“I am not drunk! A bit tipsy, I will grant you that. But not drunk.” He swelled his chest and tried to look sober. “Those puppies, thinking they could drink an old dog like me under the table.” He snorted his derision. “‘We blow the fire out before we drink.’ Ha, ha, and ha!”
Rita was sooo mad! “Oh, you—”
“Excuse me.” Toad held up a finger. “Just a minute or two; and we will continue this discussion until you have said everything that needs to be said. There is undoubtedly a lot of it and I am sure it will take a while. Just one little minute.” He closed the bathroom door and retched into the commode. Then he swabbed his forehead with a wet washcloth.
He felt better. He stared at himself in the mirror.
You look like hell, you damned fool.
He took a long drink of water, swabbed his face with a towel, then opened the door, and said, “Okay, you were saying?”
She wasn’t there. The room was empty.
Even her bag was gone.
He lay down in the bed. Oh, that felt gooood. Maybe he should just lie here for a few minutes until she cooled off and he sobered up completely, then he would find her and apologize.
The room was whirling around, but when he rolled on his side it steadied out somewhat and he drifted right off.
Jake Grafton was alone at a table in the corner of the O Club dining room when Rita Moravia saw him and came over. He stood while she seated herself.
“You’re by yourself? Where’s Toad?”
“Sleeping it off. He was in the bar with your young studs and had four drinks. Four! He’s whacked.”
Jake Grafton chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve seen him drink more than an occasional beer or glass of wine with dinner in years.”
“He doesn’t,” she said. “Poor guy can’t handle it anymore.”
“Heck of an anniversary celebration,” Jake said, eyeing her.
“I’ve been lucky,” Rita said simply. “Toad Tarkington and I were made for each other. I don’t know how the powers that rule the universe figure out who marries whom, but I sure got lucky.”
“I know what you mean,” Jake said. Then he smiled, and Rita knew he was thinking of his wife, Callie. Jake Grafton always smiled when he thought of her.
“So, maybe you should join me for dinner,” Jake said, “since Toad is temporarily indisposed and Callie is temporarily not here.”
“I’ve already eaten, and tongues might wag, Admiral,” she said with mock seriousness.
“And probably will. Won’t do me or thee any good.”
“I’m not going to live my life to please pinheads,” Rita replied. “I’ll join you for a drink.”
After they gave their orders to the waiter, Jake said, “Tell me about the V-22. I’ve been wondering about that plane but haven’t had the chance to talk to you.”
Away Rita went, talking about airplanes and flying, two subjects they both enjoyed immensely. The breeze coming through the open doors of the dining room stirred the curtains and made the candles on the tables flicker in the evening twilight.
They were drinking after-dinner coffee when Rita remarked, “Toad says that you still haven’t heard from Washington about your next set of orders.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t want to talk about something you would rather not discuss, but he says they may ask you to retire:”
“They might. I’ve thrown my weight around a few times in the past and made some enemies, in uniform and out.” He shrugged. “Every flag officer gets passed over for a promotion at some point and asked to retire. My turn will come sooner or later. Maybe sooner.”
“Are you looking forward to retirement?”
“Haven’t thought about it that much,” he said. “To be honest, the prospect of spending more time with Callie has great appeal.” He rubbed his forehead then grinned ruefully. “It’ll hurt if they don’t find me another job, give me another star next year. Yet even a CNO gets told it’s time to go. When it happens to me, Callie and I will get on with the rest of our lives. The truth is, when I decided to stay in the navy after Vietnam I never expected to get this far: thought it’d be terrific if I made commander or captain. Here I am with two stars in charge of a carrier battle group.” He snorted derisively: “Guess it all goes to prove I’m an ungrateful bastard, huh?”
“It goes to prove you’re human.”
“You are very kind, Rita.”
“You’ve really enjoyed the navy, haven’t you?”
“Every tour has been a challenge, an adventure. Every set of orders I’ve had, I’ve thought, Oh, wow, this will be fun. I can’t say I’ve enjoyed every day of it, because I haven’t, but it’s been a good career. Like most people who have worn the uniform, I did the best I could wherever they needed me. I’ve worked with great people all along the way. I have no regrets.”
One of Jake’s aides came over to the table, smiled at Rita, then whispered in the admiral’s ear. “The ship that left here four days ago carrying biological warheads to Norfolk never arrived. It is overdue.”
“Civilization begins when the strong finally realize they have a duty to protect the weak. That duty is the foundation of civilization, the bedrock on which everything else rests.”
Hector Sedano stood in the pulpit and looked at the sea of sweating, glistening faces that packed the church to overflowing. He could feel the heat from their bodies. There must be close to two hundred people jammed in here.
Hector continued: “For centuries we, the people, have abdicated our duty to a few strong men. Rule us, we said, and do not steal too much. Do not be too corrupt, do not betray us too much, do not shame us beyond endurance. Protect the weak, the elderly, the helpless, the sick, the very young, protect them from those who would prey upon them. And protect us. If you grant us protection you may steal a little, enough to become filthy rich, as long as you do not rub our faces in it.
“We give unto you the strong one a great trust because the faith to face the evil in the world is not in us.
“O strong one, protect us because we lack the courage to protect ourselves.”
The crowd was rapt, wanting more.
Hector Sedano had given this very same speech more than a hundred times. Only the faces in the audience were different. He leaned forward, reached out as if to grab the people. They had to understand, to feel his passion, or Cuba would never change. Perspiration ran down his face, soaked his shirt.
“I say to you here tonight that our duty can be ignored no longer. The hands that made the universe are delivering our destiny into our very own human hands. We must seize the day when it comes. We must acknowledge before God and before each other that the future of this nation is ours to write, ours to invent, ours to live, and ours to answer for before the throne of heaven on Judgment Day.”
A thunderous applause shook the tiny church.
When it died, Hector continued, “I say to you that the future of our families is on our heads, that the fate of this people is our responsibility and our destiny.
“We shall drink every drop that God pours for us, be it sweet or bitter, be it thin or full, be it a tiny trickle or a great river. We shall not turn aside from that righteous cup.”
The applause swelled and swelled and filled the room to overflowing; it spilled through the open doors and windows and rushed bravely away to do battle with the silence and darkness of the night.
“We pulled it off,” Admiral Delgado told Alejo Vargas. “Nuestra Señora de Colón is stranded on a rocky reef near the entrance to Bahia de Nipe. Santana is ready and waiting.”