"Won't the reporter wonder when Franklyn doesn't get back to him," Elena asked.
"Franklyn's no dummy," Jock answered. "Nickel says he tells the reporter that he was wrong, there was no story."
"I got another nickel that says he puts in for retirement tomorrow," Charley added.
Soriano stood and stretched. "I'm out of here. It's late and I'm getting old."
With the big man gone, Charley was concerned for Elena. What she had done with them was totally new for her and maybe disturbing.
"You didn't have to go with us, you know," he said gently.
She smiled warmly at his concern. "Yes I did. All my career I've sat behind a desk while others have put their lives on the line. I don't mean that muscling this Franklyn cretin was in anyway dangerous, but it did give me an appreciation of what the other half does for a living. I hate to admit it, but the whole thing was an adventure. Maybe even thrilling."
"I guess I'm glad. Does that mean you don't think I'm a thug?"
"Charley, I've never thought you were a thug. Soriano, now, may be another story."
"Don't sell him short," Charley said.
"Wouldn't think of it." She stood and looked thoughtfully at him. "Wait here," she said and walked into her bedroom. He'd been to her house for dinner a couple of times, but had never been invited into the inner sanctum.
A few moments later, she emerged from the room, wearing a long white robe that even covered her feet, which, when she moved, he could see were bare. Her hair was down and he thought she was indescribably and breathtakingly lovely.
"It was a very interesting evening, Charley, exhilarating and even exciting."
She undid the robe and let it drop. She was naked. Charley could hardly breathe. If he'd thought she was lovely moments before, he was obviously mistaken. She was a tan goddess.
She let him stare for a moment, then smiled and held out her hand, pulling him to his feet and leading him to her bedroom. "Charley my dear, I am not an innocent little waif and neither are you. Now get in here before I change my mind."
"Comrade Che, it is so good to see you," Ortega said. He tried hard to keep the sarcasm from his voice and hide his dismay at having Guevara in his headquarters.
"And I am pleased to see you as well," Guevara said with equal insincerity as he sat down. "It's been a long trip, but a safe one. The damned American planes didn't find us."
"Us?"
"My little convoy. We traveled scattered and only at night. We had some reasonably close calls, but nothing serious. The American bombers are getting so numerous and so dangerous it's a wonder that any travel succeeds. This state of affairs has to end before it destroys Cuba and the revolution."
A shame, Ortega thought as he leaned back in his chair. "The Americans are more than dangerous. My forces have suffered badly and the fighting hasn't really begun. We have no choice but to sit and take it until the Americans land and we can close with them and kill them."
"Which brings up a point," Guevara said. "Fidel wonders why you aren't using the SAM missiles and other anti-aircraft weapons you have."
Ortega sighed. "Because we used up almost half our weapons inventory when taking Guantanamo and in the immediate aftermath when the Americans launched their attacks. Unfortunately, too many of our commanders had little in the way of fire discipline and simply shot off everything they had at anything that flew, and caring nothing about actually hitting a target. American pilots quickly learned that they can outmaneuver our SAM missiles and no American B52 heavy bombers, which would have been juicy targets, were involved during the takeover of Guantanamo. Thus, I have ordered that no SAM missiles or other weapons be used until the Americans actually begin landing and we actually have viable targets."
"In the meantime, however, our brave troops sit and take it," Che said angrily.
"With regrets, Comrade Che, yes. Sadly, we have already lost far more men than we did during the battle for Guantanamo, and yes, many of our men are dispirited and their morale is low. Unless you and Comrade Fidel can conjure up an air force to fight the Yankees, we have no other choice but to sit and take it."
Guevara smiled ruthlessly. "Perhaps I can provide you with a choice."
Jesu, Ortega thought, here it comes. Just what my cousin had predicted. "What do you mean?"
"Comrade General, I have brought with me a weapon that will change the course of the war and bring us not only victory over the Americans but will give us the stature Cuba deserves in the eyes of the world. The weapon will make us pre-eminent among our sister nations and will enable us to export our revolution."
Ortega decided to pretend ignorance. "My dear comrade, what do you mean?" he said, repeating himself.
Guevara leaned forward conspiratorially. "I have brought you a nuclear missile, a Soviet Luna 3. We will launch it at the Americans when they land. It will shock and devastate them. Many thousands will be killed and wounded, perhaps tens of thousands."
Ortega shook his head. "Comrade, if we were so foolish as to do that, what do you think the American response would be? I believe they would launch many of their missiles at us and turn Cuba into a radioactive cinder."
Guevara shook his head. A beatific smile lit his face. "They won't. When part of their army is obliterated, we will tell the Americans that we have dozens more of these missiles and we will use them to destroy the rest of their army if it doesn’t surrender. We will, of course, wait until they land so they will be required to surrender to us in order to save their own lives."
"Do we really have that many rockets?"
"Of course not, but the Americans don't know that. Their intelligence is now aware that the Soviets brought in a large number of them, but they don't know where they are or who controls them. We will let the stupid Americans believe that we do. They are afraid of battle and will take the excuse to back out a conflict they think they cannot win."
"And why do you believe that, comrade?"
"Because John Fitzgerald Kennedy is a coward,” Che almost spat. “He didn't go to war against the Russians back in October and he has proven to be afraid to fight us now. He has dithered and sought compromise and so-called peaceful solutions while all the world mocks him. No, we will show some resistance, use the bomb to kill a few thousand Americans, and he will cry like a baby and pull his troops away. If Kennedy was serious, he would have attacked us a long time ago. Instead, his huge army sits and waits. It won't matter that the Luna is a small bomb, the attack will shatter him."
"How can you be certain of Kennedy's manhood, and that the Americans will believe we have more missiles?"
"Because the Russians have told me much about Kennedy’s manhood, as well as America’s fear of nuclear weapons. The fact of the missile and our declaration that we have more will come as a complete shock to the Americans. And there has been no mention of Cuban nuclear missiles in the American press. Even if they suspect that we have them they are afraid to tell their people who would flee their cities in bloody panic."
Ortega trembled in disbelief. "So you would have me use it when the Americans land."
"Yes."
"Then tell me, comrade, just where will they land?"
"At Guantanamo," Guevara said with supreme confidence. “Re-conquering that base is their goal, general. When they storm ashore you will launch the missile and Cuba will be victorious. It may take a few days of additional skirmishing, but the Americans will go into a defensive shell and be afraid to move."
Ortega sat back. "And just why do you think they will land only at Guantanamo? Or haven't you noticed that we are an island surrounded by American ships and being overflown by American planes. The Yanquis can land anywhere and everywhere, and there is precious little we can do to stop it. Yes, your one rocket will damage them but it will not stop them and I for one do not think they will believe your fairy tale about inundating them with other missiles."