Pliyev continued. "I can read your mind, major. Yes, I thought it was wonderful that Castro was going to tweak Uncle Sam's beard and so did the Kremlin, although after the fact. But giving that bearded idiot Castro control of tactical nuclear missiles, no matter how small they are in comparison to strategic missiles, is creating a problem that is almost beyond comprehension."
"Are the Cubans declaring war on us as well?" Sokolov asked.
"Hardly. Even though we are fewer in numbers, we have enough men and firepower to demolish them. Don't forget that, while they may have stolen four of our nuclear rockets, we still have many more and they know we would not hesitate to use them on them. No, this is an attempt to embarrass us and let us know that Fidel Castro and his pigsty island of Cuba are still important." He laughed harshly. "At least they think they are important."
Pliyev shuddered. "The absolute last thing we want is this mess to escalate again to another nuclear confrontation with America. We had enough of that two months ago." He took Sokolov by the arm and steered him towards the fence, away from General Dankevich, the dead Russian soldiers, and the several curious men who stood around. "Walk with me. Too many are trying to hear what I am saying."
A moment later, Pliyev gestured and they halted. "Do you have civilian clothes and can you pack quickly?"
"Of course," Sokolov said, "but why?"
"And I assume you are prudent enough to have some alternate identification and, preferably, a diplomatic passport in someone else's name?"
Sokolov flushed and answered weakly. "Yes."
"Because I want you to get the hell out of here and on a plane to Mexico City along with some of the American wounded who are being sent out of Cuba. From Mexico you are to go to Washington and contact your CIA friend Fullmer — his real name is Kraeger, by the way — and give him the information about the missing nukes. You will also try to convince him and his government that we will do everything in our power, everything, and that includes killing Cubans, to get those damned missiles back."
Sokolov was almost too stunned to speak and his knees felt like they could no longer carry his weight. How long had Pliyev known that he'd leaked the information to Fullmer, or Kraeger if that was his real name? His knees wobbled and he thought he'd stumble. Or maybe he'd piss himself just like that fool of a sergeant.
The general laughed harshly. "You are a terrible liar and an even worse spy, major. It served me to have you warn them, but not in time to change things. Tell me, do you have family back in Russia?"
Sokolov could barely speak. "No, Comrade General. My father was killed in the Great Patriotic War fighting the Hitlerites at Stalingrad, and my mother simply disappeared during the fighting. I was raised in a state orphanage."
"Good. Then no one will miss you, not even me. I am not fond of people who go behind my back even though it is useful sometimes. The Americans will give you a new identity and a new life, which is better than what the GRU or KGB would do if they got their hands on you. Maybe the Americans will let you start a little grocery store or even teach Russian to their spies? It doesn't matter. What you think you know of our deepest secrets is next to nothing. If you pack now and drive quickly, you will probably pass the KGB and our beloved political officer, Major General Petrenko, on the road heading here. It will likely be a number of hours before they finish investigating and interrogating that cretinous sergeant before they and I realize you are missing and, therefore, someone who should be questioned thoroughly about this and other things. One more thing, send Captain Dragan in to see me and no, I am not going to have him kill you, at least not right away. Now get the hell out of my sight."
While the military minds planned war against Cuba, President Kennedy received information from the political and diplomatic fronts, and none of it was very good.
First, the United Nations had done what it does best, which is nothing. An American Security Council resolution condemning Cuba's aggression and demanding the return of Guantanamo was vetoed by Russia and China, with France abstaining. It looked like a number of nations were enjoying America's pain and discomfort.
Another resolution, this one by Russia and condemning obvious American plans to attack Cuba, was vetoed by the United States and Great Britain. Again, France abstained. JFK wondered just what the hell that arrogant and imperious pain in the ass, Charles de Gaulle, was thinking of. Making France a permanent member of the Security Council with right of veto had been a foolish thing. The UN’s structure had been formulated at the end of World War II and now others had to live with it.
The United Nations General Assembly had debated furiously, with many smaller and newly formed countries applauding Cuba's throwing off the final vestiges of colonial chains. In the end, a resolution calling for a peaceful resolution to the problem was passed almost unanimously. Kennedy seethed when he read it. Apparently the UN thought theft and mass murder were negotiable. The motion said nothing and meant nothing.
Domestically, his political opponents were having a field day. Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater, a conservative Republican and a possible opponent in the coming 1964 presidential election was raging that the United States was taking far too long to respond to the insult and the casualties to her servicemen. He and others in both parties wondered just when the president was going to go to congress and ask for a declaration of war against Communist Cuba.
A knock on the door and he was told that Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynnin had arrived. Kennedy greeted the Communist and bade him sit. To his surprise, Dobrynnin declined and suggested they go for a walk. Did the Russian suspect that conversations in the Oval Office were being recorded? They were, of course. Too bad he hadn't thought to carry a wire under his suit.
Dobrynnin was only a couple of years senior to Kennedy but looked much older. Like most of his countrymen, he was dour and rarely smiled and his suits looked like they had never been tailored or pressed. Communism must do that to a man, Kennedy thought. Even the women went out of their way to appear plain and frumpy. He and Bobby liked to joke that they'd never seen a truly happy communist.
They went outside. It was a cold, damp day which meant the meeting would not be overlong. Kennedy flashed his winning smile. "May I wonder if the Cuban attack was as big a surprise to you as it was to us?"
Dobrynnin smiled wanly. "You can wonder all you want and I would never confirm or deny that anything would surprise us."
"Then what happened to the agreement we had?" Kennedy inquired with a hint of anger in his voice. "Or are your agreements worthless?"
"Our word is our bond," the Russian said stiffly, conveniently forgetting that the Soviet Union had torn up many agreements in the past if it suited their purposes. "Apparently, however, our fraternal socialist comrades in Havana felt that we had insulted them by not giving them a greater role in planning the agreement. They feel we dishonored them."
"I don't understand. According to the terms of that agreement, we promised never to attack Cuba."
Dobrynnin laughed. "After the Bay of Pigs and other attempts to oust Castro, do you really think they'd believe you? No, Castro wants a formal treaty between the United States and Cuba regarding Cuban ownership of Guantanamo. This will not only give Castro the base in perpetuity, which the Cuban people feel is theirs in the first place, but also make him a hero in the eyes of many Latin and Central American nations. It will also give him the opportunity to export his revolution, which is quite important to him. I'm sure you're aware that Che Guevara will be on his way to Bolivia to stir up trouble when this is all over."