Havana Harvest (45 page)

She had met his fight from Nassau in the evening, and he had taken her to dinner at Le Toqué. During the meal he'd brought her up-to-date on his activities in general terms and told her he was going to have to go away again soon. She had bristled.

“Why can't I go with you?”

“Because it's too dangerous.”

“But I want to be part of your life, like your wife had been. I don't want to be just a sort of bystander. I know I could help.”

“Easier said than done.”

Micheline had fared up. “Don't patronize me. Although I'm a woman I'm just as good as any man I know.”

“Come off it, Miche, you know I'm no male chauvinist. It's just that you're not trained for this sort of thing.”

Micheline would have none of it. “Nor was your wife,” she had said, feeling bitter. “Yet you made her part of your secret life!”

Deeply wounded by her remark Lonsdale had fought hard not to lose his temper. “And she got herself killed in the process,” he had shot back.

The old feeling of guilt was gnawing at him again. He saw the logic of Micheline's argument all right, but, under the circumstances, couldn't bring himself to tempt Providence once more by risking the life of someone he loved. Turning inward, he could not stop the feelings of self-pity and loathing, so deeply rooted in his soul, to surface, although he knew that this process of self-mortification would cause him to spiral into depression again.

Trying to ease his pain he had reached for her hand, but this had angered her even more because she realized she had hurt him much more than she'd intended.

“What's the matter,” she had demanded. “Are you still unable to forgive yourself for your past mistakes and be done with them?”

Her harsh words had hit home hard. He saw he would lose her again if he continued to feel sorry for himself, if he refused to dare. His problem was complex. He could not compromise the mission, he dared not put Micheline in harm's way, and he did not want her to leave him—all seemingly irreconcilable goals.

“I can't Miche, I can't,” he had whispered.

“Can't what?”

“Can't risk getting you hurt.”

“Making me leave you would be better?”

Next day, over breakfast he outlined a plan that absolutely delighted her. He proposed that she accompany him to Cuba for a week as the wife of a member of a Canadian government-sponsored trade mission.

Sunday, December 4

Washington, DC

Discretely inserted into Lonsdale's Sunday
New York Times
was an unwelcome supplement, an extract from GRANMA, the Cuban Communist Party's official newspaper:

INFORMATION BULLETIN

“We find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to inform the public that Brigadier General Patricio Casas Rojo and Deputy Minister of the Interior Oscar De la Fuente y Bravo, both highly decorated revolutionaries who have, in the past, been given important responsibilities by the Party, the Revolutionary Armed Forces, and the Ministry of the Interior, have been arrested and are subject to investigation relating to serious acts of corruption and dishonest manipulation of economic resources.

Whoever he may be and whatever his previous merits may have been, the Party, the Revolutionary Armed Forces, and the Ministry of the Interior will not, in any way, grant impunity to any person who, deviating from the principles of the Revolution, gravely violates socialist morality and laws.

In accordance with the norms governing the conduct of members of the Revolutionary Armed Forces and of the Ministry of the Interior, Brigadier General Patricio Casas and Deputy Minister Oscar De la Fuente are to appear before a Tribunal of Honor, composed of officers equivalent in rank to theirs, which will then recommend the subsequent legal and other measures to be taken in view of the improprieties committed by them.

The recommendations of such a Tribunal of Honor and the reasons for such recommendations will be communicated to the general public at the opportune time.”

Ministry of the Revolutionary Armed Forces
.

Ministry of the Interior of the Socialist Republic of Cuba.

Lonsdale was relieved that the article did not mention Spiegel.

Monday, December 5

Palm Beach and Miami, Florida

Lonsdale folded the copy of the GRANMA article into thirds and stuck it into his pocket. “I figure we have four weeks left. We must be ready to snatch our people at a moment's notice any time after the trial begins.”

“You don't think they'll put on a show trial during the Christmas holidays?” Gal was still trying to recover from the shock of being involved in such a high-profle operation. Lonsdale had only told him about the true purpose of their mission the previous evening.

“Unlikely. They will want the world to focus on the trial and nobody focuses on anything during the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. Since they need at least three weeks for trial preparation and for whipping up a feeding frenzy among the world's paparazzi, I doubt very much that they will start anything before January.”

“How is your end coming?”

“The
Barbara
is chartered, the helicopter is bought. I've hired two pilots and got hold of three communications experts who are familiar with satellite imaging. Ramirez has bought the Galils and has had four delivered to Nassau. I have smuggled these into Cuba with the ammo we may need. The rest can go in the false bottoms of the two specially equipped Toyotas, which we're sending to Havana disguised as taxis.”

“What do you mean by specially equipped?”

“The radios of all three vehicles have been altered to give them two-way communications capability. Satellite imaging equipment can also be attached to them as can GPS.”

Lonsdale was rather proud of his achievements. With Morton's secret assistance he had been able to garner state-of-the-art equipment and top talent to operate it.

“How do you propose to smuggle all that equipment into Cuba?”

“The GPS and satellite stuff are going in via diplomatic pouch, disguised as radios and small TV sets, which, in a way, they are. The stun and smoke grenades will be packed into the false bottoms of the taxis.”

“How about sidearms, flak jackets, gas masks, and clothing?”

“They'll go into the false bottom of the command van, which we're shipping to Havana disguised as a maintenance truck for the taxi company.”

“Does the taxi company know this?”

“No, but one of the clerks working for it does.”

Gal was impressed. “How the hell did you manage that?”

Lonsdale shook his head in disbelief as he recalled the incident. “When I few down to see you the first time, I sat beside a weeping, deeply distraught woman who turned out to be Cuban. I asked her if I could get her something and she blurted out that what she wanted was her twenty-two-year-old son, trapped in Havana due to an administrative misunderstanding. He was working for the Havana Cab Company as their purchasing supervisor and dying to leave the country. I sent some people I know in Cuba to talk with him and, in return for a special trip to Florida—”

“Via cigarette boat, I presume,” Gal cut in.

“Via Cigarette Boat,” Lonsdale confirmed. “He agreed to help me.”

Lonsdale did not consider it necessary to enlighten Gal about the arrangements having been made through Agency assets operating in Cuba.

Gal stood up, stretched, and then walked over to where Lonsdale was sitting. “When are you shipping the taxis and the van?”

“They'll be in Havana, or Matanzas, the port near Varadero, by Christmas.”

“You're that sure nothing will need to get done before then?”

“I'm not sure of anything. I'm making educated guesses and hoping they're the right ones.” Lonsdale got up to face Gal. “It's your turn now. How is the training program going?”

“Pretty well. As you know I've got two Mossadniks as squad leaders, and they brought in three other Israelis. I also engaged six Cubans whom some friends found for me here in Florida. With you and me that makes thirteen.”

“My lucky number.” Lonsdale was pleased: thirteen was indeed his lucky number. He looked at Gal expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Three more people, drivers, are reporting for training on Thursday, so by Friday we'll have a total contingent of fifteen.”

“Let's see.” Lonsdale began to count. “Three people per vehicle, that's nine, plus two ambulance guys—”

“What ambulance, what guys?”

Lonsdale laughed. “I know, I know. I never had the chance to tell you. I came back from Cuba full of new ideas.”

Gal was nonplussed. “You've been to Cuba since you last visited me?”

“Just a quickie, in and out, but enough time to have a preliminary look at the presumed target area and to conclude that an ambulance and two jeeps might come in handy.”

“Jesus, Bernard. You're scaring me.” Gal was not happy. “You're telling me three things: we need more men, we need two more vehicles, and third,” he gave Lonsdale a piercing look “we're likely to take serious casualties.”

Lonsdale shook his head. “No to the first two of your assumptions. The ambulance is window dressing, and the personnel and the jeeps will be provided by the locals.”

“Cubans?”

“Yes, but if you don't mind I'd rather not give you the details yet.”

Gal raised his eyebrows, but let it go. “The men are being trained at a range in Georgia, which the Association of Security Consultants maintains for that purpose. The training is general and consists of hostage taking, hostage rescue, defensive and offensive driving, small arms drill, sharp-shooting, explosives handling and physical fitness courses.”

“Are you training them with Galils?”

“Affirmative.”

“When will they be ready?”

“In less than three weeks. By Christmas for sure.”

“Good. Have the best nine, including you, your two Israeli squad leaders, and six Cubans ready for gradual insertion during the Christmas–New Year period. That'll give us a few days to familiarize the team with the extraction site.”

“What about the rest of them?”

“We'll need them for the diversionary attack.”

“Who will lead them and when do they get inserted?”

“I'm still working out the details, but will have a plan for you the next time we meet.”

Gal headed for the door. “And when will that be?”

“I'll call you early next week. In the meantime, get fit.”

“Look who's talking,” grumbled Gal as he ushered his guest out of the room. He noted with concern that Lonsdale had not addressed his assumption about taking heavy casualties.

Two hours later Lonsdale was at the Churrasceria Argentina Restaurant in Coral Gables. He had a luncheon appointment with José Basulto, the founder of Hermanos al Rescate—Brothers to the Rescue.

Basulto, a courtly man in his late fifties with black hair that was graying at the temples, had founded Brothers to the Rescue in 1991, at the height of the refugee flow from Cuba when thousands risked their lives in sailboats, rowboats, and makeshift rafts to reach the safety of the Florida Coast and freedom from oppression. During their most successful period of activity the Brothers operated six aircraft, which patrolled the Florida straits from dawn to dusk, locating foundering refugee embarkations and radioing their position to the U.S. Coast Guard that would then dispatch a vessel to assist them.