Cyclops

    "Better be soon."

    "In my speech during the Education Day celebration."

    Raul checked the calendar on his watch. "Five days from now."

    "A perfect opportunity."

    "I'd feel better if we could test the President's mood toward your proposal."

    "I'll leave it to you to contact the White House and arrange for a meeting with his representatives during the Education Day festivities."

    "Before your speech, I hope."

    "Of course."

    "Aren't you tempting fate, waiting until the last moment?"

    "He'll take me up on it," said Fidel through a cloud of smoke. "Make no mistake. My gift of those three Soviet cosmonauts should have shown him my good intentions."

    Raul scowled. "Could be he has already sent us his reply."

    Fide I turned and glared at him. "That is news to me."

    "I didn't come to you because it was only a blind guess," said Raul nervously. "But I suspect the President used Raymond LeBaron's airship to smuggle in an envoy behind the back of Soviet intelligence."

    "Good Christ, wasn't it destroyed by one of our patrol helicopters?"

    "A stupid blunder," confessed Raul. "There were no survivors."

    Fidel's face mirrored confusion. "Then why is the State Department accusing us of imprisoning Mrs. LeBaron and her crew?"

    "I've no idea."

    "Why am I kept in the dark on these matters?"

    "The report was sent but not read, like so many others. You have become a difficult man to reach, big brother. Your attention to detail is not what it used to be."

    Fidel furiously reeled in the line and undid the harness to the fighting chair. "Tell the captain to turn the boat toward the harbor."

    "What do you intend to do?"

    Fidel cut a wide smile around the cigar. "Go duck hunting."

    "Now? Today?"

    "As soon as we get to shore I'm going to hole up at my country retreat outside Havana, and you're coming with me. We'll remain secluded, taking no calls and meeting with no one until Education Day."

    "Do you think that wise, leaving the President hanging, shutting ourselves off from the Soviet internal threat?"

    "What harm can it do? The wheels of American foreign relations turn like the wheels of an ox cart. With his envoy dead, he can only stare at a wall and wait for my next exchange. As for the Russians, the opportunity isn't ripe for them to make their move." He lightly punched Raul on the shoulder. "Cheer up, little brother. What could possibly happen in the next five days that you end I can't control?"

    Raul vaguely wondered too. He also wondered how he could feel as chilled as a tomb under a blazing Caribbean sun.

    Shortly after midnight, General Velikov stood stiffly beside his desk as the elevator doors spread and Lyev Maisky strode into the study.

    Velikov greeted him coolly. "Comrade Maisky. An unexpected pleasure."

    "Comrade General."

    "Can I offer you any refreshments?"

    "This damnable humidity is a curse," replied Maisky, wiping a hand over his brow and studying the sweat on his fingers. "I could use a glass of iced vodka."

    Velikov picked up a phone and issued a curt order. Then he gestured toward a chair. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

    Maisky fell wearily into a soft leather chair and yawned from jet lag. "I'm sorry you weren't warned of my coming, General, but Comrade Polevoi thought it best not to risk interception and decoding of your new instructions by the U.S. National Security Agency's listening facilities."

    Velikov raised his eyebrow in a practiced motion and gave Maisky a wary stare. "New instructions?"

    "Yes, a most complicated operation."

    "I hope the chief of the KGB isn't ordering me to postpone the Castro assassination project."

    "Not at all. In fact, I've been asked to tell you the ships with the required cargoes for the job will arrive in Havana Harbor half a day ahead of schedule."

    Velikov nodded gratefully. "We can use the extra time."

    "Have you encountered any problems?" asked Maisky.

    "Everything is running smoothly."

    "Everything?" Maisky repeated. "Comrade Polevoi was not happy about the escape of one of your prisoners."

    "He need not worry. A fisherman found the missing man's body in his nets. The secret of this installation is still secure."

    "And what of the others? You must know the State Department is demanding their release from Cuban officials."

    "A crude bluff," Velikov replied. "The CIA hasn't a shred of proof the intruders are still alive. The fact that Washington is demanding their release from the Cubans instead of us proves they're shooting in the dark."

    "The question is, What are they shooting at?" Maisky paused and removed a platinum cigarette holder from his breast pocket. He lit a long, unfiltered cigarette and exhaled the smoke toward the ceiling. "Nothing must delay Rum and Cola."

    "Castro will speak as promised."

    "Can you be sure he won't suddenly change his mind?"

    "If history repeats itself, we're on firm ground. El jefe maximo, the big boss, hasn't turned down a chance to make a speech yet."

    "Barring accident, sickness, or hurricane."

    "Some things are beyond human control, but I don't intend to fail."

    A uniformed guard appeared with a chilled bottle of vodka and a glass resting in a bed of ice. "Only one glass, General? You're not joining me?"

    "Perhaps a brandy later."

    Velikov waited patiently until Maisky had consumed a third of the bottle. Then he took the leap.

    "May I ask the deputy of the First Chief Directorate to enlighten me on this new operation?"

    "Of course," Maisky said sociably. "You are to use whatever electronic capability under your command to force the United States space shuttle down in Cuban territory."

    "Did I hear you correctly?" asked Velikov, stunned.

    "Your orders, which come from Comrade President Antonov, are to break into the computerized guidance control sensors of the space shuttle Gettysburg between its earth reentry and approach to Cape Canaveral and direct it to land on our military airfield at Santa Clara."

    Frowning, baffled, Velikov openly stared at Maisky as if the KGB deputy were mad. "If I may say so, that's the craziest scheme the directorate has ever conceived."

    "Nevertheless, it has all been worked out by our space scientists," Maisky said airily. He rested his foot on a large accountant's-type briefcase. "The data are all here for programming your computers and training your staff."

    "My people are communications engineers." Velikov looked totally lost and sounded the same way. "They don't know anything about space dynamics."

    "They don't have to. The computers will do it for them. What is most important is that your equipment here on the island have the capability to override the Houston Space Control Center and take command of the shuttle."

    "When is this act supposed to take place?"

    "According to NASA, the Gettysburg begins her earth reentry roughly twenty-nine hours from now."

    Velikov simply nodded his head. The shock had quickly melted away and he regained total control, calm, mind clicking, the complete professional. "Of course, I'll give you every cooperation, but I don't mind saying it will take more than an ordinary miracle to accomplish the unbelievable."