They

came out of the hatch on the submarine’s deck forward

of the island. The deck wasn’t much, merely wet

steel that curved away right and left into the black

ocean.

Hovering hi the darkness overhead was a helicopter the

downwash from the rotor blades made it hard

to breathe. Amid the comflashing lights and spotlights,

his eyes had a hard time adjustingChance felt almost

blind. One of the sailors on the deck put a horse

collar over his head and he went up into the chopper

first. Then Carmellini.

A strong set of hands pulled him into the chopper.

After a wave at the officers in the sail cockpit,

Carmellini used hands and feet to get over to the

canvas bench opposite the open door where Chance

had found a seat.

Forty-five minutes later the helicopter landed on

the flight deck of USS

United States.

As the rotors wound down, an officer in khakis

came to the chopper’s door, and shouted,

“Mr. Chance? Mr. Carmellini?”

“Right here,”

“My name is Toad Tarkington. Will you gentlemen

come with me, pleddase? The admiral is waiting.”

Tommy Carmellini felt completely out of

place, completely lost. After the submarine and the

helicopter, the strange sounds, smells, and

sensations of the huge ship underway in a night sea

seemed to max out his ability to adjust.

The compartment where Toad took the two agents was

packed with people, all talking among themselves. Still, compared

to the flight deck and the sensations of the helicopter, it

was an oasis of calm. Toad led them to a corner

of the room and introduced them to Rear Admiral

Jake Grafton.

Grafton was a trim officer about six feet

tall. The admiral’s gray eyes captured

Tommy’s caret attention. The eyes seemed

to measure you from head to foe, see all there was to see,

then move on. Only when the eyes looked elsewhere

did you see that Grafton’s nose was a trifle

too large, and one side of his forehead bore an

old scar that was slightly less tan than the skin

surrounding it.

Toad Tarkington was several inches shorter

than the admiral and heavier through the shoulders. He was

a tireless whirlwind who dazzled a person meeting

him for the first time with quick wit and boundless energy, which

seemed to radiate from him like the aura of the sun. He

smiled easily and often, revealing a set of

perfect white teeth that would have made any dentist

proud.

Jake Grafton and William Henry Chance

stood behind Toad watching him work Alejo

Vargas’s computer. Toad stared at the screen

intently while his fingers flew over the keys.

Soon they were plotting positions on a chart. “Those

missiles have to be at these locations,

Admiralea”…Toad said, pointing at the places he

had marked on the chart, “or the data in the computer

is worthless.” He looked over his shoulder at

Chance. “Could this computer be a plant?”

Chance glanced at Carmellini, who was sitting in a

chair against the wall studying the layout and furnishings

of the planning space and the knots of people engaged in a

variety

STEPHEN COONTS

of tasks. The roar of conversation made the place

seem greatly disorganized, which Tommy realized was

an illusion. Charts on the wall

decorated with classified information, planning tables,

file cabinets sporting serious padlocks,

battle lanterns on the overhead, copy machines,

burn bagsthe place, reminded him of the inner

sanctums of the CIA’S headquarters at

Langley.

“Very doubtfulea”…Chance answered, and bent over to study

the chart Toad was marking.

“I make it six sitesea”…Toad said.

“Could there be more missiles”…”…Jake Grafton

asked. He too glanced at Carmellini, then

turned to Chance. “You see the pitfalls if there are

missiles we don’t know about?”

“Yes, sir. I can only say we have seen

evidence for at least six.”

“Six silosea”…Toad mused, studying the locations.

“There is a warhead manufacturing facility

someplace on that islandea”…Chance said. “The viruses

would have to be dried out, put in whatever medium the

Cubans believe will keep them alive and virulent

and dormant until the warhead explodes, then the

medium sealed inside the warheads. The facility will

not be large, but it will have clean rooms, ah-

scrubbers, remote handling equipment, and I would

think a fairly well equipped lab on

site.”

“Any ideas”…”…Jake Grafton asked.

“I was hoping that the satellite reconnaissance people

might be able to find the site if wejtell them what

to look for.”

“We’ll have them look, certainly, but ypu have no

independent information about where this facility might be?”

“No.”

Jake motioned to Carmellini, who leaned in so that he

could hear better. “Here is the situationea”…the

admiral said. “The White House has ordered us

to go get those missile silos as soon as possible.

Bombing the silos is outwe are to remove the

warheads and destroy the missiles. What my staff

and these other folks here tonight are trying to decide

is how best to go about doing what the president wants

us to do. Obviously, if we had enough time we could bring

in forces from the States and assault the silo

locations with forces tailored for the job. If we had

enough time we could even do a dress rehearsal, make

sure everyone is on the same sheet of music.

Unfortunately, the White House wants the

silos taken out as soon as possible.”

“How soon is possible”…”…Chance asked.

Jake Grafton took a deep breath,

then let it out slowly. “That’s the sixty-four

dollar question. We must find out what’s there before we go

charging in.”

He stood, walked over to a chart of Cuba that was

posted on the bulkhead. He was looking at a

penciled line on the chart that went through the Windward

Passage and along the northern coast of Cuba*

all the way to the narrowest portion of the Florida

Straits. The cruisers should be in position by six

o’clock this evening.

Jake turned from the chart and gestured at the people at the

planning tables. “These folks are just looking at

possibilities. We must assemble sufficient

forces to do the job, yet we run huge risks if

we take the time to assemble overwhelming force. There

is a balance there. When we see the latest

satellite stuff we’ll have a better idea.”

“I would be amazed if there are any troops around

these silos,” William Henry Chance said.

IT-HEIR existence has been overlooked by two

generations of photo interpretation specialists. The

Cubans know that the whole island is painstakingly

photographed on a regular basiswe’ve been

looking at those damned silos for forty years and

didn’t know what they were. They must be

underground and well camouflaged.”

“I’m not sending anybody after those things until I

know what the opposition isea”…Jake said bluntly.

“I don’t launch suicide missions.”

“Are the silos your only target”…”…Chance asked.

Jake Grafton examined the tall agent with

narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The Cubans grew the viruses for their warheads in

a lab in the science building of the University of

Havana. If we walk off with the warheads in the

missiles, there is nothing to prevent the Cubans from

cooking up another batch and putting it in planes

to spray all over Florida and Georgia and

wherever.”

“You are suggesting that we target their lab?”

“I highly recommended it. Chances to step on

cockroaches are few and far between: we better put

Alejo Vargas out of business while we have the

chance.”

“All I can do is make a recommendation

to Washingtonea”…the admiral said.

“And the processing facility. If we are going

to take Cuba out of the biological warfare

business, we should do it right.”

“Can we bomb any of these

places”…”…Toad Tarkington asked.

“Oh, noea”…Chance said. “A bomb exploding in a

lab full of poliomyelitis virus would be the

equivalent of a biological warhead detonating.

The virus would be explosively liberated.

Everyone downwind for a couple hundred miles,

maybe even farther, would probably die. No, the

only way to destroy the virus is with fire.”

Jake Grafton scratched his head.

“The temperature would have to come up really quickly

to kill the viruses before the place started venting to the

atmosphereea”…Chance added. “A regular old house

fire wouldn’t do it. We need something a lot

hotter.”

‘The fires of hellea”…Toad said, and his listeners

nodded.

The first batches of satellite imagery began coming

off the printers within an hour after the suspected silo

locations were encrypted and transmitted. The air

intelligence specialists were soon bent over the

images, studying them with magnifying glasses. Before

long Jake Grafton was shoulder to shoulder with the

experts.

“This first location looks like it’s smack in the middle

of a sugarcane fieldea”…the senior Air

Intelligence officer groused.

Jake Grafton didn’t have to think that over very

long. “Let’s assume that our global positioning

is more accurate than the Cubans”.”

“You mean they don’t know the silos’ exact

latstlong locations?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, the nearest building to this sugarcane field

is this large barn, which is about three-quarters of a

kilometer away.”…The specialist pointed. Jake

used the magnifying glass.

“That could be itea”…he muttered. “Let’s see what

we can dig out of the archives. How long has this barn

been here, have there ever been any large trucks

aroundlet’s look in all seasons of the yearand are

Cuban Army units nearby? I’m really

interested in army units.”

“Power linesea”…the senior AI officer mused.

“Strikes me that there ought to be a large power feed

nearby.”

“It sort of fitsea”…Toad Tarkington said

to Jake. “If they built the barn first, then they could

dig the silo inside the barn and truck the dirt out