A small trace of bitterness crept into his voice. “But there is so much more, so much more that Cuba has to offer to America.
There must be cooperation, you see. Not only for our survival, but for America’s as well.”
“And that’s why I decided to come with you,” Pamela said decisively.
“To show the American people both sides of the picture. You claim there’s a difference between your objectives and Leyta’s. Fine, well show it to me. Show me why America should be a friend to Cuba instead of a suspicious neighbor. Show me how much we have in common, where our true future lies. If you can show me, I can show the rest of the world.” She leaned forward, stared past him out the window. “That’s why I came.”
“I know.” He resisted the impulse to reach out and trace his fingers up her thigh, groaned inwardly as he imagined how it would feel to reach the top of the delicate hose. But that’s not why I have you with me.
“From here we will go by seaplane, then by small boat,” he continued, regretfully suppressing the ripple of lust she always caused. “And something else as well despite our differences, Leyta and I cooperate on a number of issues.
His people will be guiding your tour. I believe he may himself be in Cuba at this very moment.”
“Leyta? But why?”
Aguillar shrugged. “You’ve seen most of what I do. I work through existing organizations and channels in Washington. Leyta has other connections.” He frowned for a moment, remembering that his public adversary had even gambled his own brother’s life on an overt mission gambled and lost. “While I disapprove completely of his methods, unfortunately he is the better equipped to show you our homeland. He will be rendezvousing with us off the coast of Cuba. I think you will find his planned tour itinerary most enlightening.”
More interesting than you planned on, my sweet American bitch. If you knew how we are using you, my chances would disappear entirely.
“So this is it?” the President asked. “He gestured at the battle plan drawn on the chalkboard. “Why the Arsenal ship?”
“It’s time for an operational task, Mr. President,” the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said calmly. “With the rash of accidents we’ve had on board Jefferson, I’m afraid …” He let his voice trail off delicately.
Vice Admiral Thomas Magruder snorted. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Jefferson and her battle group,” he snapped. “Mr. President, with all due respect to the chairman, that ship is as ready as she’s ever been. She was ready when my nephew Tombstone commanded her, and she’s ready now.” He leaned forward and jabbed angrily in the air with a forefinger. “If you want a strike on Cuba, Jefferson is the best bet. Using anything else is a mistake.”
“The question of assets has already been decided,” the chairman said shortly. He turned to the President and added smoothly, “Subject to your approval, of course, sir.”
The President leaned back in his chair and looked puzzled. “Aircraft carriers have always been the primary platform for force projection,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure why we should deviate now.”
“The Arsenal ship can do the same job at a fraction of the risk,” the chairman pointed out. “Totally independent, capable of putting massive amounts of ordnance onshore smart weapons, Mr. President, specifically tailored to reach each target we want, without any collateral damage.
Without any collateral damage. More importantly, every step of the battle can be controlled personally by you. The ability to order the attack while you’re still talking to the Cubans on the telephone gives you a superb bargaining position.”
The President glanced up at him sharply. “You’re going to guarantee that?” He shook his head. “Impossible. There’s always collateral damage.”
“And how much did you see during Desert Storm and Desert Shield?” the chairman asked politely. “There were stories, allegations but you have to admit, the smart weapons performed superbly. The weapons on the Arsenal ship are a generation beyond that. We have a target impact area of no greater than one meter, Mr. President. Less than thirty-six inches, and from a range of over eighty miles away. There’s not an aircraft on that carrier that can match that kind of targeting precision. And there’s one other factor,” he continued. “Something that will make it the ultimate political war weapon.”
“The targeting?” The President frowned. “I don’t know that it’s such a good idea.”
The chairman stepped forward until he was standing three feet away from the President. “The entire Arsenal ship is capable of being remotely targeted. Mr. President, based on your experiences on the land, you know how critical unity of command and avoiding blue-on-blue engagements is.
One screw up between the aircraft and we take out a friendly land force.
But with the Arsenal ship, all movements can be controlled directly from here, from this very room if you wish. You will truly be the first commander in chief able to act immediately in response to changing battlefield conditions, making sure the war is fought exactly as you wanted it. Even the most advanced communications suite in the world can’t give you that.” He pointed at Admiral Magruder, who now stared down at the floor in disgust.
“The admiral can’t promise you that, not with flights of Tomcats and Hornets filling up the sky and getting in each other’s way.”
The President looked over at Admiral Magruder. “Well?
What about it? My predecessor seemed to trust you. You and I don’t know each other that well yet. Let me hear what you think.”
“I think it’s a big mistake, maybe the biggest one you’ll make during this term,” Vice Admiral Magruder said bluntly. He stood and walked briskly to the front of the room. “Targeting decisions belong in the military arena, Mr. President. No disrespect intended, but you simply do not have the time to develop the in-depth targeting and weaponeering capabilities here that that battle group commander already has. Has, and practices regularly.” Vice Admiral Magruder shook his head. “You get into micromanagement from the White House or even from the Joint Chiefs of Staff and you put lives at risk. Conditions change too quickly, and the battlefront is too fluid to allow that. You must remember that.” The admiral’s voice took on an urgent quality.
“That’s exactly the point that you always miss. Admiral,” the chairman said angrily. “We can bring that technology to the President’s office.
He can make every decision, just as though he were on the scene. And, more importantly, he can make this conflict what it truly is a political statement. An extension of his foreign policy, a demonstration of his individual will. How do you think that will affect the Cubans, knowing that the man on the other end of the hot line has his finger poised exactly over the fire control circuits?”
“They’ll think he’s a fool,” Vice Admiral Magruder said quietly.
“Because even the Cubans remember Vietnam.” He turned back to the President. “As do you, sir. You were there. You know what happens when Washington makes individual targeting decisions on a daily basis.
How could you forget?”
The President nodded slowly, then frowned. “We spent an awful lot of money on the Arsenal concept, though. And what the chairman says is true war is an extension of political objectives. Although sometimes I think it’s the other way around politics is a continuation of war by other means.” He looked back and forth between the two men. “Install the equipment. General.” He raised one hand to forestall Magruder’s protest. “I’m not saying we’ll use it.