“Would the information we can get from the satellite still serve the purpose?” the President asked.
“Absolutely,” Merriweather answered without hesitation. “The still imagery is what we need in order to provide information to the rebels.”
The President sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the frozen image at the end of the video. “What about other facilities in Cuba?”
“We have stills from seven major airfields taken on the same pass as these,” the DCI responded, pointing to the second set of photos on the table. “Sir, the Cuban government effectively has no air force remaining.”
It was really happening, the President thought. The second-to-last bastion of communism was finally crumbling, and it was on his watch.
And now it was time to commit. “Anthony, get things moving. Our investment in this may be small, but the return could be tremendous. I don’t want to miss this opportunity.”
“Gladly, sir.” Merriweather looked to the NSA with a look that begged of a challenge, but there was none.
“Then let’s do this,” the President said. He stood, as did the others in his presence, and wished them well before going to the adjoining study to complete work reviewing several policy papers.
Merriweather headed out, leaving his deputy and the NSA alone in the Oval Office. The younger man avoided the NSA’s stare for a moment. “Sorry, Bud.”
“Just what does he think he’s doing?”
Drummond looked to the door that had closed behind the President. “Not here.”
“Come on.” They were in Bud’s office a minute later, Old Executive partially visible through the windows facing west. “Your boss is now officially on my shit list. What in the hell does he think he’s doing advising the President to do this!”
The DDI knew it wasn’t a question, despite the wording. It was a release. “Anthony is out to prove history wrong, Bud.”
“What does that mean?”
Drummond took a seat on the liberally cushioned couch. “You remember old Professor Merriweather’s book, Victory in Vietnam: Winning the War We Lost. He crucified Kennedy and Johnson for failing to seize the initiative in the early stages of involvement. For some reason he left Ike out of the equation, which is kinda funny, considering his politics. Attacking two Democrats must have seemed more salient, I guess.” Drummond, the conservative Republican, let his personal politics slip into an official conversation. It was a rare enough happening that Bud’s expression changed from one of anger to one of wonder. “He thought we should have been more aggressive in trying to destabilize the North by insurrection, rather than let them do the same thing to the South. Remember the final four chapters.” A nod signaled him to proceed. “My esteemed director explained in detail how such a plan to defeat the North could have worked. First, commit minimum resources. Second, find disgruntled officers in the military. Third, use the carrot on the stick to get those officers to take out their own government. Kind of like ‘We’ll give you this, but you have to do this first.’” He looked to the dark carpeting at his feet. “When the Cubans practically walked in ready to fulfill his twenty-year-old prophecy, well…”
Bud leaned against his file-strewn desk. “Jesus, Greg. Does he have any idea what…” He stopped in mid-sentence. “Stupid question.”
“Anthony knows exactly what this could mean, but he chooses to ignore anything that might get in the way of his theory of ‘baited revolution’ being proven. He chooses to ignore a lot of things.”
“I can’t believe this. I really can’t.” Bud walked around his desk and fell into the high back chair. “Do you know what the Russians would do if they found out about this? Christ, Greg, Cuba may not be their little brother anymore, but that doesn’t mean they think there’s an implied carte blanche to kick Castro out. Dammit!” He spun the chair to face the window. “Any hint that we’re involved in Cuba would make trust a moot point. The modernization program would be down the tubes.” Bud turned back to the sullen DDI. “And Konovalenko, and his reforms, well, he doesn’t need any other pressures right now.”
“I argued for a timing change,” Drummond explained. “But Anthony wouldn’t go for it.”
“You should have gone to the President.”
The DDI raised an unsure eyebrow at the suggestion. “Right. I bypass my boss and go to the Man. Aside from the fact that I like to be able to feed my family, you know as well as I that he wouldn’t have bought it. You saw him. He’s as much into this as Anthony. Mainly because of Anthony.”
Bud knew his friend was right. It was a suggestion, really a wish, born of frustration. “Dammit, Greg. Why now? Even if it is going to work, why now?”
“Because he’s an idiot,” Drummond said. The characterization might have been harsh, but he could have said worse at the moment. “All he sees is success, and he’s got the President believing that, too. And they want it now.”
It wasn’t hard to see why the President was going along with this so willingly. Merriweather had carefully orchestrated it so that only he would advise the President on SNAPSHOT until it was actually under way. Then it would be too late to do anything about it.
So that was the reason for the show. The realization of what had really happened a few minutes before in the Oval Office came to Bud very suddenly. “Your boss is no idiot, Greg. He’s smart.”
“How do you figure?”
Bud laughed openly. “He keeps the President isolated from any negative analysis of SNAPSHOT by restricting knowledge only to those who won’t or can’t challenge the plan. Namely he was worried about me. You know as well as I that he’s never been a fan of mine, and he knew I’d have serious reservations about his operation. He also knew that the President would listen to me. So what does he do? When it’s time to let me in, he uses me to give credibility to the results we saw in there by asking for my analysis. I couldn’t lie; it looked impressive. The rebels were obviously well prepared for this, and that imagery didn’t just give Anthony the validation the President wanted — he used it to solicit my tacit approval for the President. Like you said, all they see is success, and now he’s negated the person who would have squawked the loudest.”
“I’m used to the abuse part from him,” Drummond said. “How does it feel being used?”
“It’s not so bad when you don’t know it for ninety-nine percent of the time it’s going on,” Bud joked.
Drummond couldn’t see where his friend was finding humor in this. “I wish I could laugh it off like you.”
“ ‘Once the derby starts, the horses don’t run backward,’ ” Bud said, the familiar quote bringing a smile to his face and a slight lump to his throat.
“Herb Landau sticks with you, doesn’t he?” the DDI said. He had heard the same words from his former boss in some of the darker times when events seemed to be overtaking those who were supposed to be in control. “So what now?”
“We try and keep any major fuckups from happening,” Bud said confidently. “If I know you, you’ve kept Anthony as much on the straight and narrow as is possible.”
“Except for his choice of who’s to take the reins down there.”
“Some things will have to straighten themselves out once this is done.” Maybe like in Panama, Bud thought to himself. That was still to be resolved.