“I can’t take looking at myself in the mirror anymore. I look like an old man now. But I guess that comes with the job, huh?” His expression brightened. “Hey, congratulations on selling Laurel Energy to Exxon. I saw that announcement in the
Journal
a couple of months ago.”
“Thanks.”
“How much did you get?”
“A lot. It was a nice transaction for us. So, why did you ask me out here to Camp David, Jesse?” It wasn’t that Christian was being coy about the number, he just didn’t like dwelling on his own good fortune. He was uncomfortable talking about his successes, always had been. Besides, he wanted to turn the conversation to what he was really interested in. What Jesse wanted from him. “I’ve gone through all the damn background checks.” Three months’ worth of them, including a daylong enema detailing his entire sexual history. “What do you want from me?”
Wood motioned for the agent to leave. When he was gone, the president leaned forward on the wicker couch. “It involves Cuba,” he said quietly.
That sounded interesting. “What about it?”
Wood pursed his lips a few times. “Look, here’s the thing. Our people in Cuba are fairly sure El Jefe is dead.”
Christian glanced up.
“He hasn’t been seen in public in a couple of months,” Wood continued. “And we think the guy meeting people behind the scenes is a double.” He chuckled. “The CIA has assassinated three of Fidel’s doubles over the years, so they ought to know when they see one by now.”
“Jesus.”
“Yup. That’s what they tell me anyway.”
Amazing stuff, Christian thought to himself. There was so much the American people didn’t know, so much they
couldn’t
know. “There’s been no announcement of the guy’s death.”
“I know. But we think he handed the reins over to his brother several weeks ago. Made him Cuba’s new president for life right before he died. The thing is, the new man needs to consolidate power before he makes El Jefe’s death official, so he’s keeping the body iced down. But it’s been harder for him to get control than he anticipated. Harder for him to get that same stranglehold on the country his brother had. The situation is just so bad inside Cuba. Food shortages, energy shortages, poverty. People are itching for change and they aren’t mesmerized by him the way they were his brother, which is making it very hard for him to pull everything together. With some key factions inside Cuba’s military, especially.” Wood hesitated, letting out a long breath. “Which could be very good…or
very
bad.”
“How sure is the CIA that El Jefe is dead?” Christian asked. Wood hadn’t specifically identified “our people in Cuba” as the CIA, but Christian assumed that was whom he meant.
“Ninety-eight percent,” Wood answered, smiling. “Same first question I asked.” His expression quickly turned serious again. “Several of the country’s highest-ranking officials have fled the country secretly in the last few weeks. Minister of tourism, minister of mining. A couple of others were caught trying to escape and were executed, families, too. People are really scared. More than they’ve ever been because the state has stepped up its spying activities on citizens. Which we think is more proof that El Jefe is dead. The paranoia level has heated up to a nuclear level and the crackdown’s on.” Wood paused. “A couple of years ago I’d have said we’d never have a chance to win back the Cuban people, but we may have a window of opportunity after all. We may have a chance to influence the island again, develop close ties to a new government that understands how helpful we can be.”
“How do we do that?”
“Our guys on the ground there are telling me that the power struggle is incredibly intense. Several groups within the government are trying to take control, and a couple of them are actually trying to get rid of the Communists. Those groups are quietly getting
Journal
a couple of months ago.”
“Thanks.”
“How much did you get?”
“A lot. It was a nice transaction for us. So, why did you ask me out here to Camp David, Jesse?” It wasn’t that Christian was being coy about the number, he just didn’t like dwelling on his own good fortune. He was uncomfortable talking about his successes, always had been. Besides, he wanted to turn the conversation to what he was really interested in. What Jesse wanted from him. “I’ve gone through all the damn background checks.” Three months’ worth of them, including a daylong enema detailing his entire sexual history. “What do you want from me?”
Wood motioned for the agent to leave. When he was gone, the president leaned forward on the wicker couch. “It involves Cuba,” he said quietly.
That sounded interesting. “What about it?”
Wood pursed his lips a few times. “Look, here’s the thing. Our people in Cuba are fairly sure El Jefe is dead.”
Christian glanced up.
“He hasn’t been seen in public in a couple of months,” Wood continued. “And we think the guy meeting people behind the scenes is a double.” He chuckled. “The CIA has assassinated three of Fidel’s doubles over the years, so they ought to know when they see one by now.”
“Jesus.”
“Yup. That’s what they tell me anyway.”
Amazing stuff, Christian thought to himself. There was so much the American people didn’t know, so much they
couldn’t
know. “There’s been no announcement of the guy’s death.”
“I know. But we think he handed the reins over to his brother several weeks ago. Made him Cuba’s new president for life right before he died. The thing is, the new man needs to consolidate power before he makes El Jefe’s death official, so he’s keeping the body iced down. But it’s been harder for him to get control than he anticipated. Harder for him to get that same stranglehold on the country his brother had. The situation is just so bad inside Cuba. Food shortages, energy shortages, poverty. People are itching for change and they aren’t mesmerized by him the way they were his brother, which is making it very hard for him to pull everything together. With some key factions inside Cuba’s military, especially.” Wood hesitated, letting out a long breath. “Which could be very good…or
very
bad.”
“How sure is the CIA that El Jefe is dead?” Christian asked. Wood hadn’t specifically identified “our people in Cuba” as the CIA, but Christian assumed that was whom he meant.
“Ninety-eight percent,” Wood answered, smiling. “Same first question I asked.” His expression quickly turned serious again. “Several of the country’s highest-ranking officials have fled the country secretly in the last few weeks. Minister of tourism, minister of mining. A couple of others were caught trying to escape and were executed, families, too. People are really scared. More than they’ve ever been because the state has stepped up its spying activities on citizens. Which we think is more proof that El Jefe is dead. The paranoia level has heated up to a nuclear level and the crackdown’s on.” Wood paused. “A couple of years ago I’d have said we’d never have a chance to win back the Cuban people, but we may have a window of opportunity after all. We may have a chance to influence the island again, develop close ties to a new government that understands how helpful we can be.”
“How do we do that?”
“Our guys on the ground there are telling me that the power struggle is incredibly intense. Several groups within the government are trying to take control, and a couple of them are actually trying to get rid of the Communists. Those groups are quietly getting
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