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on the beach； overwhelmed by a surge of helplessness as he stared over the sea toward Cuba。
A shadow fell across his body； and he sat up。 A dark…skinned man stood over him； dressed fortably in a loose…fitting cotton shirt and shorts。 His slick； night…black hair matched an enormous moustache。 Sad eyes stared from a face wrinkled from long exposure to wind and sun； and when he smiled his lips barely moved。
〃Mr。 Pitt？
〃Yes。〃
〃We haven't been formally introduced； but I'm Major Angelo Quintana。〃
Pitt came to his feet and they shook hands。 〃You're leading the mission。〃
Quintana nodded。 〃Colonel Kleist tells me you've been riding him pretty hard。〃
〃I left friends who may be fighting to stay alive。〃
〃I also left friends in Cuba； Mr。 Pitt。 Only they lost their battle to live。 My brother and father died in prison merely because a member of their local block mittee； who owed my family money； accused them of counterrevolutionary activities。 I sympathize with your problem； but you do not have a monopoly on grief。〃
Pitt did not offer condolences。 Quintana struck him as a man who didn't dwell on sorrow。 〃As long as I believe there is still hope；〃 he said firmly； 〃I'm not about to stop pushing。〃
Quintana gave him an easy smile。 He liked what he saw in Pitt's eyes。 This was a man who could be trusted when things got tight。 A hardnose who did not know the definition of failure。
〃So you're the one who made the ingenious escape from Velikov's headquarters。〃
〃A ton of luck played a heavy role。〃
〃How would you describe the morale of the troops guarding the pound？〃
〃If you mean mental condition； I'd have to say they were bored to the gills。 Russians aren't used to the draining humidity of the tropics。 Overall they seemed sluggish。〃
〃How many patrolling the island？〃
〃None that I could see。〃
〃And the guardhouse at the front gate？〃
〃Only two。〃
〃A canny man； Velikov。〃
〃I gather you respect him for making the island appear deserted。〃
〃You gather right。 I would have expected a small army of guards and the usual Soviet security measures。 But Velikov doesn't think like a Russian。 He designs like an American； refines like a Japanese； and expedites like a German。 The man is one shrewd operator。〃
〃So I've heard。〃
〃I'm told you met him。〃
〃We've had a couple of conversations。〃
〃What was your impression of him？〃
〃He reads the Wall Street Journal。〃
〃That all？〃
〃He speaks better English than I do。 His nails are clean and trimmed。 And if he's read half the books and magazines in his library he knows more about the United States and its taxpayers than half the politicians in Washington。〃
〃You're probably the only Westerner running around loose who's ever seen him face to face。〃
〃It was no treat； believe me。〃
Quintana thoughtfully scraped one toe in the sand。 〃Leaving such a vital installation so lightly guarded is an open invitation for infiltration。〃
〃Not if Velikov knows you're ing；〃 said Pitt。
〃Okay； the Cuban radar network and the Russian spy satellites can spot every plane and boat within fifty miles。 An air drop or a landing from the sea would be impossible。 But an underwater approach could squeeze under their detection grids with ease。〃 Quintana paused and grinned。 〃In your case the vessel was too tiny to show up on a radarscope。〃
〃My inventory of oceangoing yachts was marginal；〃 Pitt said lightly。 Then he turned serious。 〃You've overlooked something。〃
〃Overlooked what？〃
〃Velikov's brain。 You said he was a shrewd operator。 He didn't build a fortress bristling with landmines and concrete bunkers for one simple reason he didn't have to。 You and Colonel Kleist are bleeding optimists if you think a submarine or your SPUD； or whatever you call it； can penetrate his security net。〃
Quintana's eyebrows narrowed。 〃Go on。〃
〃Underwater sensors；〃 explained Pitt。 〃Velikov must have ringed the island with sensors on the sea floor that can detect the movement of a submarine's hull against a water mass and the cavitation of its propellers。〃
〃Our SPUT was designed to slip through such a system。〃
〃Not if Velikov's marine engineers bunched the sensing units a hundred yards apart。 Nothing but a school of fish could swim past。 I saw the trucks in the pound's garage。 With ten minutes' warning Velikov could put a security force on the beach that would slaughter your men before they stepped foot out of the surf。 I suggest you and Kleist reprogram your electronic war games。〃
Quintana subsided into silence。 His precisely conceived landing plan began to crack and shatter before his eyes。 〃Our puters should have thought of that；〃 he said bitterly。
〃They don't create what they're not taught；〃 Pitt replied philosophically。
〃You realize； of course； this means we have to scrub the mission。 Without the element of surprise there isn't the slightest hope of destroying the installation and rescuing Mrs。 LeBaron and the others。〃
〃I disagree。〃
〃You think you're smarter than our mission puters？〃
〃I escaped Cayo Santa Maria without detection。 I can get your people in the same way。〃
〃With a fleet of bathtubs？〃 Quintana said sarcastically。
〃A more modern variation es to mind。〃
Quintana looked at Pitt in deep speculation。 〃You've got an idea that might turn the trick？〃
〃I most certainly have。〃
〃And still meet the timetable？〃
〃Yes。
〃And succeed？〃
〃You feel safer if I underwrote an insurance policy？〃
Quintana sensed utter conviction in Pitt's tone。 He turned and began walking toward the main camp。 〃e along； Mr。 Pitt。 It's time we put you to work。〃
Fidel Castro sat slouched in the fighting chair and gazed pensively over the stern of a forty…foot cabin cruiser。 His shoulders were harnessed and his gloved hands loosely clutched the heavy fiberglass rod； whose line trailed from a huge reel into the sparkling wake。 The dolphin bait was snatched by a passing barracuda； but Castro didn't seem to mind。 His thoughts were not on marlin。
The muscular body that once earned him the title 〃Cuba's best school athlete〃 had softened and expanded with age。 The curly hair and the barbed…wire beard were gray now； but the revolutionary fire in his dark eyes still burned as brightly as it did when he came down from the mountains of the Sierra Maestra thirty years ago。
He wore only a baseball cap； swimming trunks； old sneakers； and sunglasses。 The stub of an unlit Havana drooped from one corner of his lips。 He turned and shielded his eyes from the brilliant tropical sunlight。
〃You want me to cease internacionalismo？〃 he demanded above the muffled roar of the twin diesels。 〃Renounce our policy of spreading Cuba's influence abroad？ Is that what you want？〃
Raul Castro sat in a deckchair； holding a bottle of beer。 〃Not renounce but quietly bring down the curtain on our mitments abroad。〃
〃My brother the hardline revolutionary。 What brought on your aboutface？〃
〃Times change；〃 Raul said simply。
Cold and aloof in public； Fidel's younger brother was witty and congenial in privat