Freedom Fighters

48. Resignation

"This is utterly ridiculous. Who does that damned Urrutia think he is?" a man burst out. 

"We must do something about this. Otherwise we will not be able to push the reforms through!" another man raised up. 

Raúl massaged his forehead, trying his best to calm himself down. The conference did not unfold the way he expected. It seemed that Urrutia had found a backbone. 

"We must send a message! A strong one!"

"What do you suggest?"

"Oh no. But he is still the President after all. We must not do anything rash."

The scene soon devolved into people clamouring for their words to be heard, while Raúl stood in the center of the circle, visibly irritated. His cronies yapped on endlessly like a chorus of mindless birds. 

Raúl raised his hands and snapped. "Alright! Alright! Stop talking!"

They stopped their incessant chatter immediately. 

Raúl breathed out a puff of hot air. "I will talk to my brother and see what can be done. Meanwhile, don't do anything rash. We cannot afford to show these counterrevolutionaries any form of weakness!"

He then stormed off, neck compressed beneath his shoulder blades. He opened the door of his office, and stalked through the halls of the National Capitol Building. The seat of Cuba's government had become a war zone. But instead of rifles, people wore suits and ties to war, hostility hidden behind their forcefully wide smiles. 

Raúl passed by a few of Urrutia's supporters by the corridors, bureaucrats who did not deign to even acknowledge him. He vowed that he would make them pay. With them gone, Cuba would finally be within his grasp. 

Fidel Castro's office was finally in sight after he climbed another flight of stairs. A pair of guards stood by the open door and made way for him.

"Brother!" he called out as soon as he entered. Fidel Castro's back was turned to him, as the older brother gazed out the window, smoking a cigar. 

"We must do something about this," Raúl said. "We can't let that damned Urrutia stop us!"

Fidel Castro turned around slowly, every movement of his body made in measured confidence. He sat back down on his armchair, his facial features devoid of any signs of panic. 

"Relax, Raúl."

The younger Castro shot a quizzical look. "You have a plan?"

Fidel nodded. "I was just on the phone with Che. We have something worked out."

The boiling emotions within Raúl suddenly cooled, as a sense of relief washed over him. "Really?"

"Well, it's a plan to turn the situation on its head. You see, my brother. Urrutia, with his presidential power, will make it very difficult to pass our agendas. He is risking an all out power struggle with us, and I suspect for very good reason. He probably has obtained support from some within our party, and I think I know who."

"Even so," Raúl said. "How do you propose to stop that?"

Fidel merely shrugged, giving a cold smile. "Simple, Raúl. We just have to make sure Urrutia isn't the President anymore."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"General! General! General!"

Dario looked up from his pile of documents on the table to see his aide rush into his office, sweat plastered all over his forehead. 

"What is it?"