Topaz - Leon Uris [54]
Yet the key link of an actual eyewitness remained missing.
The four Soviet ships left Viriel and were replaced by four others. André knew that the missiles would soon leave the Viriel docks on their trip to Finca San José. He became enormously anxious about what appeared to be a major Cuban and Soviet blunder.
In mapping out the routes to Finca San José there was but one choice. The missile carriers were compelled to travel from Viriel to Havana, through the edge of the city, then south on the airport highway.
Traffic into Havana was on a road that ran between Morro Castle and La Cabaña, then under the harbor through a tunnel. The tunnel emptied into Havana on the sea-front road, the Malecón.
By his own calculation of the size of the suspected missiles, they were too large to fit into the tunnel. This miscalculation would force the carriers to take a secondary road into Havana that led right into the old city. Here the missiles would have to travel through a labyrinth of small narrow streets.
If André’s reckonings were true, it was just possible the error would force the Russians to parade their secret cargo under their very noses.
In addition to Jesús Morelos, a number of other friends of Juanita de Córdoba lived in the old town. She told them what to look for and to sleep with one eye open.
The word passed from Viriel that the cargo had left the port under heavy guard on large carriers and was heading for Havana.
A young medical student, Arnaldo Valdez, lived with his parents in the La Lisa section of Havana, but often spent his nights with his sweetheart, Anita, who had a small apartment near Avenida de Agua Dulce in the old city.
During the day curious activity had taken place on the streets near her flat. Anita and Arnaldo spoke about it when he arrived in the evening, and they both concluded that it could be the clearing of a route.
It was after midnight, as Anita slept and Arnaldo studied at the desk in her bedroom, that he heard a distant sound of motors.
As he buttoned on his shirt, Anita awoke, frightened.
“For God’s sake, Arnaldo,” she pleaded, “don’t go out on the streets.”
“I must. You know what our instructions are.”
“But I’m afraid.”
“Shhhh. It will be all right.”
He left her stunned on the landing, looked up the stairs, blew a kiss and disappeared out onto the street.
In the old days something would be going on all night. Raucous revelry, laughter, whores, fights. But since the Revolution the streets were empty and listless soon after dark.
In the shadows of the arcaded sidewalks, Arnaldo wove his way through a maze of streets and alleyways past sleeping dogs and howling cats, moving ever closer to the sound of the motors.
Even as the streets began to rumble under the weight of abnormal loads no one was curious these days. The lights of Havana, save for a few squalid joints, remained dark. “HALT!” the sign before him warned, “THIS STREET IS CLOSED FROM MIDNIGHT TO DAWN!”
Arnaldo peered around the corner of the arcade and pondered his move. There were no headlights, but the convoy could not be more than a few blocks removed.
Across the darkened avenue he could make out the wooden booth of an old lottery stand. He darted out and crossed the street and dived under the counter. There he crouched into a ball and labored to quiet his gasping lungs.
Now he peeked around the tight confines. The stand was dilapidated. He poked with his penknife and pried a couple of boards apart, allowing him enough of a crack to see the street.
A platoon of motorcycles was almost on him, gunning up a roar, followed by the shuffling feet of soldiers at fixed bayonets probing around for loiterers or watchers.
Arnaldo curled into a ball of fear, mumbling prayers as the rumbling grew more pronounced. With a face of frightened sweat he lifted his eyes and knew he was going to dare a look.
An enormous tractor, the largest vehicle he had ever seen, pulled a trailer of six axles. Each axle had