Topaz - Leon Uris [56]
With the Chinese cluttering up the air, it was impossible to monitor the area. What better place than in the apartment of Teresa Marín for the French espionage ring to place their own transmitter?
Near the end of the third week of André’s visit to Cuba, Juanita paid what appeared to be a normal social call to her old friend, Teresa Marín. One floor below, Fidel Castro made love to a new woman.
At the moment Fidel was making his conquest, a high-speed, low-frequency transmitter came from its hiding place in Teresa’s apartment and flashed a message to a receiver in Miami:
CONFIRMING THE INTRODUCTION OF SOVIET INTERMEDIATE RANGE MISSILES AT FINCA SAN JOSÉ AND PERHAPS REMEDIOS AREAS. MISSILES NOT YET OPERATIONAL. BASES APPEAR TO BE IN EXCLUSIVE HANDS OF SOVIET TROOPS.
The message was signed with André’s ININ code name, Palomino.
28
MUÑOZ AND THE SOVIET Resident, Oleg Gorgoni, stared into the eternally black, angry eyes of Rico Parra, who appeared intense even when drinking his morning cafecito.
The Russian hammered home his position. “Both Devereaux and the French Ambassador have a history of complete sympathy to the Americans. Devereaux has been in Havana almost three weeks. For what?”
Rico played with his beard. “Routine business.” “In the light of our present activities,” Gorgoni continued, “we cannot consider his visit to Cuba at this time as coincidental.”
“Well, Muñoz,” Parra said, “you’ve had him under watch. What do you think?”
“We could find nothing specific. Only suspicions.”
“Since when do we let suspicions stop us?” Gorgoni demanded.
“Since we started playing with high-ranking diplomats, Comrade Gorgoni.” Rico threw up his hands. “I have no love lost for the Frenchman but I am reluctant to act without proof.”
“There will be proof enough when you open his attaché case.”
“And if there isn’t? He’s just hot for Juanita de Córdoba, and when he gets to Cuba he finds reason to stay.”
“Is their affair such an innocent little game?” the Russian said.
Rico’s eyes seemed even blacker. “You’re treading on quicksand, comrade. She is a great and respected woman. But ... suppose we do get rid of Devereaux. What about French-Cuban relations?”
“Did Castro give you authority to act or not?”
“Yes, but I’m giving the damned authority right back to him.”
“Comrade Parra! The Frenchman cannot be allowed to leave Cuba with a suitcase filled with intelligence.”
Parra shrugged and gestured. “So, what if the Yankees discover the rockets? Just what will they do? What did they do when the surface-to-air missiles were installed? Eh? Nothing, they did nothing.”
“SAM’s are defensive weapons,” Gorgoni answered; “this is different.”
“What about the Soviet jet bombers in Cuba? Are they defensive? Again the Americans didn’t do anything, and they won’t do anything now,” Parra bragged.
“Moscow is very concerned. Once we make the missiles operational it will be an accomplished fact. But they must be made operational first. You know as well as I of the increased American U-2 flights over Cuba. What are they looking for? Bananas?”
Rico Parra slammed his fist onto the desktop. “Do the Yankees have missiles in Turkey pointing at the Soviet Union? Yes or no?”
“One question does not answer the other. We must have time to make them operational. Devereaux leaves tomorrow. What will Castro say to you when the Americans threaten to invade Cuba? What will become of Rico Parra then? Think, comrade ... think of the consequences to you if Devereaux carries out information of this.”
Rico Parra thought. “Uribe!” he shouted.
His fragile secretary, Luis Uribe, hurried into the room.
“Did you reach Castro?”
“I called the apartment, also Che and Raul. He is on his way to Santiago for a speech but apparently stopped off en route to see one of his woman friends. He can’t be located.”
“What kind of crazy country are you running here when you can’t find your own President!” the Russian said angrily.
“Comrade Gorgoni,” Parra answered indignantly, “we are Cubans. Uribe, keep trying to locate Castro. Muñoz, you will go to the airport tomorrow.