Topaz - Leon Uris [0]
By
Leon Uris
This book is dedicated
to my friend
Herbert B. Schlosberg
Contents
Part I
ININ
Prologue Summer, 1962
1 Late Summer, 1961
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Part II
The Rico Parra Papers
1 Summer, 1962
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
Part III
Topaz
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Part IV
Le Grand Pierre
1 The Summer of 1940
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10 Albert Hall, London February, 1944
11
12
13
Part V
Columbine
Prologue
1 October, 1962
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
A Biography of Leon Uris
Part I
ININ
Prologue
Summer, 1962
MARSH MCKITTRICK’S BUICK WAS passed through the gates of the vast Government complex outside Langley. He eased onto the turnpike, then sped toward Washington, touching his briefcase nervously and looking into the rearview mirror. Two cars filled with heavily armed guards followed closely. Sanderson Hooper beside him and Michael Nordstrom in the rear seat remained speechless.
Marsh McKittrick felt small victory in the vindication that was about to be his. Responsible directly to the President on intelligence matters, he had argued vociferously about the Soviet behavior in Cuba since the terrible happening at the Bay of Pigs.
The Soviet Prime Minister had interlarded peace pledges with bold threats for the months of 1962 and acted with growing daring, cunning, and menace.
Sanderson Hooper, one of the most competent intelligence evaluators, had been reluctant to go along until now. The contents of the briefcase finally convinced him.
In a matter of moments the young American President would be faced with a terrible decision. And was not this decision too great a judgment for a single mortal? Was it not God’s decision if the human race should survive or perish?
For an instant McKittrick disliked his own fleeting thought that the President might back down under the sheer weight of the consequences. Who really knew or had any way of knowing the President’s steel? Well ... we’ll all soon find out, McKittrick thought.
His hands became clammy on the wheel of the car. He sighed a half-dozen times to relieve the tension that welled in his chest and he looked again to make sure the guard cars were close at hand.
He opened the side vent to spill in fresh air for relief from the heavy pall of pipe smoke glumly puffed by Sanderson Hooper.
All the clues were there. The sudden increase of shipping from Soviet-bloc nations into a revitalized Cuban port, the influx of thousands of Soviet “technicians.” Numerous unidentified trips to Moscow by key Cuban officials. What did the Cuban buildup mean? There was no real proof, only a myriad of speculations. But it was enough to create a growing uneasiness in the American Congress and rumbles for action.
With instant access to the President, McKittrick, Nordstrom, and Hooper were led immediately to the office in the West Wing.
Marshall McKittrick unsnapped his worn briefcase, withdrew a folder of reconnaissance photographs which had been taken by a U-2 aircraft from high altitude. He spread the pictures on the President’s desk and handed him a high-powered magnifying glass.
“Woods near San Cristóbal, Mr. President. This site has been recently cleared. Blowups and the photo analysts will be here within the hour.”
“Spell it out, Mac,” the President said tersely.
McKittrick looked to Hooper, then Nordstrom. “It is still speculative but we are all in accord....”
“Spell it out,” the President repeated.
“In our opinion, the Soviet Union is introducing missiles into Cuba armed with atomic warheads and aimed at the East Coast and Midwest United States.”
The President set the magnifying glass down slowly, resigned that he would have to hear the words he had so long dreaded.
“We are in a state of grave national crisis,” Sanderson Hooper blurted as if speaking to himself.
“I’ll say we are,” the President answered with