Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

“I’ve performed some calculations,” Díaz said. “We now have sufficient quantity to exceed by twenty tons our first delivery, which, incidentally, is scheduled for pickup tomorrow. I’ve taken the liberty of accelerating our final shipment to three weeks from today. Our customer has arranged for shipping accordingly.”

“That?

?s two months earlier than we agreed.”

“Yes, but the ore at Domingo 1 has proved a much higher grade than the previous sites. The customer will accept a reduced quantity on the second shipment if the ore contains a uranium oxide content exceeding thirty percent. We’re seeing amounts surpassing fifty percent, and I expect Domingo 2 and 3 to show similar yields. I’ve sent explosives to the sites in order to open the vents as soon as possible. If we blow the vents and begin extraction immediately, we can meet the shipment schedule. We just need to keep the Americans at bay until then.”

“You are asking a lot, but I suppose we have little choice,” Gutier said. “What about the mercury poisoning? I believe Domingo 2 and 3 are much larger thermal vents.”

“Yes, it could create an environmental disaster for the Americans.” Díaz stared up at a portrait of his brother, wearing his finest dress uniform while astride a black stallion.

“Alberto, it was I who discovered the uranium deposits during our oil surveys with the Mexicans. I was merely investigating the possibility of mining gold or silver from the vents. The existence of uranium—and in such high content—was a complete surprise. Yet it was you who saw the potential to use it to strengthen Cuba in the world. Our own leaders are not even aware of what you have accomplished.”

“Which makes it all the more damaging if things are revealed too soon.”

“You knew the risks when you engaged the North Koreans. Trading a thousand tons of high-grade uranium ore for a pair of tactical nuclear missiles was a bold gesture—and it remains such.”

“Bold but risky,” Gutier said. “I regret to say it was not even my idea. The Koreans wish to enlarge their nuclear arsenal and are short the raw materials to do it. The issue just happened to surface while we were discussing a small-arms trade. Still, it is a brilliant proposal.”

“A nuclear-armed Cuba will no longer be a pushover for the Americans,” Díaz said.

“We will take a rightful seat among the world’s powers.” Gutier clenched his fist, recalling their father’s death at the Bay of Pigs invasion. “Unfortunately, the deal can still unravel quickly.”

“Not with half the order going out tomorrow. But what of your own status? I thought you were anticipating some movement soon.”

Gutier checked his phone. “I am waiting for news at any moment.”

“The people look up to power,” Díaz said. “Bringing these weapons to Cuba will make you the country’s most powerful man. You will have achieved something that even Fidel could not.”

The words played on Gutier’s ego and his anger softened. “I am still concerned about this American ship and the possible repercussions.”

“We can say they were defecting.” Díaz smiled. “Convert the ship to our own use and quietly send the crew to a political prison.”

Gutier stared out the window, searching for a better idea. His phone beeped and he found an anonymous email with a video file attached. He played the twenty-second clip and a wide smile crossed his face.

“This changes matters.” He held up his phone and replayed the video.

Díaz watched as a man boarded a yacht, which moments later blew up in a massive fireball. A shocked look crossed Díaz’s face. “That man on the boat—he looks a lot like Raúl.”

“It is Raúl. He was in the Cayman Islands for a meeting of the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States. I had privileged information that he would be staying aboard a yacht owned by the Cayman’s deputy governor.” Gutier beamed. “It would seem there was an unfortunate accident.”

Díaz shook his head in disbelief. “My brother, that is a risky operation.”

“It was handled by outside elements. Professionals who have no interest in talking even if they thought they were killing somebody else.” Gutier gave a wry smile. “My only regret is that Foreign Minister Ruiz was not aboard. He was scheduled to have joined Raúl but canceled at the last moment.”

“An audacious action nevertheless. On the heels of Fidel’s passing, it will be a great shock to our country. Perhaps it is best that Ruiz was not there as suspicions might have been directed at you. On the other hand, you are still left in a precarious situation. The foreign minister is a lock to succeed Raúl, once our feeble vice president succumbs. You will not be able to maintain your position of power when that happens.”

Gutier showed no concern. “Perhaps you have provided the means to prevent that from happening.”

“What are you saying?”

“The Americans. They played right into our hands. Ruiz has made no secret of his desire to make peace with the United States and expand trade and tourism. His affection for America has always been his vulnerability. We’ll exploit it by implicating this NUMA ship in the death of Raúl.”

Díaz’s face lit up. “Of course. The public will go berserk if they think the Americans killed Raúl. We can make it look like a planned coup, an attempt to install the foreign minister as head of the government.”

“Just the whiff of a connection would be enough for the Council of State to turn their back on Ruiz,” Gutier said. “If not, I may be able to call on enough comrades in the military to back me in a temporary takeover while the charges are investigated.”

“The only thing better would be if you could claim credit for capturing the assassin,” Díaz said, his eyes dancing with inspiration. “Forget the research ship, we can go one better. I’ll give you the American in charge, a man named Pitt, who was aboard the submersible. We can pin the assassination on him.”