~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Comandante, Cortisone is inside the compound,” Santiago told his commanding officer.
“I thought that you told me he couldn’t be found inside the fortress yesterday,” the Comandante accused his bodyguard.
“He has just now arrived from the outside,” Santiago replied. “He was able to pass thru their lines.”
“Take me to him at once,” the Comandante said hurrying after Santiago.
Santiago led his commander to an area just inside the blown out front gates. “He is here Comandante.”
Cortisone stepped forward, “Comandante, much has changed since the last time I visited the fortress.”
“Yes, much has changed and not for the better I fear,” the Comandante admitted. “How were you able to get into our fortress?”
“It is possible for a man alone that knows what he is doing. But it takes time and one must be careful.”
“What can you tell me about the situation out there? Is it as bad as I fear it is?”
“Take me to a map so I can show you what I have found out,” the Cuban sniper said.
“Come to my office I have a map there on the wall,” Castro said leading the way back to the command center.
Cortisone stepped up to the map. “During the day you have maybe 200 men surrounding the clearing around your fortress. At night that number swells to maybe 500. In the village here,” Cortisone pointed. “Lives 2000 well armed fighters housed in tents.”
“But where did these fighters come from? Where did they get their weapons?” the Comandante asked.
“I captured a man and took him deep into the forest where we could be alone to ask those questions. I killed him once he had no more information to share with me.”
“The Americans came here for Philippe Quentes. They stumbled onto your men butchering and raping the people of the village and drove them out. The actions of your men angered them so deeply they decided to help the locals out. They supplied medical treatment for those that survived and then brought in weapons and tents and food for the men that were recruited.”
“So it is true then, the Americans are involved in this,” the Comandante said. “We haven’t communicated with Havana in days. Why haven’t they come to find out why?”
“The Americans severed your lines of communication. They constructed their own radio center to answer your calls with. They are pretending to be the fortress and are doing the communicating with Havana.”
“What, this is impossible. Havana must know that it is a ruse,” the Comandante said in disbelief.
“They monitored your communications for weeks until they knew the pattern of communications. What day you radio your reports in. What day you ordered supplies, and so on.”
“Would you be able to take over the radio center and broadcast a call for help to Havana?”
“The radio shack is very well guarded. I think it would be suicide to attempt it but I can see, maybe it would be possible in the early morning hours.”
“Are Carlos and Francisco Estaban involved with the Americans who have done this to us?”
“They are the leaders of the guerilla movement. They are the ones who recruited the men who surround you.”
“I will pay you a year’s wages if you can kill either one of them, a year’s wages for Carlos and a year’s wages for Francisco.” It sounded like a generous offer but in Cuba the average man earns only about $15.00 a month.
“I will grab my sniper rifle from the armory and go hunting for the two brothers my Comandante.”
“We must find a way to call for help. Once you have killed the brothers then find a way to call in Fidel’s troops.”