CUBA

A succession struggle ignited by the impending death of Fidel Castro is the catalyst for Stephen Coonts' latest suspense thriller, CUBA, in hardcover from St. Martin's Press.

As Havana heats up, the CIA learns that one of the presidential contenders, secret police chief Alejo Vargas, has developed biological weapons and installed them on half-dozen intermediate-range ballistic missiles delivered by the Soviets during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. Vargas' plan: foment a crisis with the U.S. and cow the Americans with biological weapons, thereby uniting the Cuban people behind his leadership.

Meanwhile, the hijacking of a freighter transporting chemical and biological warheads to the United States from the warehouses of Guantanamo Bay sets off alarms all over the hemisphere. While searching for the stolen warheads, Rear Admiral Jake Grafton is drawn into the growing Cuban crisis.

Jake Grafton, the hero of six other Stephen Coonts bestsellers, from FLIGHT ON THE INTRUDER to THE RED HORSEMAN, is one of the stars of CUBA, but only one. Tommy Carmellini, burglar and reluctant CIA agent, makes a dazzling debut, one that may well lead to starring roles in future tales.

As always, Coonts' tale is full of memorable characters, such as Hector Sedano, the priest who believes Cuba is on the verge of greatness; his sister-in-law Mercedes Sedano, a patriot who risks everything for her country; younger brother El Ocho, the fiery youth who will build a Cuban future; and Carlos Corrado, a drunken fighter pilot who finally finds something worth fighting for.

Full of red-hot action, high adventure, and enough suspense to fry nerve endings, CUBA was published in hardcover in August 1999 by St. Martin's Press in the United States and in September, 1999 by Orion Books in the United Kingdom.

The political earthquake just off America's shores that will be triggered by the death of Fidel Castro has intrigued me for years. Nine years ago I used Castro's demise as a two-chapter subplot in the novel UNDER SIEGE. Even as I wrote reporter Jack Yocke in the middle of the next Cuban revolution, I had a vague feeling that I was making a mistake using material that rich, with that much promise, as a subplot. Alas, I did it anyway. Cuba was buried deep in the gray matter, semi-forgotten, in 1998 when I attended a meeting with the powers-that-be at St. Martin's Press, my publisher, in New York City to brainstorm up a plot for another novel. When John Sargent, CEO of St. Martin's, suggested Cuba after Castro, the light bulb in my head illuminated.

"Yes," I said, "I can do that."

We talked about what the book might be for another few minutes, but I was sold. I didn't know exactly how I was going to write it, but I remembered how intrigued I had been by Jack Yocke and the next Cuban revolution.

I'll do Cuba again, I thought, and pray the fans don't come unglued. After all, every good story deserves to be told twice.

Noodling about the book, I quickly came to the conclusion that I wanted a different approach than I had used in UNDER SIEGE. The story had to be told from a much different viewpoint than that of a reporter for The Washington Post, i.e., Jack Yocke. On a trip to Little Havana in Miami, driving along Calle Ocho, or 8th Street, I realized the best way to tell the story would be through an extended family of Cubans who could be involved in the various facets of the 20th Century Cuban experience. A sign on a furniture store, "Sedano's" gave me the name of the family.

I was a couple chapters into the tale when I realized that the story needed Jake Grafton. This could not be just a thick Cuban family saga--the folks who read my books expect action-adventure; the best way I could give it to them in this story was through Jake Grafton.

Biological weapons came into the tale as a way to pull Jake Grafton into the orbit of the Sedanos. I immersed myself in books about Cuba, read a couple of biographies of Fidel, and asked my next-door neighbor, Ernie Pascal, to read chapters as I went along to help me capture the Latin flavor so essential to the setting.

Thrillers must contain thrills to succeed--the writer must give the fans their money's worth--as I cast about for a way to write a super climax, I remembered the V-22 Osprey that is under development to replace the Marine Corps' troop-assault helicopters. Then my wife Deborah returned from a tour of NAS Patuxent River to tell me that she had seen an Osprey, which was in flight test there. I began calling people, and a couple of weeks later Deborah and I had the rare privilege of flying the V-22 simulator. I was impressed: the airplane is a quantum leap in aviation technology, a marriage of computers and composite construction that will revolutionize military aviation. It is also going to have a similar impact on civilian aviation, I believe, replacing helicopters for many applications. Urban transport, search and rescue, medevac, oil rig transport, the tilt rotor seems the perfect machine to replace the hodge-podge of aircraft and choppers that fly these missions today.

With all the pieces in place, the story of Cuba seemed to pour out. Fortunately I have Deborah to help invent devious plot twists; on this tale she surpassed herself. As I was finishing the first draft, she thought up the final delicious twist at the end, which I immediately incorporated.

My editor at St. Martin's, Charlie Spicer, liked the first draft but felt Jake should somehow be drawn into the action sooner, so I rewrote several chapters to have the ship-full of biological weapons hijacked earlier in the story. With that change, the novel was put into the publication process.

All in all, I think CUBA turned out well--it is what we hoped it would be, a fast-paced action-adventure that will appeal to readers everywhere. I hope you like it.

Stephen
I have been reading your Jake Grafton novels in order and have just finished Cuba. I have really enjoyed the stories as I'm a naval aviation nut.  I didn't feel completely satisfaied with Cuba though. I felt there was some things missing - hardly a mention of Callie and Amy. Plus, no mention of Jack Yocke as I thought since he was in Cuba in a previous novel, that he would have some sort of role in Cuba - would you care to comment?
Geoff Brown February 17, 2008
 

Just a quick note of appreciation. I recently re-read Cuba, which I enjoyed so much I re-read Liberty. You are that rare combination of writer and storyteller, far better than Clancy. I look forward to your next Carmellini novel. Thanks!
Paul Ziegler March 8, 2007

Mr. Coonts,
Just finished reading your book "Cuba" and enjoyed it much. I visited Cuba at an agricultural expo a couple of years ago, and your observations were right on. We met Fidel, he was impressive. Obviously very intelligent and well read and looked in good health. Hard to understand how he can let his country wither in poverty when it could be THE vacation destination for the U.S. He's to blame as are the politicians who don't want to normalize with Cuba. Anyway, wanted to let you know I enjoyed the book. Just discovered you, and have read both Intruder books and Cuba. I'm a Cussler, Flynn, Baldachi fan, now you're on my list. Which of your book do you think is your best?
Lynn Ketelsen September 4, 2006
 

Mr. Coonts, Just a note to let you know how much I enjoyed your book CUBA. I had an opportunity to go to CUBA in 1999 with some people from my church. From my observations while I was there you hit-the-mark in your portraying the people and government. Then being a fan of Jake Grafton, it made the book that much more interesting. Thanks again!--Rob Ross

"I recently picked up your CUBA book at a yard sale. I must tell you I did it by mistake, I thought it was a Dean Koontz book. Anyway I read it and it turned out to be an awesome book. Up till now I only read Dean Koontz books. But that will change. I will be on the look out for your books when I go looking for yard sales from now on. GREAT BOOK! P.S.( I am not cheap, I would buy them new, but I'm currently unemployed pending disability.) Thank you and have a nice day!" -- C.G., March 21, 2004

"Mr. Coonts, I have an unusual request from you. After reading your novel CUBA my wife and I had a baby girl. (Dec. 27, 2000 ). My wife had named our first son and it was my turn to name our daughter. I named her Mercedes. In Cuba, Mercedes Sedano was such a strong willed woman, I wanted our daughter to have a strong name. What I am looking for is to purchase an autograph copy of this book, so that when Mercedes is older she can read it and know why I named her Mercedes. If you could do this I would appreciate this gesture." --John Jeffs November 27, 2003

"Dear Mr. Coonts, I wish to thank you for the pleasure I have got from reading your books over the last few months. I discovered CUBA in our book store and enjoyed it so much that I ordered all your other books from our local Library. I thought you would be interested to know that your excellent writing has a following as far away as New Zealand. I shall be keeping in touch with your web sight, to keep up to date with any new books as they come available." --Gary Boswell, June 6, 2001

"Mr. Coonts I just finished reading CUBA. I lived there until 1974 when I escaped on a raft with three other friends. We all made it. I was drafted and served in Cuba's armed forces for over three years. I
admired your book so well researched. I feel the end came too easy and quick. Unfortunately I feel the end will be much more bloody and difficult . Thanks for the good time reading it." --alegoria Nov 29, 2000

"Mr Coonts~ I just finished reading most of CUBA that I found laying in the wardroom lounge, before casting it over the side, nauseated. I'll say one thing, Pat Schroeder, Janet Reno, Coughlin, Patricia Ireland and Hillary would be very proud of you sir. The way you were able to so adroitly emasculate yourself and suck up to the feminists, and tail hook hypocrites was most impressive sir! You have absolutely proved yourself to be a good dutiful politically correct eunuch a la Clintonian era. There were many good men that were drummed out of the Navy in the past 10 years because of your vaunted female hypocrites and their lies, only to turn around and defend that bastard in the White House lockstep last year. Your glorifying all these bimbo hypocrites in your book was pathetic sir. I'm sure you are well positioned in the George Stephanopoulos, Ken Bacon Hall of fame with that one by now. In my 24 years in the service of the USN I have never seen someone kowtow to the hypocritical military feminist lobby in such a degrading manner. OK you may have won over many of the soccer moms and feminazis and Cabinet style alternate lifestyle women, but in doing so you have alienated so many of us war fighters (we all agree that this was PC pulp), that came to respect you in "The Flight of the Intruder." When I really see a female LTJG TAO I'll call you. I have yet to see even a male one (non-LDO) in my time in CDCs and CICs. And all that bunk about the "finest pilot in the V-22s" as that other overbearing female, please sir who are you really trying to impress beside the White House West Wing, the rainbow flag coalition, et al. Well Mr. there is going to be a whole different sheriff in the White House tomorrow, are you going to change your style to reflect that new wind that may blow the opposite direction? Probably not by now. That book was enough to make Jake blow his chow. Good day Mr. Coonts"
--J K Langlois, November 7, 2000

"Although I have read several of your novels and enjoyed them, I was sorely disappointed in your shallow dig to President Clinton ("Cuba")... a liar of Clintonian Proportions. Lets keep your personal digs out of your fiction. If I want to read that crap I can find all of it I want in the "New Republic" Magazine. Unless, of course, you might want to refer to the 58 million dollars the Republicans spent to find out about the cigar, as they ignored the wishes of the American People to spend our money on their partisan politics." --Capt. Ron Ackerman, October 9, 2000

"Dear Mr. Coonts: It was really good to meet you and hear you speak this evening at Bibelot Books in Timonium. It's something I've looked forward to for a long time, though I wasn't ever sure it was going to happen. I meant it when I said, "CUBA is the least homogenous book about Cuba that I've ever read." Your multi-faceted view of Castro, as an institution and as a human being, was perhaps your most keenly insightful view you've offered us. I'm sure it brought previously unvisited perspectives to many of your readers; I know it did to me. HONG KONG is next on my reading list and I'm really looking forward to it." --Jeff Vaughn, September 26, 2000

"Mr. Coonts, I just wanted to drop a line and tell you how much I enjoy your novels. I am a police officer in the suburbs of Chicago and work straight night shift. When things calm down in the early morning I always try to find a little out of the way spot and crack one of your books. I've just finished reading CUBA last night and thought it was outstanding! I've read each of your books at least twice and must confess I've read FLIGHT OF THE INTRUDER and INTRUDERS five times each. As I read those books I feel as if I'm right there in the A-6 with Grafton. I look forward to reading HONG KONG and wish you the best on future projects. You are a fine writer and I savor every chapter than I read. I've read hundreds of books and keep coming back to Jake, Toad and Rita time and time again. Thank-You for your writings and a chance to get out of my squad and into an A-6!" --Kevin Bretz, September 14, 2000

"Steve, I wrote you earlier this summer, after I finished CUBA; telling you how much I enjoyed it. Well, I just finished FLIGHT OF THE INTRUDER, and I loved it. These Grafton novels of yours are incredible! I was amazed to learn that my favorite author lives in the same city as I after reading
the inside of the back cover of FLIGHT OF THE INTRUDER. If you would like to help me with writing when school starts, That'd be great... Don't you think of quitting writing such great books, I'd be devastated! Thanks a lot." --Tom Hess, August 5, 2000

"Damn you, Coonts. Okay, now that I have your attention, I just wanted to commend you for the work done in CUBA. Damn you for writing such brilliant work. I couldn't put it down! With most novels, even the good ones, I take my time. An okay novel will get read in a month. A really good one gets read in a week. With CUBA? 36 hours. Tops. You're lucky they don't list your writing as a controlled substance! It's that addictive!" --Brad R. Torgersen June 27, 2000

"Dear Mr. Coonts: I have been a fan since my mother bought me UNDER SIEGE to read during a bout with bronchitis some years ago. I couldn't put it down, and went on to read the rest of your books. I have re-read them all many times, and they still excite and thrill me (I suppose it helps to have bad memory retention!). I have just bought CUBA, and saw the blurb about your website, and it is now bookmarked. 18 pages into the book, and I'm already riveted. Don't ever let Jake Grafton retire!!!" --Bert Wombacher June 2, 2000

"Mr. Coonts, I'd like to thank you for the excellent series of books you have authored. As a non-pilot but someone who has always been in love with flying since my earliest memories your books have taken me just about as close as I'm ever likely to come to military flying. I just picked up a copy of CUBA and would agree with one of the reviewers that one of the greatest strengths in your work is that characters are multi-faceted! It is why I prefer books with Stephen Coonts as the author over all others!" --William Croninger, May 14, 2000

"Steve, I just wanted to thank you for your fabulous books. Probably the best writing I've ever read was in FLIGHT OF THE INTRUDER, when Grafton met up with an F4 pilot who'd already bolted two or three times in the middle of the night, in the middle of a typhoon, and had only enough for one more try. I must've read that whole chapter a dozen times, because I could almost feel that stick jiggling against the heavy wind, the A6 bucking and struggling to keep the right heading, the incredible fear of the F4 pilot being calmed and relaxed a bit by Grafton. What a ride it was! And what a shame that the scene was left out of the movie! So, please keep up the good work, friend. I just picked up CUBA, and I'll
be ready for the next book by this weekend!" --Alex Crossan May 2, 2000

"Dear Stephen, Just a short e-mail to let you know how thoroughly I have enjoyed your books over the last 8 to 10 months, I can' t remember which one I read first but once I had read it. I tried to read as many of your books as possible, I have just taken CUBA out of the library, and I am looking forward to seeing what happens, I just hope you write more books over the coming years to keep me going because you are now one of my favorite writers along side Clancy, Terry Brookes and Tolkien. My name is Peter Ferguson and I am from Scotland. By the way can't wait until September to read HONG KONG." --Peter Ferguson April 13, 2000

"You did it again! I was crazy about FLIGHT OF THE INTRUDER, but was less enthralled by the Jake Grafton sequels. Not that I didn't enjoy them, but the situations just seemed a bit too contrived. But, you struck pay dirt with Cuba. I've just finished it and had to write to tell you that you really found the magic again with your latest entry into the Grafton series. The character development of all the new players, especially the Cubans, the pacing, the parallel stories all tying together as the big picture opened up are marvelous. I enjoyed Cuba more than any other book I've read in quite some time. Congratulations and thanks." --Philip M. Reed January 5, 2000

"Wow! I have always enjoyed ALL of your books, even while re-reading them. This book is a MASTERPIECE of writing. Tom Clancy could learn a few things from you. I only wish that I could have gotten an autographed copy of this one.........I'll probably read it again in a few months, it
was so well done." --Randy Donahue, November 22, 1999

"Mr. Coonts: I am a very busy lawyer, with cases all over the country, and travel too much. I find that with the stress of what I do (Plaintiff pharmaceutical products cases) my life seems a little better when I am involved in a book. I have read every word of every book you have written, and must tell you that the diversion that your writing supplies has become a vital part of my life. I used to be a heavy duty fan of Ludlum (got real boring and indistinguishable); Clancy (got too heavy and long winded); and still really enjoy Dale Brown, who I equate with your style. But, I really look forward to your next book, all the time. Cuba was fabulous. It showed a realistic and maybe too realistic scenario, and it held me from cover to cover. Please don't kill off Jake for a while. He will make a great Senator or Congressman one day, as the Chair of the Senate or House Committee on whatever. He'll also make a very cool SECDEF! I can not wait to see what you do next. It is great to see that there is life after law, for a recovering Lawyer, such as yourself." --Mike Hugo October 27, 1999

"Mr. Coonts; I purchased CUBA yesterday, read the first forty-five pages and will now decide if it is worth reading or if it belongs in the trash can. On page 45 you write, `...America was a fact of life, like shit.' It is regrettable that you would draw such a comparison since it was America that educated you and gave you an aircraft to toy with during your youth. The `like shit' was not only in very poor taste, but it was unnecessary. Where did our NAVY fail you?" --Merle L. Harbourt, August 30, 1999

"Just finished CUBA. Extraordinary book. Your best since FLIGHT OF THE INTRUDER". It goes without saying that I look forward to all of your novels and have them all in hardcover. Keep up the excellent work, although topping CUBA will be difficult. What a movie or miniseries that would make!!!! Thank you for sharing your gift with those of us who enjoy a good book."
--Jerlobie, Aug 29, 1999

"I picked up CUBA last week at the local Costco. I have all your books in hardback at this time. Very much enjoy your writing. I am a 57 year old detective working narcotics for the San Diego Police Department (33 years now). This afternoon my wife and went drove down to Harbor Island along San Diego Bay and I finished the book amid the jets and helicopters from North Island Naval Air Station and the commercial jets leaving Lindbergh Field. Kind of added a sense of realism during the air attack over Havana. Keep up the excellent work." --Ron King

"Steve, I just wanted to tell you what I thought of "CUBA".............WOW
I had the good fortune of obtaining an Advance Reading Copy and just finished it last night. Laughing, I actually fell asleep at my desk here a few minutes ago. I could say "Don't do that Steve" but then where would that leave us other than wide awake and no Stephen Coonts. One of your biggest fans," --David Nye, June 25, 1999

"Now that is amazing timing. I just finished reading CUBA, came in to check my e-mail thinking as I did that I should send an e-mail to Stephen Coonts congratulating him on another winner, and discovered the e-mail announcing CUBA. One of the great things about the Jake Grafton series is that each book is like a visit with old friends. A good story line, believable characters and plenty of excitement would be enough to make the books well worth reading, but seeing Jake, Toad and Rita in action again is a tremendous bonus. Each time I finish reading one of your books for the first time I wonder how you can top that one. Then a year or so later you tell a story that is at least as good as the last one. Well done, shipmate!" --Jack Jeffords, Aug 10, 1999

"Terrific book, Mr. Coonts. I bought it as soon as it hit the shelf. Jake Grafton just keeps getting better." --Markus Wolfe, Aug 10, 1999

"KEEP THEM COMING , I'VE BEEN READING THE JAKE GRAFTON STORY LINE FOR YEARS. MY BROTHER EVEN STARTED INTO YOUR BOOKS A FEW YEARS BACK; WENT AS FAR AS NAMING HIS DAUGHTER CALLIE, HE LIKED THE NAME SO MUCH. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK, HOPE TO SEE MORE OF IT."
--Neale Armstrong, Cayuga, Ontario, Canada, Aug 10, 1999

"I just finished "Cuba", and was pleased to see you had a website for those of us who are interested in your work. I have enjoyed the journey that you took me on, and wish to thank you for the hours of enjoyment that I have had thanks to your books. Reading for information has always been important to me, but I now look forward to reading for the adventure. Thanks to you and a few select authors
(Edward L. Beach, Tom Clancy, Dale Brown, etc.) I have found the true joy and fun of reading. I hope that the writing process is as much fun for you as reading your work is for me."
--Danny Will, August 14, 1999

"Once again, I find myself in awe at Steven Coonts' latest creation. I was introduced to Flight of the Intruder when my brother went off to College about six years ago. I found it on his bed. I opened it up that night, and didn't put it down until I finished it. I find myself camping out at the bookstore waiting for new books to come out. I bought CUBA about 45 minutes ago, and can't wait to get home to read it. Even while I am waiting for e-mail notification of new books, I find myself rereading the old ones, and still having the same awe and amazement as the first time I read them. Mr. Coonts, if you are reading this, again, let me congratulated you on an incredible book series. You have a talent unlike any author I have read. Congratulations on your latest book, and keep up the good work, because I can't wait to see what you come out with next!"

AN EXCERPT FROM STEPHEN COONTS' CUBA

There were just too many Cuban troops at Silo One. The two SuperCobras assigned there expended their Hellfire missiles on the tanks and trucks, then scourged the area with 20-MM cannon shells. Between them the assault choppers fired 1,500 rounds of 20-MM. As the first two assault choppers headed back to Key West for fuel and ammo, Battlestar Control aboard United States routed other SuperCobras to the site. They began flaying the area with a vengeance. The problem was that the troops were fairly well dug in. Almost a thousand men had arrived in the area early that morning under an energetic young commander who had ordered trenches dug and machine guns emplaced in earth and log fortifications. Two small bulldozers helped with the digging.

The machine-gun nests were gone now, victims of Hellfire missiles, but the troops in trenches were harder to kill. Fortunately for the Cubans, the trenches were not straight, but zigged and zagged around trees and stones and natural obstacles.

The young commander was dead now, killed by a single cannon shell that had torn his head off when he'd tried to look over the lip of a trench to find the SuperCobras. Most of his officers were also dead. Two of the SuperCobras had been shot down, one by machine-gun fire and the other by a trooper with an AK-47, who had managed to kill the pilot with a shot in the neck. The first chopper managed to autorotate down, and the crew jumped from their machine into an empty trench. With a dead man at the controls, the second machine flew straight into the ground.

The SuperCobras on site were almost out of ammo, and they were too low on fuel to fly the width of the Florida Strait. Accordingly, Jake Grafton ordered the crews to remain engaged and use their weapons sparingly. He also diverted all the SuperCobras with ammo remaining into the area.

The noise of eight assault choppers hovering around the battlefield that centered on the barn did the trick. One by one, the Cubans threw down their weapons and climbed out of their trenches with their hands over their heads.

Several of the SuperCobras turned on their landing lights and hovered over the barn, turning this way and that so that their lights shone over the men living and dead that littered the ground.

Minutes later an Osprey landed just a hundred feet from the entrance to the barn. Toad Tarkington was the first man out. When that V-22 had emptied its troops, it lifted off and another settled into the same spot. Marines with rifles at the ready came pouring out.

* * * *

With his engines running and the canopy closed, Major Carlos Corrado taxied his MiG-29 toward the runway at Cienfuegos. Two men walked ahead of the fighter with brooms, sweeping shrapnel and rocks off the concrete so the fighter's tires would not be cut. They weren't worried about this stuff going in the intakes: on the ground the MiG-29's engines breathed through blow-down panels on top of the fuselage, while the main intakes remained closed.

Inside the fighter Corrado was watching his electronic warning equipment. As he suspected, the Americans had a bunch of radars aloft tonight, everything from large search radars to fighter radars. He immediately recognized the radar signature of the F-14 Tomcat, which he had seen just a week or so ago out over the Caribbean.

Yep, they were up there, and as soon as the wheels came up, they would be trying to kill him.

A man only dies once, Corrado reflected. The Church doesn't make very much of that fact, but it can be a comfort at times. Everyone dies, but only once.

Carlos Corrado taxied his MiG-29 on the runway and shoved the twin throttles forward to the stop, then into afterburner. The MiG-29 rocketed forward. Safely airborne, Corrado raised the landing gear and came out of afterburner. Passing four hundred knots, he lowered the nose and retarded the throttles, then swung into a turn that would point the sleek Russian fighter at Havana.

* * * *
Inside the barn at Silo One, Toad Tarkington took in the carnage at a glance. He was the first American through the door.

Cannon shells and shrapnel from Hellfire warheads had played hob with the wooden barn structure. Holes and splintered boards and timbers were everywhere--standing inside, Toad could see the landing lights of the helicopters and hear Americans shouting.

Apparently several dozen men had taken refuge in the barn; their bloody bodies lay where the bullets or shrapnel or splinters from the timbers had cut them down. The floor and walls were splattered with blood.

Toad found the wooden door, got it open, used his flashlight to examine the steel inner door. He set three C-4 charges around the combination lock, and took cover.

The charges tore the lock out of door and warped the thing so badly it wouldn't open. Toad struggled with it, only got it open because two Marines who had come in to check out the interior gave him a hand.

The stairway on the other side of the door was in total darkness. Not a glimmer of light.

With his flashlight in his left hand and his pistol in his right, Toad slowly worked his way down.

He saw light bulbs in sockets over his head, but they were not on. Once he came to a switch. He flipped it on and off several times. No electrical power.

At the bottom of the stairs he came to a larger room. The beam of the flashlight caught an instrument panel, a control console. A bit of a face...

Toad brought the light back to the f ace.

A white face, eyes scrunched against the flashlight glare. An old man, skinny, with short white hair, frozen in the flashlight beam, holding his hands above his head.

* * * *
The radar operator in the E-3 Sentry AWACS plane over Key West was the first to see the MiG-29 get airborne from Cienfuegos. He keyed the intercom and reported the sighting to the supervisor, who used the computer to verify the track, then reported to Battlestar Control.

The AWACS crew reported the MiG as a bogey and assigned it a track number. They would be able to classify it as to type as soon as the pilot turned on his radar.

Unfortunately, Carlos Corrado failed to cooperate. He left his radar switch in the OFF position. He also stayed low, just a few hundred meters above the treetops.

There are few places more lonely than the cockpit of a single-piloted airplane at night when surrounded by the enemy. Corrado felt that loneliness now, felt as if he were the only person still alive on Spaceship Earth.

The red glow of the cockpit lights comforted him somewhat: this was really the only home he had ever had.

The lights of Havana were prominent tonight--he saw the glow at eighty kilometers, even though he was barely three hundred meters above sea level. He climbed a little higher, looking, and saw a huge fire, quite brilliant.

Carlos Corrado turned toward the fire. Perhaps he would find some airborne targets. He turned on his gun switch and armed the infrared missiles.

* * * *
The E-2 controller data-linked the bogey data to the F-14 crew patrolling over central Cuba at 30,000 feet. The bogey appeared on the scope of the radar intercept officer, the RIO, in the rear seat of the Tomcat. He narrowed the scan of his radar and tried to acquire a lock on the target, which was merely a blip that faded in and out against the ground clutter.

"What the hell is it?" the pilot demanded, referring to the bogey.

"I don't know," was the reply, and therein was the problem. Without a positive identification, visual or electronic, of the bogey, the rules of engagement prohibited the American pilot from firing his weapons. There were simply too many American planes and helicopters flying around in the darkness over Cuba to allow people to blaze away at unknown targets.

The darkness below was alive with lights, the lights of cities and small towns, villages, vehicles, and here and there, anti-aircraft artillery--flak--which was probing the darkness with random bursts. Fortunately the gunners could not use radar to acquire a target--the instant they turned a radar on, they drew a HARM missile from the EA-6Bs and F/A-18s which circled on the assigned stations, listening.

The F-14 pilot, whose name was Wallace P. "Stiff" Hardwick, got on the radio to Battlestar Control. "Battlestar, Showtime One Oh Nine, request permission to investigate this bogey."

"Wait."

Stiff expected that. Being a fighter pilot in this day and age wasn't like the good old days, when you went cruising for a fight. Not that he was there for the good old days, but Stiff had sure heard about them.

"That goddamn Cuban is gonna zap somebody while the people on the boat are scratching their ass," Stiff told his RIO, Boots VonRauenzahn.

"Yeah," said Boots, who never paid much attention to Stiff's grousing.

* * * *
Carlos Corrado saw that a building was on fire, burning with extraordinary intensity. Never had he seen such a hot fire. He assumed that the building had been bombed by a cruise missile or American plane and began searching the sky nearby visually for some hint of another aircraft.

He flew right over the V-22 Osprey carrying Tommy Armellini and Doll Hanna back to the ship and never saw it.

A lot of flak was rising from the outskirts of Havana, so Carlos turned east, away from it.

In the black velvet ahead he saw lights, and steered toward them. At 500 knots he closed quickly, and saw helicopter landing lights! They were flying back and forth over a large barn!

They must be Americans--they sure as hell weren't Cuban. As far as he knew, he was the only Cuban in the air tonight.

Corrado flew past the area--now down to four hundred knots--and did a ninety-degree left turn, then a two-hundred-seventy-degree right turn. Level, inbound, he retarded the throttles of the two big engines. Three hundred knots...he picked up the landing lights of some kind of strange-looking twin rotor helicopter and pushed the nose over just a tad, bringing it into the gun sight. Then he pulled the trigger on the stick.

The 30-MM cannon shells smashed into Rita Moravia's Osprey with devastating effect. She was in the midst of a transition from wing-borne flight to rotor-borne flight and had the engines pointed up at a seventy-degree angle. This twelve-second operation was controlled by a computer. This rotors were carrying most of the weight of the 25-ton ship, so when the cannon shell ripped in the right engine and it ceased developing power, the V-22 began sinking rapidly.

The good engine automatically went to one hundred percent RPM and transferred some of its power to the rotor of the bad engine through a transmission interconnect.

With shells thumping into the plane, Rita felt the bottom fall out. The one engine she had couldn't handle the load.

She pushed the nose over, trying to maintain rotor RPMs. The ground rushed at her, even as the cannon shells continued to rip the plane.

She pulled back on the nose and felt the rotors bite into the air. Then the machine smashed into the earth and she lost consciousness.

* * * *
In the missile room, Toad Tarkington held his flashlight on the old man as he produced a candle from his pocket and a kitchen match. He lit the match and applied it to the candle's wick.

One candle wasn't much, but it did light the room. Toad turned off the flashlight and stood there looking at the old man.

Muffled crashing sounds reached him, echoed down the stairwell, but no one came. Toad's head set was quiet too, probably since he was underground.

"Do you speak English?" Toad asked the white-haired man in front of him.

The old man shook his head.

"Español?"

"Si señor."

"Well, I don't."

Toad walked over and checked the man, who had no visible weapons on him.

He had a handful of plastic ties in his pocket. These ties were issued to every Marine for the sole purpose of securing prisoners' hands, and feet if necessary. Toad put a tie around the old man's hands. The man didn't resist; merely sat at the control console with his face a mask, showing no emotion.

"Cuban?" Toad asked.

"Nyet."

"Russki?"

The white head bobbed once, then was still.

Toad used the flashlight to inspect the console, to examine the instruments. This stuff was old, he could see that. Everything was mechanical, no digital gauges or readouts, no computer displays...the console reminded Toad of the dashboard of a 1950's automobile, with round gauges and bezels and...

Well, without power, all this was academic.

His job was to get that damned warhead out of the missile, then set demolition charges to destroy all this stuff, missile, control room and all. He left the Russian at the console and opened the blast-proof door across the room from the stair where he had entered.

Another stairway led downward.

Toad went as quickly as he dared, still holding the flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other.

He went through one more steel door...and there the missile stood, white and massive and surreal in the weak beam of the flashlight.

* * * *
The aviation radio frequencies exploded, everyone trying to talk at once, when Rita's plane was shot down.

Battlestar Control finally managed to get a word in over the babble, a call to Stiff Hardwick. "Go down for a look. Possible hostile may have shot down an Osprey."

Stiff didn't need any urging. He rolled the Tomcat onto its back, popped the speed brakes, and started down.

"Silo One," Boots said, "this bogey is flitting around down there like a goddamn bat or something, mixing it up with the SuperCobras and Ospreys. Let's not shoot down any of the good guys."

"No shit," said Stiff, who was sure he could handle any Cuban fighter alive. This guy was meat on the table. He just didn't know it yet.

* * * *
Carlos Corrado pulled out of his strafing run and soared up to three thousand feet. He extended out for eight or nine miles before he laid the fighter over in a hard turn.

He had seen helicopters down there, at least two. It was time to use radar.

As he stabilized inbound he flipped the radar switch to "transmit." He pushed the button for moving targets and, sure enough, within seconds the pulse-Doppler radar in the nose of the MiG-29 had found three. The rest of the drill was simplicity itself--he selected an Aphid missile, locked it on target, and fired. Working quickly, he selected a second missile, locked on a second target, and fired.

He had to keep the targets illuminated while the Aphids were in flight, so he continued inbound toward the silo.

One of the SuperCobras exploded when an Aphid drilled it dead center. The second missile tore the tail rotor off its target, which spun the violently into the ground and caught fire.

Carlos flew across the barn, holding his heading, extending out before he turned to make another shooting pass.

* * * *
Toad Tarkington found the circular steel ladder leading upward in the missile silo and began climbing.

When he reached the catwalk he walked around the missile, examining the skin. There was the little access port, six inches by six inches, with the dozen screws! That had to be it.

Toad put the flashlight under his left armpit and got out a screwdriver.

He had three screws out when the flashlight slipped out of his armpit and fell. It bounced off the catwalk and went on down beside the missile, breaking when it hit the grate at the bottom.

The darkness in the silo was total.

Toad cursed softly, and went back to taking out screws. He worked by feel. Someone will come along in a minute, he thought, bringing another flashlight. If someone doesn't, he would take time to go find another.

The trick, he knew, would be to hold on to the screwdriver. He only had one, and if he dropped it, it would go down the grate.

He heard muffled noises from above, but he couldn't tell what they were. It didn't really matter, he decided. Getting this warhead out of this missile was priority one.

Carefully, working by feel, he removed the screws one by one from the access panel. When he had the last on out, he pried at the panel. It came off easily enough and he laid it on the catwalk near his feet.

So far, so good. He carefully stowed the screwdriver in his tool bag and wiped the sweat from his face and hands.

Okay.

Toad reached up to find the latch that the ancient Russian engineer had said should be there. God knows where the CIA found that guy!

Yep. He found the latch.

He rotated it. Now the latch on the left. He was having his troubles getting the latch to turn when the lights came on in the silo.

From instant darkness to glaring light from twenty or more bulbs.

Toad pulled his arm from the missile, clapped his hands over his eyes and squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

He could hear a hum. Must be a fan or blower moving air.

No. The hum was in the missile, just a foot or two from his head.

Something was winding up. The pitch was rising rapidly.

A gyro?

What was going on?

Toad started down the ladder, moving as fast as he could go, intending to go to the control room to see what in the hell was happening.

He heard a grinding noise, loud, low-pitched, and looked up. The cap on the silo was opening.

He still had his tools. If he could get that access panel off and cut the guidance wires, the wires to control the warhead...

The American scrambled back up the ladder.

The little six-by-six access hole gaped at him. He ran his arm in, trying to reach the other latches that would allow the large panel to come off.

He got one open. The gyro had ceased to accelerate--it was running steady now, a high-pitched steady whine.

He was out of time: the fire from the missile's engines would fry him to a cinder.

He heard the igniters firing, popping like jet engine igniters.

The rocket motors lit with a mighty whoosh....

Copyright 1999 by Stephen Coonts