SEAL team leader. “Can you get them out?”
“We know where the pilot is at least, we think we do.
With the right support, we can extract him.”
“When?”
The SEAL team leader shrugged. “We’ve been ready since Thursday.”
1545 Local (+5 GMT) Fuentes Naval Base “We’re going to have to move
you. Miss Drake,” the colonel said. He bowed slightly, and smiled.
“Of course, with your permission.”
“Why? What don’t you want me to see now?”
“You miss our point entirely. I know you’ve been watching the
television coverage of this little conflict. Your country is planning
on launching an attack. Staying where we are would be inadvisable at
best.”
She glared at him. “You’re moving me to safety?” Scorn dripped out of
her voice. “Because if that’s what you have in mind, forget it. I
don’t run from a story not ever.”
“Not at all,” the colonel said smoothly, ignoring the tone of voice.
“In fact, we’re going to give you an opportunity to see the futility of
it firsthand.”
Pamela stared up at the maze of girders, trying to discern a pattern.
The metal beams angled out in odd ways, no two exactly parallel. There
must be major sections of it still missing, she thought, tracing out
the pattern in her mind and trying to match it to any other military
equipment she’d ever seen before. Nothing immediately sprang to mind
except She turned to the colonel. “These are missile launchers,
aren’t they?” It was more of a statement than a question.
A small frown crossed his face. “What is it to you?”
“Large missile launchers,” she insisted. “In fact, the only thing
comparable I’ve seen was in Germany, the housings for the short-range
tactical nuclear weapons aimed at the Soviet Union.” She watched his
face carefully, searching for the confirmation she wanted. She found
it.
“You will tape the next report from here,” the colonel ordered. “This
will make a fine background, will it not?” he said, gesturing at the
girders.
“They’ll know you’ve got them. You know the United States will never
tolerate this.”
“They already know. Do you believe that we do not understand your
satellite operations?”
“Then if they know, this will be one of their first targets.”
In fact, I suspect that this little trick you’re trying to pull off is
behind the whole conflict. That Cuban plane that was shot down it came
too close, I bet. She studied the colonel, new respect in her eyes.
“Your report,” he said, his voice harsh.
She nodded to the cameraman, stepped away from the girders, studied the
scene to find the perfect position to report from, then nodded her
head. “There, over by those boxes.” With the girders on one side of
her and the boxes on the other, it would make an impressive show of
military readiness. Besides, her report might provide additional
confirmation to the U.S. intelligence sources on the nature of Cuba’s
weapons. She gestured for the cameraman to follow her.
Ten minutes later, they were ready. She took a deep breath, made the
last cursory pass of fingers through hair, and nodded.
“This is Pamela Drake, reporting live from western Cuba.
We have just received notification that the United States intends to
execute a tactical strike on Cuba. While no doubt one of the factors
that figured into its planning was minimizing collateral damage, my
sources here tell me there is little chance the United States will be
able to achieve that objective.”
She took a deep breath. Her voice felt unexpectedly shaky this was
going to be harder than she thought. She looked upward, wondering if a
satellite was staring down on her as she taped this scene.
“This missile installation will undoubtedly be first on the United
States’ target list. As you can see, I am standing only fifteen yards
away from what is probably the aim point. My sources here inform me”
she paused, taking a moment to make eye contact with the cameraman and
nod at him, putting him on alert that something unexpected would
happen” that I will not be allowed to leave this area until the attack
is over. Isn’t that correct. Colonel?”
She smiled approvingly as the cameraman swung around to get a shot of