The muscles in Brogan's face went taut. The fact that such a supersecret spy operation had been constructed less than two hundred miles from the shores of the United States did not exactly thrill the chief of the Central Intelligence Agency.
"If worse comes to worse, what are we looking at?"
"What I'm afraid we're looking at," answered Charlie, "is an electronically advanced and powerful facility capable of intercepting radio or phone communications and then using time-lag technology to allow a new-generation computerized synthesizer to imitate the callers' voices and alter the conversation.
You'd be amazed how your words can be manipulated over a telep
hone to another party without your detecting the change. As a matter of fact, the National Security Agency has the same type of equipment on board a ship."
"So the Russians have caught up with us," said Brogan.
"Their technology is probably cruder than ours, but it seems they've gone a step further and expanded it on a grander scale."
The woman intelligence official looked at Pitt. "You said the island is supplied by submarine."
"So Raymond LeBaron informed me," said Pitt. "And what little I saw of the shoreline didn't include a docking area."
Sandecker played with one of his cigars but didn't light it. He pointed one end at Brogan. "Appears the Soviets have gone to unusual lengths to throw your Cuban surveillance off the track, Martin."
"The fear of exposure came out during the interrogation," said Pitt. "Velikov insisted we were agents on your payroll."
"Can't really blame the bastard," said Brogan. "Your entrance must have shocked the hell out of him."
"Mr. Pitt, could you describe the people at the dinner party when you entered?" asked a scholarly-looking man in an argyle sweater.
"Roughly I'd say there were sixteen women and two dozen men
"You did say women?"
"I did."
"What type?" asked the only woman in the room.
Pitt had to ask. "Define type."
"You know," she answered seriously. "Wives, nice single ladies, or hookers?"
"Definitely not hookers. Most were in uniform, probably part of Velikov's staff. The ones wearing wedding rings appeared to be wives of the Cuban civilians and military officers who were present."
"What in hell is Velikov thinking?" Brogan asked no one in particular. "Cubans and their wives at a top-secret installation? None of this makes any sense."
Sandecker stared pensively at the tabletop. "Makes sense to me, if Velikov is using Cayo Santa Maria for something besides electronic espionage."
"What are you hinting at, Jim?" asked Brogan.
"The island would make a perfect base of operations for the overthrow of the Castro government."
Brogan looked at him in astonishment. "How do you know about that?"
"The President briefed me," Sandecker replied loftily.
"I see." But it was clear Brogan didn't see.
"Look, I realize this is all highly important," said Pitt, "but every minute we spend speculating puts Jessie, Al, and Rudi that much closer to death. I expect you people to pull out all the stops to save them.
You can begin by notifying the Russians that you're aware of their captivity because of my rescue."
Pitt's demand was met with an odd quiet. Nobody except Sandecker looked at him. The CIA people, especially, avoided his eyes.