54
General Alberto Gutier’s large corner office in the Interior Ministry Building was a model of vanity. The large-windowed suite, commanding a prime view of Havana’s Plaza de la Revolución, was plastered with photos of himself. Some showed Gutier as a handsome young officer commanding troops in Angola. Others showed him speaking with one — or both — of the Castro brothers. A few even showed Gutier with his own brother. But most were solo portraits of the man, gazing into the camera with mercurial poses of self-importance.
A look of aggravation registered on the flesh-and-blood face of Gutier as his younger brother strolled into the office. Juan Díaz, who had been given his late stepfather’s surname while a boy, helped himself to a seat in front of Gutier’s massive executive desk.
“You leave the country for a week, and when you return, there is nothing but chaos,” Gutier said. “You know I can’t afford any exposure with the mining operation — especially now. What is going on up there?”
“An American research ship, the Sargasso Sea, came snooping around the Domingo 1 site as we were concluding extractions.”
“Isn’t that the same vessel that happened by when you sank the drill ship?”
“The Alta. Yes, that was happenstance. But there was no happenstance in their return to the site. If they are to be believed, they were tracking plumes of mercury that are being released in the sea when the thermal vents are blown.”
“I told you that was a mistake to sink the drill ship.” Gutier scowled.
“If we didn’t clear the site, we couldn’t complete our excavation. And if we didn’t complete the excavation, we would fall short of our promised delivery.”
“You are naïve,” Gutier said. “This vessel is CIA, and they’ve discovered our deal with the North Koreans.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve confirmed that the mercury releases are occurring. Quite a large disturbance has been created from the Domingo 1 site.”
“Will that be of harm to Cuba?”
“No, the currents will carry it northeast.”
“That is good but no proof of the Americans’ intentions.”
“The vessel’s history tracks to strictly oceanographic projects,” Díaz said. “And we found no weapons or covert equipment aboard the ship. As you know, one of its submersibles was caught examining our excavation. Two men from the American ship then snuck aboard the Sea Raker and caused some damage. Commander Calzado felt it imperative to launch a counterassault, which you authorized. This was successful and the research ship has been relocated to our territorial waters.”
“There was no choice,” Gutier said, “but now we are playing with fire.”
“I feel the same, but it has already been done. There has been no outcry from the Americans yet, so we still have time to bury things.”
Gutier relaxed slightly. “This still has the potential to blow the lid on our entire project.”
“I’ve performed some calculations,” Díaz said. “We now have sufficient quantity to exceed by twenty tons our first delivery, which, incidentally, is scheduled for pickup tomorrow. I’ve taken the liberty of accelerating our final shipment to three weeks from today. Our customer has arranged for shipping accordingly.”
“That’s two months earlier than we agreed.”
“Yes, but the ore at Domingo 1 has proved a much higher grade than the previous sites. The customer will accept a reduced quantity on the second shipment if the ore contains a uranium oxide content exceeding thirty percent. We’re seeing amounts surpassing fifty percent, and I expect Domingo 2 and 3 to show similar yields. I’ve sent explosives to the sites in order to open the vents as soon as possible. If we blow the vents and begin extraction immediately, we can meet the shipment schedule. We just need to keep the Americans at bay until then.”
“You are asking a lot, but I suppose we have little choice,” Gutier said. “What about the mercury poisoning? I believe Domingo 2 and 3 are much larger thermal vents.”
“Yes, it could create an environmental disaster for the Americans.” Díaz stared up at a portrait of his brother, wearing his finest dress uniform while astride a black stallion.
“Alberto, it was I who discovered the uranium deposits during our oil surveys with the Mexicans. I was merely investigating the possibility of mining gold or silver from the vents. The existence of uranium — and in such high content — was a complete surprise. Yet it was you who saw the potential to use it to strengthen Cuba in the world. Our own leaders are not even aware of what you have accomplished.”
“Which makes it all the more damaging if things are revealed too soon.”
“You knew the risks when you engaged the North Koreans. Trading a thousand tons of high-grade uranium ore for a pair of tactical nuclear missiles was a bold gesture — and it remains such.”
“Bold but risky,” Gutier said. “I regret to say it was not even my idea. The Koreans wish to enlarge their nuclear arsenal and are short the raw materials to do it. The issue just happened to surface while we were discussing a small-arms trade. Still, it is a brilliant proposal.”
“A nuclear-armed Cuba will no longer be a pushover for the Americans,” Díaz said.
“We will take a rightful seat among the world’s powers.” Gutier clenched his fist, recalling their father’s death at the Bay of Pigs invasion. “Unfortunately, the deal can still unravel quickly.”
“Not with half the order going out tomorrow. But what of your own status? I thought you were anticipating some movement soon.”
Gutier checked his phone. “I am waiting for news at any moment.”
“The people look up to power,” Díaz said. “Bringing these weapons to Cuba will make you the country’s most powerful man. You will have achieved something that even Fidel could not.”
The words played on Gutier’s ego and his anger softened. “I am still concerned about this American ship and the possible repercussions.”
“We can say they were defecting.” Díaz smiled. “Convert the ship to our own use and quietly send the crew to a political prison.”
Gutier stared out the window, searching for a better idea. His phone beeped and he found an anonymous email with a video file attached. He played the twenty-second clip and a wide smile crossed his face.
“This changes matters.” He held up his phone and replayed the video.
Díaz watched as a man boarded a yacht, which moments later blew up in a massive fireball. A shocked look crossed Díaz’s face. “That man on the boat — he looks a lot like Raúl.”
“It is Raúl. He was in the Cayman Islands for a meeting of the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States. I had privileged information that he would be staying aboard a yacht owned by the Cayman’s deputy governor.” Gutier beamed. “It would seem there was an unfortunate accident.”
Díaz shook his head in disbelief. “My brother, that is a risky operation.”
“It was handled by outside elements. Professionals who have no interest in talking even if they thought they were killing somebody else.” Gutier gave a wry smile. “My only regret is that Foreign Minister Ruiz was not aboard. He was scheduled to have joined Raúl but canceled at the last moment.”
“An audacious action nevertheless. On the heels of Fidel’s passing, it will be a great shock to our country. Perhaps it is best that Ruiz was not there as suspicions might have been directed at you. On the other hand, you are still left in a precarious situation. The foreign minister is a lock to succeed Raúl, once our feeble vice president succumbs. You will not be able to maintain your position of power when that happens.”