Caribbean Standoff - Panama City

Waverly arrived at the El Canal restaurant first and the head waiter escorted him to a secluded table to await Cat and her guest. At a moment past noon, he jealously watched Cat enter the room. The eyes of the predominately male diners turned also. She and Moore made an attractive couple, for the presidential advisor was as tall and handsome as Cat was beautiful. She held his arm possessively as they approached the table. Waverly was amused at his subtle anxiety, though the previous evening, still vivid in his mind, would have calmed the average man.

He stood as they approached the table. To his surprise Cat extended her hand in formal greeting, saying as she did so, "Mr. Waverly, I'd like you to meet a very close friend of mine, Enrique Moore."

"I'm pleased to meet you after learning so much about you, Mr. Waverly." Moore's English was as impeccable as his dress. "Your reputation has preceded even the kind things Ms. Cato has said about you." The man's handshake was firm, his expression sincere, and his eyes held Waverly's as he spoke.

The small talk over lunch was pleasant and polite, allowing the two men to gauge each other independently. There was never an indication on Catalina's part that her relationship with Waverly was more than formal.

Moore seemed the kind of man to accept statements at face value. When Cat excused herself after dessert, Waverly welcomed the chance to approach him directly. "Mr. Moore, I'm aware you occupy your responsible position because you're a hard man to fool. My purpose in Panama is more than purely business transactions."

"I'm aware of that." The response was matter-of-fact as if Waverly had just commented on the attractive flowers on the table. Then he added. "Even nations as backward as Panama have intelligence agencies."

Waverly smiled in embarrassment. Harry Locke would have been able to respond to a remark like that. "Most of my interest is in your so-called people's revolution," he said. "My country feels that you underestimate what these rebels are capable of accomplishing."

Moore smiled almost condescendingly. "I see," he sighed. "We have ambassadors for that sort of thing you know, and...."

"That's been tried already."

"Your country has a rather poor record of analyzing and interfering in hemispheric problems, Mr. Waverly. Is it any wonder that your statesmen haven't been well-received in their attempts to explain our revolutionary problems to us?"

"I'm not about to teach you about your own country. I know President Arosemena is friendly with Fortaleza del Pueblo. If you will please give me some time, I can show that not only is your so-called ally contributing to sophisticated management of the rebels, but also that they are directed by Beijing."

"I've heard enough about that so I doubt it's worth either of our time."

"Would you give me half an hour? I don't wish to discuss this in front of Ms. Cato." Both of them rose as Cat returned to the table.

"I can never refuse a business proposition, Mr. Waverly. Why don't you come back to my office with me."85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG15zoO7GCA
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The Presidential Palace in Panama City was an impressive building. It radiated power, as such structures were meant to do. The military guard outside, which had been tripled since the successful attack at the airport, was brisk and efficient. What appeared from the street to be the entrance to the main building, was the entrance to a well-fortified wall which then opened onto a courtyard. The actual palace was toward the rear. Waverly could see by the placement of statues situated on wide bases that there were definite fields of fire for defense against any assault on the building.

Additional soldiers occupied the Palace's interior, and there was little trouble in identifying the President's suite from the number of guards outside it. Moore's office was adjacent to that of President Arosemena. That told Waverly a great deal about the relationship of his host to the leader of the government.

"Mr. Waverly, I am a busy man and I do not have much time for foreigners, despite their good intentions. However, I am not naive. You are not a businessman, just as I am not a peasant farmer. If you would be so kind as to disclose who sent you and the purpose of your visit, perhaps we can begin our conversation with a greater level of mutual respect." Moore stopped, cocking his head slightly to one side, his hands spread before him as if to say in gesture, let's not waste each other's time, okay?

Waverly liked this man---he was forthright. There was no need to attempt to fool a man who couldn't easily be fooled. "Right from the start, just so we're honest with each other, I don't represent the White House or the CIA or any other organization that might be at the top of your President's shit list. I'm in the Navy. Naval Intelligence, to be precise." He went on to explain why Bull Binghamton was so concerned. He emphasized the anticipated return of the Cuban combat brigade, the expansion of Chinese naval forces in Cuba and the Caribbean, and the ominous increase in Chinese naval units in areas contiguous to the Caribbean.

Moore's features never altered. He maintained a disinterested, rather than a bored, expression. Finally, he interrupted. "Mr. Waverly, we do have an intelligence infrastructure in Panama and I'm aware of many, though not all, of the things you've mentioned. What I'm much more interested in is how this is going to affect us here in Panama."

"For one thing, what you're involved in is no mere peasant uprising."

Again Moore's head cocked to one side. "Do you think you know my country better than I do?!"

A direct response seemed the best answer to a direct man. "It's not the love of Panama that has me involved. It's the long-range effect on my own country. We're the real targets of the Chinese, not Panama. You're just a means to an end. We're the prize. Your canal might not have the military implications it did 70 years ago, but it still means a great deal. It means we may not be able to support Europe or the Middle East with any of our Pacific forces, and it also means that we can't resupply the Pacific, if need be, from 2/3 of our ports. Must I spell out the implications of Chinese dominance for your nation in the years to come?"

Moore simply shook his head. "No. There are too many other factors to worry about that could influence the future. I'm more interested in the present--- and that's why you've been saving that for last, isn't it, Mr. Waverly?"

"The middle-ranking officers, your captains, and majors who have been trained in Cuba are the ones causing a lot of trouble. This is a major concern for you and President Arosemana."

Moore's eyes narrowed slightly, but it was the only hint that what Waverly was saying was having any effect.

"You should know that I witnessed a significant portion of the attack at the airport four weeks ago. Analyzing situations like that is my expertise. Those attackers were not just ordinary people with hunting rifles. They were highly skilled guerillas, commandos, rangers - whatever label you prefer. The weapons being used were sourced directly from the People's Republic of China. I inspected one of the captured automatic rifles, and it was evident that they were not relics from Fidel's guerrilla days in the hills nearly eighty years ago. Furthermore, the helicopters were not piloted by inexperienced country boys. If those pilots were not Chinese, I would wager they were Cuban. It's infuriating to see foreign influence so blatantly at play in America's backyard. Their intervention is always sneaky. And, Mr. Moore, the reason why a lot of this news isn't reaching this palace is because your army is biding their time to assist them. Your generals are content and clueless about what their subordinates are up to. And your young officers are unknowingly serving as pawns for Beijing through Fortaleza del Pueblo."

Waverly stopped. He realized that Moore had not interrupted him once. The man sat quietly behind his desk, only his eyes occasionally indicating that he was taking in what the American was saying.. Waverly folded his arms and waited. He'd said enough, maybe too much, for the time being.

Moore took a deep breath, his eyes again holding Waverly's. "I have heard whispers of this on occasion, from various sources." And then his eyes lit up a bit, a smile breaking his set jaw. "But I've never heard it put so succinctly in, ah...." he looked at his watch. ".....about 12 minutes. You have a way of being direct."

Waverly said nothing. He had to force Moore to question him.

"What is their next move?"

"A raid on Colon? If they can just impress President Arosemana enough to talk to them once, that's their strategy. I can already predict what they'll say - they don't want to take over the country, they just want to make some social changes. Then a couple of generals will retire early, and before you know it, all those captains and majors will become generals, replacing President Arosemana's troops with their own. Fortaleza del Pueblo bureaucrats will start popping up as advisors at every level of government. And soon enough, Cuban teachers with Maoist views will be sent to help combat illiteracy outside the city. Before you know it, Enrique Moore will have a new job, and President Arosemana will realize that retirement isn't so bad after all."

Moore's expression remained passive. "You make it sound so simple... so straightforward."

"The Chinese are patient. They're friendly---there'll be no violence. It's a gradual process. First, it's anti-imperialist, then progressive, then socialist. The final step is Maoist. That's why it's called the patient approach." Waverly leaned forward. "Then do you know who's going to start appearing in the streets? Cuban soldiers....a few Chinese advisors....at first. And do you know who's going to be running the canal?"

"How on earth does the United States plan to prevent all of this chaos and disaster?"

"Nobody would be happy with my suggestions. And Arosemana isn't going to invite us unless some of his trusted advisors convince him that our assistance is the best thing for Panama."

"We will never be close allies with your country."

"Mr. Moore, I'm not your ally myself. We don't have to sleep together."

Moore smiled. "I like that approach. You'll never make it in the foreign service, Mr. Waverly, but I like it."

"Will you talk with President Arosemana?"

"Yes. By all means. But I doubt it will make much of an impression on him. There's no love lost between him and America." Moore paused for a second. "But I have an even better idea. If he won't commit more troops to Colon, I'll go along with you. There might be something that can convince him," the advisor smiled. "Maybe we could bring back some Chinese souvenirs."85Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXpdtGBGAow
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It was too nice a day to accept the proffered ride back to his hotel from the palace. Newton Waverly preferred to walk. Strolling along at his own pace, thinking, was like his morning shower. The mind could organize and catalog, making preparations for the next steps as new events took place. It was a process that Bull Binghamton had taught him many years before.

Waverly's first introduction to Binghamton came in the mountains of Afghanistan when the older man commanded a special forces unit, leading missions that often felt like high-stakes gambles with Lady Luck. The desert landscape remained deceptively serene, the sandy winds whispering through rocky outcrops and sparse vegetation, though the seemingly calm surroundings could erupt with death at any moment. Newton Waverly was one of the few whose sixth sense kept more men alive and more convoys intact. Late at night, drinking warm coffee with the ever-present dust swirling around them, Binghamton would patiently explain his methods of analyzing intelligence reports, tracking insurgent movements, and anticipating the goals of the enemy—he would go on and on, and Newton Waverly would absorb every bit of new information. It was an education in survival and leadership. It was also proof beyond doubt to Waverly that Binghamton was a man to remain close to. There were few like him, with the innate talent to succeed so naturally.

As he now wandered the city streets, taking in the new sights and smells and sounds, Newton Waverly understood how valuable a key Enrique Moore could be. Waverly no longer wondered at his luck in finding a man like that so fast. He accepted it as a logical conclusion to his efforts, just as Bull Binghamton would have.

Panama City

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