the back of his mind. Sure, this was an international incident in the making, but why had Loggins not worried more about the fact that his fiancee was on the other boat?
SEVEN
Pamela Drake glanced at the clock mounted on the cinderblock wall on the other side of the room. The minute hand quivered just millimeters away from the twelve. Good morning, she decided, not good afternoon. That would make her report sound all the more timely.
And timely it was. That they were here on a Cuban naval base had pissed her off at first. She’d blasted off at Aguillar, certain that he’d lied to her about getting the real story.
But his explanation had satisfied her and not even surprised the cynical part of her mind that always doubted the sincerity of any military organization. That the Cuban navy part of it, at least had cordial relationships with both Leyta and Aguillar made sense.
She ran her fingers one last time through the shining cap of brown hair that topped the face more Americans knew than that of the vice president. She took a deep breath, concentrated on centering herself, the normal routine for appearing on camera. Finally, as the minute hand clicked over to the upright position, she nodded at the cameraman.
“Good morning. This is Pamela Drake, reporting from Cuba for ACN.
This is a live report from the westernmost Cuban naval base. In keeping with my agreement with my host, I will not divulge any further details other than to say that the location of this particular installation is well known to the United States government.
“This morning, at approximately four a.m the American government sparked another round in the increasingly escalating tensions between Cuba and the United States. For the past two weeks, the presence of an American battle group allegedly conducting routine operations off the coast almost within the territorial waters of our neighbor has caused increasing concern on the part of the Cuban government. This day, those concerns were made real.
“As you know, American citizens are not allowed to visit Cuba.” She gave a small, rueful smile. “Restrictions on our First Amendment rights have never prevented ACN from being the first to bring you every story around the globe.
That dedication to our basic constitutional guarantees of freedom led to the American aggression this morning that almost killed me.”
Pamela paused for a moment, and repressed an involuntary shudder that threatened to work its way up from the base of her spine to her shoulders. There was no need to show fear with her command of her voice, every member of her watching audience was already experiencing it. She’d survived; that was enough. She took a deep breath and continued.
“I have no doubt that the American military establishment will try to deny their involvement in this incident. This murder, I should say.
However, I will not let that happen. I was there. I saw it. An innocent fishing boat, transporting freedom fighters to a clandestine meeting, was intentionally destroyed by an American missile. Whether or not the United States knew I was on board one of those ships, I refuse to speculate. However, you may draw your own conclusions.
“During a time when the American government has decided its national interests required a formation of a Trilateral Commission, extensive participation in a new world order, and recognition of the impact economies in other nations have on our own, it is particularly disturbing that we ignore our neighbors to the south. The circumstances are made worse by the fact that there are opposing opinions about the proper relationship between Cuba and America. The American government claims that political uncertainty may lead to the loss of investment capital if trade relations are opened with Cuba, and may be taken by the world community as a movement of support for this dictatorship. The U.S. appears solely concerned with dollars these freedom fighters, these men and women, risk their lives. If we can spend fifteen years in a war to try to support democracy on the other side of the Pacific Ocean, how can we rationalize failing to support these people in their struggle against Castro?”
She paused again, to let her audience absorb the argument. She would have to repeat it several times, she knew.
While television was the most compellingly immediate news medium in the world, its listeners were not always particularly attentive. Many of them wanted the story wrapped up in sound bites, in a sentence or two of intelligent commentary that would form their political views both at home and at the polls. She thought for a moment, then decided to go with it.
“I call on the American government to aid and support these precious freedom fighters, who are the Cuban equivalent of our constitutional founding fathers.” She gestured off camera toward a group of people her viewers could not see.
“I wish that I could show you their faces as I see them.
Proud, determined, reflecting the knowledge that they know they risk their lives every day for the freedom of their country. How many of us can say the same?
“Instead of supporting these people, our government this morning embarked on a determined campaign to destroy them. This is unconscionable, and we should not stand for it.
Cuba is a great and historic nation, and her people are deserving of our support and our friendship.” She continued to stare at the camera as she recited her normal sign-off, then relaxed only after she saw the telltale red light over the video camera blink out. “How was it?”
Santana stepped away from his watchful position near her cameraman.
“Beautiful.”
Batman slammed his hand down on the conference table, making most of his staff members jump. “Damn it, one of these days, I’m going to break her ever-loving neck!” He glared at the assembled officers, although they had nothing to do with his current mood.
The staff, hastily summoned from their other duties to watch the breaking news story, were equally horrified. That Pamela Drake had once been Admiral Magruder’s fiancee was no secret. Everyone in the tight-knit aviation community, as well as most officers outside of it, knew, and had followed the affair with interest. Their breakup over the Spratly Islands affair and Tombstone’s subsequent marriage to Tomboy had secretly delighted more than one. Tombstone needed to be kept inside the family, and that included his love life.
Batman sighed and leaned back in his high-backed chair.
He let the tension drain out of him as he stared at the still, watching faces around him. “Okay. She’s done it. So now what happens? You’d better believe we’re going to be besieged by requests for visits and briefings.” He pointed one finger at the public affairs officer. “Get it sorted out.
Now.”
“Admiral, I,” Bird Dog began.
Batman wheeled on him. “You keep your mouth shut, mister. You’ve done more than enough so far this cruise.”
He let the rage flood back, and focused on the lieutenant commander in front of him. “What in all hell’s bells gave you the idea of executing an aggressive decoy tactic? I’d bet my stars that Gator was trying to talk you out of it the entire time. Is that right?”
Bird Dog nodded, relieved that at least his RIO wouldn’t suffer his own public execution. After all, Gator had tried to stop him. He just hadn’t listened. As he hadn’t so many times before. “Gator had nothing to do with it. Admiral.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t just punch out and make you explain why you showed back up at the carrier without
