Reality: The United States could have smashed Cuba into a glowing ember, had it wished. Illusion: The United States was a force for stability in the region. Result: Smaller nations would flock to America’s side, providing training opportunities and much-needed votes on the main floor and, she had to admit, a bigger drain on the State Department as they demanded money and technical assistance as their just due.
No matter. In the long run, it was better for those nations to be allied with the United States than to be open to foreign influences such as Libya. She sighed, and wondered if this entire scenario could have been averted had the first Cuban Missile Crisis been handled appropriately. What would it have taken to tempt Castro away from the Soviet yoke?
Money? Would that alone have been enough? She doubted it, and there was no point in second-guessing President Kennedy at this point. What mattered was that Cuba was once again a nuclear-free part of the United States’ backyard.
She took a deep breath and began her address. “My fellow ambassadors, I know you will join with me in expressing deep remorse over the industrial accident that occurred in western Cuba just this morning.”
She turned a sympathetic gaze on the Cuban ambassador. “Sir, my staff tells me that you have recently discovered a large coal deposit on the westernmost dp of your island.” She noted with pleasure the puzzled expression on his face. “What a tragedy, to have such a massive cave-in so soon after you began exploiting those resources. Perhaps, if the offer would not be taken amiss, I could suggest that we render some technical assistance and support to your nation? If it would be acceptable or desired, of course.” Ball in your court, she thought, watching the range of emotions flit across his face. Will you reject the offer here, in front of so many others who have taken advantage of our generosity? I suspect that you have the authority to do absolutely nothing, and will initiate the appropriate stalling measures until you can confer with your grand supreme leader. For just a moment, she wished that the Cuban president had been visiting the naval base when the American firepower had rained down on it. How much easier it would have been for everyone had he simply ceased to be alive.
But no, those consequences would have been unacceptable as well.
Assassination was not a part of American foreign policy, as evidenced by the Coalition restraint during Desert Storm and Desert Shield. In earlier centuries, nations such as Cuba and, of course, those of the Middle East had found assassination to be the quickest way to clarify difficult questions of sovereignty and succession.
But in the modern world, even the collateral damage of killing a nation’s leader while pursuing a valid military objective would have been looked at askance by the world community.
“Of course, I will have to ascertain the status of the rescue operations before replying,” the Cuban ambassador managed finally.
“Your gracious offer will not be forgotten.”
She glared back. “See that it’s not. It remains available, since you have need of it.” She turned back to the chairman.
“And now, on to other business. I understand that the representative of the Bahamas is having a birthday today.
May I be the first to extend my congratulations?”
And so the business of international diplomacy churned on, a tangled web of personal relations, illusions, and political power. As she watched the nations struggle through the morass of conflicting loyalties and orders, she marveled that the august body, conceived with such good intentions, could ever accomplish anything.
Pamela Drake stormed past the secretary and barged into Admiral Loggins’s office. She was pale, still drained looking, although a quick shower and change of clothes at her hotel in Crystal City had washed away most of the dirt and grime from her Cuban adventure.
“What the hell were you doing? What were you thinking?” she raged, pounding her fist on his desk. “How dare you criticize Senator Williams after all he’s done for the military!”
Keith Loggins leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers in front of him, and realized that he’d just arrived at another point of no return. For the past day, he’d been daydreaming about his next meeting with Pamela, fantasizing about how masterfully he would ask her to marry him, imagining her ecstatic and eager response. It would have been, he was certain, a marriage made in heaven. With the right planning and dreaming, they could have metamorphosed into the most powerful couple in Washington outside the White House. Her connections, her inside knowledge of the political process, and his background in the military would have well, no matter. He studied her carefully, seeing the anger boiling close to the surface.
“I see you’ve heard about Senator Williams’s indictment,” he said neutrally. He pointed to a chair. “I think you’ll have to talk to Senator Dailey if you want any details.”
“I did.” Her rage seemed to seep away, and she collapsed into the chair he’d offered. “His staff said that you were responsible for providing most of the information leading to the indictment, and that you were present when he was taken into custody. Oh, Keith, how could you? Do you know what that man has meant to my career?”
He shook his head. “Do you know what he almost did to mine?”
She leaned forward. “Tell me. Let’s see if we can salvage anything out of this situation.”
He took a deep breath. He started to explain about duty, about a higher cause, and about the service that a man or a woman offers to the nation while in the military. He saw her eyes glaze over and a sour expression cross her face.
“I’ve heard this speech before, Keith,” she interrupted.
“You’re starting to sound like Tombstone, you know. He was always on about that sort of stuff as well. I thought you had more sense.”
“I do. Enough sense to know that what Williams wanted for this country was bad. Political power is one thing, Pamela. That belongs to the politicians, the men and women who are elected to represent the people of this country, not to a military officer. We exist to serve, not to rule. What Williams wanted was to transform the Pentagon into a uniformed version of the Senate.” He shook his head ruefully. “And I almost fell for it, too. Luckily, at the last minute, I came to my senses.” He looked up, pinned her to the chair with a stern glance.
“I have no regrets about what I did, Pamela. Quite the contrary. If there’s any way I can make up for what seems to me now to have been bad judgment, I will. And, if the Navy thinks that includes retiring, that’s what I’ll do.” For a moment, his voice took on a more hopeful note. “Pamela, I thought that if I was no longer in the service, that we might be able to” It was her turn to look grim and shake her head.
“Keith, I thought you understood how the world worked. I’ve already been in one relationship with an idealistic Navy officer. I don’t need another.” She stood, offered him a hand.
“Call me if you come back to your senses.” He took her hand, feeling the smooth skin, noticing the broken nails and grime still embedded beneath her fingertips. What a woman that she would dare the trip to Cuba, stand in the middle of bombs to get her story. In so many ways, they were so much alike.
But there was one critical difference between them.
Regretfully, he realized that that quality was honor. He shook her hand, resisting the impulse to pull her close, then showed her to the door.
He sat down at his desk again and glared at the seemingly endless pile of paperwork crowding his in basket, reflecting that virtue was sometimes its own reward. And no more than that.