Shadow Flight

Surveying the activity, he forced his mind to be calm. He watched a GAZ field car approach the building and stop next to a group of Cuban soldiers. A Soviet officer stepped out of the vehicle and walked to the cluster of men. Wickham listened intently, trying to catch what the Russian was saying. Suddenly, the soldiers formed two groups and approached the barracks and administration building.

Wickham swore to himself and scooted back three feet. He wedged the camera and the assault rifle between the cracked foundation and a support beam, then braced his toes on the concrete ledge. Placing his fingers through a rotted hole in the wooden beam, he yanked himself up between the supports.

He held his breath, listening to the men, as two of the soldiers looked under the building with flashlights. Seconds became an eternity as Wickham's arms began to quiver from the strain of holding his body horizontal.

THE WHITE HOUSE

Alton Jarrett, unable to sleep, had showered, shaved, and donned a fresh suit. He was nibbling his breakfast and reading an update brief when the vice president entered the Oval Office.

"Any word, Mister President?" Kirklin Truesdell asked, carrying two file folders.

"Nothing yet," Jarrett answered, motioning Truesdell to a chair. "Sam is talking with the Soviet ambassador, but I don't anticipate much progress from that avenue… Take a look at this," the president continued, handing Truesdell a sheaf of confidential briefing notes.

The vice president sat down, read each section thoroughly, then looked at Jarrett. "They executed Voronoteev?"

"Afraid so," the president said, grim faced. "Norm Lasharr confirmed it fifteen minutes ago. He said that the execution was open to certain individuals-media representatives and dissidents-in order to send a message."

Jarrett slid aside his tray. "The United Nations Security Council has come out against our position, as usual."

"The UN is an open embarrassment," Truesdell replied in a disgusted voice. "They have voted against us eighty-three percent of the time in the past year. It really peeves me."

The president tossed his napkin on the breakfast tray. "Kirk," he said as he leaned forward in his chair, "I have ordered a third carrier group to rendezvous in the Caribbean. The Abraham Lincoln and her escorts will stand off the western shore of Andros Island. They're southwest of Bermuda, moving at flank speed. We also have three attack submarines en route to the area, and the Air Force, Navy, and Marines are concentrating fighter aircraft along our southern bases.

"Also," Jarrett continued, glancing at his page of personal notes, "I have ordered the Wisconsin and her support ships to get under way as quickly as possible. Two destroyers have already left Ingleside and cleared Corpus Christi Bay. They'll loiter until the battleship is in open water."

Jarrett turned his paper over. "The Lexington is in the gulf conducting carrier qualifications, so Bernie decided to attach it to the Wisconsin, along with two reserve frigates and a combat support ship. He wants the flight deck available for emergencies."

The president massaged his chin. "Bernie and the Joint Chiefs are concerned because we won't have any element of surprise. The Cubans have more than seventy thousand troops on the island, plus several hundred leftover Soviet advisers."

Truesdell nodded. "I recommend strongly that we strengthen our southern flanks, too."

"Bernie is coordinating the effort as we speak." The president handed Truesdell another piece of paper. "He also debriefed the on-site commander and his three pilots from the Guantanamo skirmish."

"Oh?" Truesdell paused, keenly interested. "What happened?"

Jarrett shrugged. "The MiGs slashed right through the navy formation — on the outskirts of our base — and entered an attack posture."

"Did they fire at our pilots?"

"No," Jarrett replied, removing his glasses. "The first two aircraft that went down — an A-4 and a MiG-23—collided in a head-on pass. Our pilot ejected and the other pilot, a Soviet, as you know, never got out. The two aviators who shot down the other MiGs thought their leader had been fired upon. They engaged, with the on-site's permission, immediately after the collision."

The president stopped a few seconds to allow Truesdell to skim the brief. "The point is that the MiGs forced the issue… pushed us against the wall."

Truesdell shook his head in acknowledgment. "An open effort to divert attention."

"That's how I see it," Jarrett replied, glancing at his watch. "Have to run — the press conference is scheduled in nine minutes."

"What do you plan to say?" the vice president asked with a concerned look on his face.

"The truth — as much as I can reveal," the president answered as he stood. "I'm not going to start deceiving people at this stage."

SAN JULIAN