Read Online Shift: A Novel by Tim Kring and Dale Peck - Free Book Online Page A

gotta say, seems to be moving in very elite circles these days.”
    Everton’s expression didn’t exactly change at the mention of Giancana, but it stiffened with the effort of remaining impassive. “Fine,” he said in a condescending tone. “Let’s say you did meet with Raúl Castro. That still doesn’t explain why he would task an American with the job of finding out what motives the Soviets might have for a Cuban alliance.”
    “With all due respect, Drew—which is to say, none—you got to stop thinking like a bureaucrat and start thinking like a spook. Segundo didn’t trust his own men to get to the source of the problem. And even if they did, he didn’t think they could fix it.”
    “By ‘problem,’ I assume you mean this fanciful notion that the Russians left nuclear weapons in Cuba? We have reconnaissance photographs showing the missiles being taken off the island.”
    “You have pictures of
boxes
. Those boxes could be filled with
matryoshka
dolls for all you know.”
    “Nikita Khrushchev isn’t stupid enough to risk Armageddon for the sake of hiding one or two bombs on Cuban soil.”
    “Those are the dolls that sit one inside the other, by the way. Like Chinese boxes.”
    “I know what
matryoshka—
”
    “Although I guess in China they just call them boxes.”
    Everton’s ears were so red that Melchior was surprised they weren’t oozing smoke like his broken cigarette. Melchior puffed on his cigar.
    “Listen to me, Drew. Nikita Khrushchev might not be stupid enough to start World War III, but there are plenty of Russians who are. People whose objectives aren’t the same as Khrushchev’s, or the Kremlin’s for that matter.”
    Everton snorted. “You’re trying to tell me a rogue Soviet element was able to steal Russian warheads without anyone—KGB, CIA, or DGI—finding out about it?”
    Don’t forget the mafia, Melchior almost added.
    “Actually, a lot of people knew,” he said aloud. “Just not the who or the where. That’s why Segundo hired me. He found it easier to stomach the idea of a small-scale CIA operation to remove one or two pirated devices than for his country to be blown off the map when word leaked that there were nukes on its territory.”
    “I repeat, we have no intelligence indicating—”
    “Damn it, Drew, did you even
read
my report?
I’m
the intelligence. That’s what you pay me for, remember?”
    “We
paid
you to assassinate—” Everton cut himself off. Even in Langley, there were some things you didn’t say out loud. “We paid you to deliver a box of cigars. Instead you drop off the radar for almost two years, and when you do show up it’s smelling like rum and dressed like a plantation owner. Now, if you have any proof—”
    “Hacendado.”
    Everton folded his hands in front of him so tightly the knuckles turned white.
    “What?”
    “A plantation owner is called an
hacendado
, which you’d know if you paid any attention to the goddamn western hemisphere you’re supposed to be in charge of.”
    Everton opened his mouth but Melchior spoke over him. “Twenty-threemonths I spent on that miserable little island, Drew, and I’m telling you there are Russian elements—call ’em rogue, call ’em crazy, call ’em whatever the hell you want, but they’re using Cuba’s proximity to the U.S. to move the Cold War in a whole new direction.”
    Everton’s knuckles were so white they were practically green, and his pursed lips were equally pale, and the little crescents dancing in the hollows of his flared nostrils.
    “Fine. If you have any proof of such a conspiracy, by all means, produce it now. And by proof I mean something more than a blazer with a hole and a stain that looks like it was made by an exploding cigar. Pen, I mean. An exploding pen.”
    For the first time all morning, Melchior’s smile was genuine. This was his moment.
    He reached for his shoe, but the look of disgust on Everton’s face stopped him. He’d expected that look, even