Few balked. Leaders of the militant African Nationalist Movement had held a council of war in the morning and discussed defying the Administration’s request to evacuate. After a vote, they had decided to obey the edict, since if any explosions did occur in the ghetto, the African Nationalists would be saddled with the blame. At noon, the council had driven off to Baltimore in a convoy of private cars. Behind them they left a padlocked office and a Doberman pinscher to protect their records and arsenal.
Workers at the Pentagon began to leave by 1 P.M. Only absolutely essential personnel remained to direct the military affairs of the country. In huge underground working areas, men and women kept their hands on the pulse of the strategic and tactical units around the world.
Cabinet officials had quietly told their families to seek safety elsewhere. Martin Manson’s wife flew off to Miami; her husband told her she might as well take the excuse of the evacuation to have a vacation at the same time. Sam Riordan called his wife in Georgetown and suggested she visit the family estate in upper New York.
National Airport and Dulles witnessed the departure of an increasing number of important people. Mary Devereaux passed through at 1:15 P.M. Bob Randall had met her at lunch and given her the money for a week in Acapulco. When he told her he would join her in a few days, she went away happily.
Randall went on to his home briefly, packed two suitcases, and took them with him to the White House.
On Embassy Row, the order to leave the city had caused no great alarm. But in almost every beautiful mansion, skeleton staffs remained in residence to oversee the affairs of their respective governments. Stark knew this would happen and did not make a fuss over it. Aware that some people would always manage to stay behind in the forced departure, he was satisfied that most residents would be gone if the Russians carried out their threat.
In the Pentagon, General Stephen Austin Roarke sat in conference with the acting Secretary of Defense, John Dunham. Roarke was much more comfortable with the new man than his predecessor, Erskine. Dunham never had cause to argue directly with the head of the Joint Chiefs and did not share Erskine’s jaundiced view of the military. He was convinced the American people had been continually misinformed about their government’s activities in Asia and that the armed forces in particular had been held up to ridicule.
Roarke was a satisfied man on the eve of the ultimatum deadline. When Stark had given him the signal to prepare a mission from Incirclik, he had ceased his criticism of the Safcek operation. Now he merely awaited the order to launch the preventive strike at Tashkent.
“Dunham, when Stark says go, we’ll call the Reds’ bluff. How long has it been since we did that? It’s incredible how we’ve let them bamboozle us over the past twenty or thirty years. Remember in Korea when we gave the Chinese their privileged sanctuary across the Yalu? And everyone agreed that the next time we would go all out. Then came Vietnam and Laos, and the Commies had their privileged sanctuaries in Cambodia and on the Ho trail. It was utterly fantastic that we could get sucked in again. There was no way to win there with them coming down the trails and sneaking back and forth across the borders whenever they wanted. And, of course, when we did something about it, the army got blamed for the mess. We were inept, war-mongering, and finally just butchers of innocent people.
“And those goddamn liberals in this country, those myopic bastards refused again and again to see the menace for what it was. Jesus Christ, they forced us to cut back, strip our defenses, cut our research and development programs. I’d like to go on the air and tell those creeps that this whole business of the ultimatum came about strictly because of their blind stupidity, their absolute refusal to recognize that the Russkies and their friends intend to blow our brains out as soon as they get the chance. But if I did, they’d have me committed for being Dr. Strangelove. They’re incredible people, so goddamn self-righteous and humanitarian. They actually think the Reds have no aspirations for anybody else’s territory!”
Dunham agreed and added: “It’s the same right here on the homefront. The radicals, black and white, have been telling them straight out for years that they’re going to destroy the country, bring the war to the suburbs, and take everything. And they don’t believe it, just play the fool to these people who are fascists masquerading as defenders of morality. Nothing but fascists.”
Roarke sighed disgustedly and turned to some papers on his desk. “To hell with them. Any word from those Russians in Cuba who are supposed to come here after the ultimatum?”
“No, but I suspect they’ll be chiming in shortly with a little psychological muscle. The Soviet ships in the Atlantic are directly east of Montauk and heading for it at ten knots.”
“I know. I can’t wait to nail them too.”
Roarke looked hard at the acting secretary. “By two thirty Stark has to know if Safcek made it. After that he’s got to give the word to Incirclik. I’ll be waiting right here by the phone. With great pleasure, may I add.” He smiled at his newfound friend.
On the horizon to the right, a dull glow appeared, and Safcek remarked: “They’re busy tonight, that’s for sure. Must be floodlights all over the grounds.”
Checking the gauge he saw only one kilometer left to go. Slowing the car, he began searching for the culvert they had found in the afternoon. When he saw it, he pulled the automobile over and checked the road carefully in both directions. No lights marred the highway.
Safcek maneuvered the car down the slight slope and onto an even stretch of ground hidden from view. He shut off the engine and lights. In the darkness that engulfed them, the two agents heard only the rustle of the desert wind and an occasional insect. Safcek read his luminous watch: “Twelve thirty. We’ll have to hurry.
“Let’s go over this one last time. I’ll carry the bomb; you cover me with the automatic rifle. We’ll walk through the underbrush about one mile and aim for the gully. Watch out for the guards and the searchlights. Also don’t forget to keep the mines checked out. The detector should keep us out of trouble on that score.”
She listened carefully. “How long do we have to clear out before the bomb goes off?”
“It’ll be on automatic once I set it. Thirty minutes.”
“Ready?” he asked gently. She nodded, and they went back to the trunk, where Safcek handed Luba the automatic and a small hand-detector for mines. He strapped on a Walther PPK pistol and picked up the bomb container. “To hell with the satchel charges,” he muttered. “We’re running so late now that it will have to be the big bomb or nothing.” Then he closed the trunk lid and whispered: “You go first.”
In the bright moonlight, Luba picked a path down the slope and across a meadow running about five hundred yards toward the light in the northeast. Safcek carried the bomb case in his right hand and cautiously walked in her footsteps. She was picking her way very carefully, acutely aware of possible land mines. The moon kept hiding behind the clouds, and Safcek lost Luba twice in the sudden gloom. It was taking much longer than they had expected. She moved slowly, the rifle in her left hand, the detector sweeping back and forth in her right. At the top of the first rise, she stopped, and Safcek caught up to her. They looked down and saw the laser complex a mile distant, bathed in bright lights from six searchlights probing relentlessly over the perimeter, touching down in narrow swaths and crossing one another now and then in their constant vigils. Beyond the searchlights, the buildings were themselves almost darkened. The main structure, totally windowless, as Safcek had noted during the afternoon, loomed darkly above its neighbors.