support from some of the influential ministry honchos. People who want to see Cuba move away from Communism and come into the twenty-first century and who can do something about it. People who want to see the country open its borders to free trade and believe that capitalism is ultimately the way to go. I mean, it wouldn’t be our kind of capitalism, at least not right away. It would be more like Argentina or Brazil, but at least that’s a start. The problem is the support has to stay so quiet because people are worried about being hauled off in the middle of the night and never being seen or heard from again. So the progress isn’t coming as quickly as we’d hoped.” The president shook his head, as if he had a hard time believing what he was about to say. “We think the group that may have the best chance inside the government to wrest control from the Communists is one with ties to a guy named Alberto Ochoa.”
Christian raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, Jesse, but I guess I’m not as up to speed on Cuba as I ought to be. Who’s Alberto Ochoa?”
The president chuckled. “You mean you don’t have time to run Everest Capital, all those portfolio companies Everest owns, have some sort of personal life,
and
be completely caught up on Cuban history?”
“I might if I had the entire State Department working for me,” Christian muttered. A gibe, but there was a serious undercurrent to it. As he’d passed his fortieth birthday, his thirst for knowledge had dramatically intensified. He’d realized more and more how much he still didn’t know about the world—but how much he
wanted
to know. He was trying to read something every week—a biography, a period piece—but it was tough with his schedule and all the reading he had to do for Everest.
“That does make it a little easier,” Wood admitted. He checked the doorway, making certain the agent wasn’t standing there. “Here’s the abridged version. Along with Raúl and Che Guevara, Ochoa was one of the guys who made it happen for Fidel back in the day, back when the Revolution was coming to a head in the late fifties. When it was all said and done, Ochoa ended up being one of the most senior generals in the Revolutionary Armed Forces, in the FAR. He had a nice career going until the late eighties, when he suddenly found himself in Fidel’s doghouse. It’s not exactly clear what happened, but we think it might have had something to do with the fact that he supported the Russian brand of Communism, which ultimately couldn’t fend off Big Macs and MTV. During the eighties, Fidel was demanding that all his top people strictly support his hard-line approach. When Ochoa wouldn’t, the general basically bought his ticket to the execution train.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah, they tied him to a post in front of a four-man firing squad in 1989 after a kangaroo court convicted him of treason. There were trumped-up drug charges and bribery allegations, but there wasn’t anything to them. From everything the guys up the Potomac tell me, the only thing Alberto Ochoa was guilty of was defying Fidel.”
But sometimes that was enough when the guy you were dealing with was a paranoid schizophrenic. History had proven that over and over. “First rule of living in a dictatorship. Don’t piss off the dictator.”
Wood nodded. “Too bad Ochoa didn’t have you around, Chris. Maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe
he
could have led this thing.”
“So there are still people around who are bitter about what happened to Ochoa?” Christian asked.
“Yeah, there are. Apparently Ochoa was a stand-up guy. Took care of his people and they were loyal back. They didn’t take revenge for what happened to him because there wasn’t much they could do. Castro isolated Ochoa’s senior supporters very effectively. Paranoia has its positives.” Wood winced. “Turns out Ochoa was a tough bastard. I mean, most of those senior FAR guys are, but listen to this. Ochoa had two requests at his
Christian raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, Jesse, but I guess I’m not as up to speed on Cuba as I ought to be. Who’s Alberto Ochoa?”
The president chuckled. “You mean you don’t have time to run Everest Capital, all those portfolio companies Everest owns, have some sort of personal life,
and
be completely caught up on Cuban history?”
“I might if I had the entire State Department working for me,” Christian muttered. A gibe, but there was a serious undercurrent to it. As he’d passed his fortieth birthday, his thirst for knowledge had dramatically intensified. He’d realized more and more how much he still didn’t know about the world—but how much he
wanted
to know. He was trying to read something every week—a biography, a period piece—but it was tough with his schedule and all the reading he had to do for Everest.
“That does make it a little easier,” Wood admitted. He checked the doorway, making certain the agent wasn’t standing there. “Here’s the abridged version. Along with Raúl and Che Guevara, Ochoa was one of the guys who made it happen for Fidel back in the day, back when the Revolution was coming to a head in the late fifties. When it was all said and done, Ochoa ended up being one of the most senior generals in the Revolutionary Armed Forces, in the FAR. He had a nice career going until the late eighties, when he suddenly found himself in Fidel’s doghouse. It’s not exactly clear what happened, but we think it might have had something to do with the fact that he supported the Russian brand of Communism, which ultimately couldn’t fend off Big Macs and MTV. During the eighties, Fidel was demanding that all his top people strictly support his hard-line approach. When Ochoa wouldn’t, the general basically bought his ticket to the execution train.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah, they tied him to a post in front of a four-man firing squad in 1989 after a kangaroo court convicted him of treason. There were trumped-up drug charges and bribery allegations, but there wasn’t anything to them. From everything the guys up the Potomac tell me, the only thing Alberto Ochoa was guilty of was defying Fidel.”
But sometimes that was enough when the guy you were dealing with was a paranoid schizophrenic. History had proven that over and over. “First rule of living in a dictatorship. Don’t piss off the dictator.”
Wood nodded. “Too bad Ochoa didn’t have you around, Chris. Maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe
he
could have led this thing.”
“So there are still people around who are bitter about what happened to Ochoa?” Christian asked.
“Yeah, there are. Apparently Ochoa was a stand-up guy. Took care of his people and they were loyal back. They didn’t take revenge for what happened to him because there wasn’t much they could do. Castro isolated Ochoa’s senior supporters very effectively. Paranoia has its positives.” Wood winced. “Turns out Ochoa was a tough bastard. I mean, most of those senior FAR guys are, but listen to this. Ochoa had two requests at his
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