Shadow Flight

Kerchner pointed at a ship on the enhanced satellite picture. "This is a Kara-class guided missile cruiser, and this," Kerchner tapped the screen, "is a Kashin-class guided missile destroyer. We believe they are operating with at least two or more hunter-killer submarines."

Kerchner paused for effect. "The carrier task force could be in Cuban waters in a matter of hours. It could become an explosive situation. If an armed conflict erupts, it could spread to American shores very quickly."

Glancing at Jarrett, Kerchner continued. "By now, Castro and the Kremlin should know we are damned serious."

"Bernie," the secretary of state spoke finally. "What's actually happening in Cuba — on the island?"

Kerchner picked up a paper marked top secret. "The Soviet signal intelligence collection facility at Lourdes has turned into a beehive of activity. They've been soaking up every scrap of military communications, including domestic telephone calls. The increase was noticed within an hour of our notification that the Stealth bomber was in Cuba."

"Also," Kerchner continued, "the vast majority of Cuban warships have put to sea, or are about to get under way. Bear H and J aircraft — a total of nineteen — have been dispensed all over the island. The Soviets normally have a total of seven or eight Bears in Cuba."

Kerchner clicked the projector again, showing detailed satellite photos of the entire Communist island. "Here we have MiG-23s, — 25s, and -27s scattered from one end of Cuba to the other. You can see two-and three-plane groups at a number of remote civilian airfields. We also know that the Cubans, since late '89, have acquired at least forty-seven MiG-29s, if not more. There are eight of them dispersed around Havana, but the majority are kept concealed in various forms of camouflage."

Kerchner flashed his last slide on the screen. "This is a high-resolution photograph from the latest satellite shots. These concentrations of equipment, including T-62 and T-55 tanks, are moving toward the San Julian air base."

Kerchner clicked off the projector light and turned on the overhead lights in the basement room. "We have also seen a number of helicopter gunships and MiGs repositioned close to the Cienfuegos nuclear power station. Ignatyev and Castro know that we aren't going to sit here and wring our hands if we locate our B-2."

Alton Jarrett leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. "If Ignatyev is bluffing, I'm going to call his bluff."

The president looked at his vice president, then faced Gardner again. "If the B-2 is not at San Julian, we're going to have to step back and reevaluate our position. If it is located at San Julian, and I am convinced it is, we have to respond swiftly and boldly."

"I understand, Gardner replied evenly, "but I recommend that we attempt a diplomatic solution when we have conclusive evidence that the B-2 is in Cuba."

Truesdell softened slightly. "I concur with your diplomatic initiative, but we know that the Soviets are going to disavow everything."

Gardner picked up his pipe and clamped it in his mouth. "If we have clinical evidence — photos—"

Jarrett's intercom buzzed. "Yes?"

"Mister President," the male voice announced, "the reconnaissance aircraft is about to take off from Cancun."

"Very well," Jarrett replied, then looked at his secretary of state. "Sam, go ahead and contact Minister Aksenhov and set up a meeting this evening. Just the three of us — here in the White House."

"Yes, Mister President."

Jarrett turned to Kerchner. "Bernie, let's have the Strike Warfare Center briefing."

"I'll get the captain," Kerchner responded as he finished stacking his slides.

CANCUN

Marine Capt. Greg Spidel taxied the sinister-looking, olive-drab North American Rockwell OV-10D Bronco to the end of runway 12. The fuselage sat between two stubby wings with long engine nacelles. The two nacelles ran the length of the armed reconnaissance aircraft, forming twin tails that connected the tall, wide horizontal stabilizer.

The aerial observer seat behind the pilot was vacant, and the two underwing hardpoints held AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles. Every indication of country of origin, along with the serial number, had been sanded clean or otherwise removed.

Steve Wickham sat alone in the cramped compartment behind and below the cockpit. He was isolated in the dark interior except for his communications link with Spidel. The rear quick-disconnect cargo door had been removed, allowing Wickham an unobstructed view out the back of the aircraft.

Wickham, uncomfortable in his wet suit, sat on a sliding seat mounted flat on the floor. He was restrained by a seat strap and a shoulder harness. Greg Spidel would inform him when to unbuckle and prepare for the paradrop.

"All set, Mister Wickham?" Spidel asked as he cycled his flight controls.

"Hey, Spider, drop the Mister," Wickham replied, adjusting his Clark headset. "I'm ready when you are."

"We'll be rolling in a couple of seconds," Spidel said over the intercom.