The Successor (6 page)

“Why
so
fast?” Christian asked.

“The problem, what we’re all
really
worried about here, is that the people who are clinging to power in Cuba right now might look for help from the outside if they decide they can’t hang on by themselves. If they sniff some kind of conspiracy they think actually has legs.”

“
Help
as in a terrorist state,” Christian suggested, anticipating where Wood was going with this. “Like Iran or Syria. Even China.”

Wood pointed at Christian. “
Exactly. China.
I can’t have China putting missiles on the ground ninety miles from Miami. Then I might start drinking something a lot stronger than beer on the job.” Wood grimaced. “And our intel indicates there are those kinds of secret discussions going on. You probably know about that oil deal Cuba signed with China.”

“Just what I read in the newspapers,” Christian said. Which wasn’t exactly true. He knew more than that, but he also knew the best way to get more information was to act as if you didn’t know. Especially when the other person wanted something from you. “Which wasn’t much.”

The president nodded, as if he expected Christian not to know much because everything he was about to say was so hush-hush. “China and Cuba have signed a formal agreement to develop oil fields right off Cuba’s coastline. They’re big fields, too, bigger than what’s being reported in the press. The right side of the aisle in Washington is going nuts on this, of course, but even some of my friends on the left side are getting nervous.”

Which Christian already knew.

“What hasn’t been reported,” Wood continued, “is that we believe there are very secret discussions going on about China basically stepping into the old Soviet Union’s role. Massive loans and subsidies, particularly with respect to the military and agriculture.” President Wood raised his eyebrows. “We all know nations don’t lend other nations billions and billions just to earn interest. There are other, very dark motivations here.”

“Those missiles you mentioned.”

“Right,” the president confirmed. “
First-strike
missiles. Even today, that’s a huge advantage.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, so basically what we’re talking about here comes down to a defensive play. I mean, I would really like to help the Cuban people. They’ve suffered for a long time. But I absolutely can’t have China getting a beachhead that close to us. That first-strike potential is terrifying.”

“Of course.” There was obviously a point to all this background and Christian could feel an excitement building, hoping he understood what Wood wanted him to do. “Why are you telling me all this, Jesse? Why did you have me come here?”

Wood stared at Christian for a few moments. “I need your help. I need you to meet with that group I mentioned, which includes some very senior ministry people who are secretly allying themselves with the Ochoa-legacy faction inside the FAR. But before I commit the United States to these people, I need you to tell me if they’re real. If you think they can handle setting up a free-market economy in Cuba while the Ochoa people take care of the muscle side. And, if you think they are capable, I’ll need you to advise them going forward. You’ll be on the ground there for a while, starting when the whole thing breaks out. So you can advise them right from the get-go.”

“You mean—”

“I mean right out of the box. You’ll be in Cuba when the switch is turned on. When the general gives the order to take out the Party leaders and all hell breaks loose.” Wood pointed at Christian. “You’re the best person I can think of for this job. I trust your instincts completely.” Wood picked a rose out of the arrangement of fresh flowers on the table and passed it beneath his nostrils. “As I’m sure you can imagine, there are a few major challenges with this thing.”

Again, Christian could see the immense toll the day-to-day strain of being president was taking on Wood. The way the scent of a rose was such a welcome distraction—even if the distraction lasted only a few seconds. “Other than the possibility of me being killed, what?”

Wood slid the rose stem back into the vase. “Like I said, this thing is obviously top secret. If what I’ve asked you to do is ever uncovered by the press or people opposed to my administration, I won’t be able to admit we had this conversation. I won’t be able to say you had any backing from the United States government to do what you were doing. Hell, I won’t even be able to admit you and I have spoken since I’ve been in office. If the rest of the world could prove we were supporting a new regime in Cuba, basically supporting a revolt, I’d have a massive diplomacy problem on my hands. Even our closest allies might line up against me.”

Christian eased back in his chair, mulling over what the president had just laid out for him. “Well, I do have one specific concern with all that.”

The president motioned inwardly with his fingers. “Tell me.”

“United States citizens aren’t supposed to do business with Cuban nationals. In fact, it’s illegal to even have discussions with them.” A few weeks ago, Christian had read an article about several Oklahoma businessmen being arrested for meeting with executives of Cuba’s state-run oil company in Mexico City. They’d been arrested by federal authorities at the Tulsa airport at the entrance to the Jetway as soon as they’d returned. Then they’d been escorted away in handcuffs in front of a large crowd, which included their wives and children. “Even if you meet with them on neutral ground, it’s a crime.” He hesitated. “Unfortunately, I’ve made some enemies as the chairman of Everest Capital. It’s been unavoidable and they might see it as an opportunity if they found out about it.”

Wood acknowledged Christian’s point with a quick wave. “I certainly understand the inevitability of making enemies.”

“Right. Well, the problem is—”

“The problem,”
Wood interrupted, “is that if one of your enemies found out you were meeting with people and alerted the local authorities, you’d have an issue. A potentially
big
issue because the local authorities would detain you, and the chairman of Everest Capital can
never
be detained
anywhere
for
anything
if he’s going to keep his credibility with his investors.”

“Detained might be okay. Convicted of something is out of the question.”

“Already thought about all this,” Wood assured Christian. “We’ll make certain you’re issued a valid license to meet with these Cubans. We’ll arrange that through the Office of Foreign Assets Control. You’ll get the license under an exemption for humanitarian projects and support for the Cuban people. It’s pretty common stuff. You’ll have a whole cover story, which will obviously have nothing to do with why you’ll really be meeting with them. And you’ll be carrying the license on you so there won’t be a problem. I assume you’ll take the right precautions such that no one will be able to follow you or be able to figure out where you’re going in the first place,” Wood said, his voice taking on a paternal tone. “Then we won’t have to worry about this at all.”

“I’ll need help on that,” Christian spoke up quickly. “I’ll need to let Quentin Stiles in on this.” Quentin Stiles was one of Everest’s five managing partners—the five senior people who reported directly to Christian—and an expert in security, including physical protection. He was also Christian’s best friend. “You remember Quentin, don’t you?” Quentin and the president had met when Wood was considering naming Christian his vice president.

“Of course, I do. He’s a good man.” Wood smiled. “I also remember Allison Wallace.” Allison Wallace was another of Everest’s managing partners. She’d joined the firm after her family had made a huge financial commitment to the fund prior to the one Christian had just finished raising. “You and she still hot and heavy?”

“We were never hot and heavy.”

“That’s not what my Secret Service guys told me.”

“Jesse, I don’t think—”

“Okay, okay.” Wood held up one hand. “Look, at some point I agree that you’ll have to bring Quentin in on this, but don’t tell him yet.”

“That doesn’t work. Quentin has to know right away.”

The president thought about it for a few moments. “All right, I’ll leave it up to you when you tell him. But
damn it,
Stiles better not—”

“I trust Quentin more than anyone else in the world. It’ll be fine,” Christian assured Wood.

“He’ll need a background check, too.”

“Fine.” Quentin would raise hell about that, but so be it. “I assume, given his history, that’ll be a quick process.”

Wood nodded. “It’ll be fast.”

“You said there were a
few
challenges,” Christian continued. “We’ve covered how I deal with the legal issue. What else is there?”

Wood grimaced. “Like you said, this thing could actually get pretty dangerous, Chris. If people inside the Party find out about it, there’s no telling what they’ll do. Ultimately you’ll have to go to Cuba secretly. I’m talking Special Forces stuff to smuggle you in there. Choppers and a jungle-drop-at-night kind of crap. While you’re in there, you’ll be a hell of a target if somehow they smell you. If we’ve miscalculated and there’s a spy inside the civilian group, for instance.”

Christian took a sip of water. “I’m not worried.” He’d never served in the military and had long felt a strange type of guilt about that. The possibility of being part of a Special Forces mission was exhilarating, even if he was just going to be the football. Maybe it would satisfy his growing hunger to do something bigger, something more important, than manage Everest. A hunger he understood more and more was being brought on by age. “Let me rephrase that,” he said. “I’ll be
plenty
worried, but I won’t let it stop me from going.” He’d earned a lot of money in his career because the United States was the safest place in the world to do business, but he’d never had any part in
making
it safe. “Plenty of young men and women went to Iraq. They didn’t let the danger stop them.”

“No, they didn’t,” Wood agreed. “Look, we’ll have protection for you while you’re there. A squad of Army Rangers
just
to protect you. And we’ll be able to get you off the island quickly if the revolt doesn’t look like it’s going to succeed. If the general we’re working with doesn’t turn out to have the influence with his subordinates we think he does. We’ll have plenty of ships right off the coast we can get you back to.”

“Unless China has ships out there, too.”

The president ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

Christian knew this would probably be the most sensitive question he could ask. “Will we be supporting the revolt militarily?”

The president started to say something, then stopped. “I can’t tell you that, Chris.”

Christian nodded to let Jesse know he wouldn’t dig any more on that issue. At least, not right now. “Okay.” That Wood had gone silent spoke volumes anyway. The U.S. military would be there. And not just the Rangers who would be protecting him. “What else?”

Wood shrugged. “I don’t know what to do for you in return. It’s really hard to—”

“You don’t have to do anything for me in return, Jesse,” Christian interrupted. “If I do it, I’ll do it because I think it’ll help the country.”

The president nodded slowly. “Thanks, Chris.” He hesitated. “If there is anything I can do, you know I will.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“Answer me this,” Christian spoke up. “A few minutes ago you said that you wouldn’t have thought this a few years ago, but that we might actually have a chance to win back the Cuban people. Has the embargo been that devastating?”

“It has,” Wood confirmed, “but the root of the problem the Cuban people have with us goes further back than that. It really started back in the late 1800s when we won the war with the Spanish.”

“I thought we granted Cuba their independence pretty soon after that.”

“We did, but it wasn’t without a lot of strings attached. Which is the problem,” Wood explained. “There was something called the Platt Amendment that went along with their independence, which basically let us intervene in Cuban affairs anytime we wanted to. It gave us carte blanche to make things go our way whenever it suited us, and we did. That’s really where the Cuban people’s resentment toward us began.”

“Mr. President.” The Secret Service agent stuck his head out onto the porch. “Your next appointment is here.”

“Tell him I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” Wood shifted his eyes back to Christian. “I need your help, Chris. Take a few days to think about it, but no longer. Like I said, we have to move on this. If it’s not going to be you, I’ll have to reach out to others.”

Christian wanted to ask a few more questions, but an older man with a gray beard strode out onto the porch with a Secret Service agent right behind him.

“Hello, Jesse,” the man said loudly.

Wood rose up off the couch. “Richard, hello. I’m not quite ready for—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just finish up…quick.”

“Yes,” Wood said slowly. “Well, I—”

“I’m Christian Gillette.” He held out his hand toward the man. “Nice to meet you.”

“Richard Hart.”

Christian recognized the name instantly. Richard Hart was a legend in the movie industry. “I’ve admired your films for years, Mr. Hart.”

“So many people have,” Hart said with a wave. “What do you do, Gillette?”

“I manage money.”

“Ah. No wonder I don’t recognize your name. I don’t pay much attention to that financial stuff.” He glanced at Wood, then back at Christian. “How much longer will you two be?”

IT WAS THE FIRST
great lesson of Melissa’s adult life: You can’t defy the king no matter who you are—even if you’re his daughter.

The night she’d won her award there’d been more than fifty screenplays stacked up on the dining room table of her apartment. Several she was extremely interested in, with roles she felt might win her the ultimate Oscar—Best Actress. The next morning her agent had called—again and again—to tell her that directors were demanding the scripts back. Then he’d called one final time at the end of the day—to quit, right on the phone. Richard Hart had struck with fury and force.