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His mind began to gallop. The soldiers had been gossiping about Fidel. With the Maximum Leader having been ill for three years, what would come after him was always on the people's minds. Krasny had been told by the ever-informative Corporal Roberto that any talk about a Cuba without Fidel was strictly forbidden among the military. That Raul Castro would become Maximum Leader in name as well as in fact was a foregone conclusion. |
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He rattled his tin dish against the bars, Like a prisoner in an American film, he thought. |
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"Hola, Cabo Roberto! Hola! What is happening down there?" |
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He was filled with a bursting certainty what had transpired. Old Fidel had finally breathed his last. That simply had to be it. Fidel was dead and Raul was ready to pay his debt to General Kondratiev, who had dispatched to Havana the entire cache of KGB files on Latin America. Kondratiev had also persuaded the Minister of Defense to start again to send Russian arms to the Cuban armed forces, and he had miraculously managed to find money to pay for the use of Cienfuegos Naval Base. It was all coming round at last, Krasny thought triumphantly. |
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"Hola! Roberto! Tell me who is here!" |
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When there was finally a response, Krasny almost sang for joy. When the new government is formed, I shall ask to be ambassador to Havana, he thought. |
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He was suddenly pierced by an almost unbearable sexual desire that had been absent since his confinement. He had a sudden vivid memory of a girl sailor he had seduced aboard a supply ship when first he became a political officer. Firm fleshed, clean, young. So long, he thought, since I have had anything like that. |
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A pair of soldiers in clean, well-cut uniforms were marching up the path to his hut. It was true, he thought triumphantly. All of his imaginings were finally true. The debt had come due and would be paid. |
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