Still looking aft, Madeira spotted a bright flash astern of the gun, and off to one side. It started small and seemed to grow.
"Congratulations!" he shouted into the phone, the awful pounding in his head momentarily forgotten. "Wasnít that a hit you just got?"
"I just observed a big flash aft."
"Yes, I saw it too but Iím not sure ... Oh, shit! No!"
"That wasnít a hit. They just fired a Goddamn missile at us!"
* * *
And there, on the inside of the bubble, thought Madeira in a daze, mixed with the pens, pencils, and paper, is water. A small, splashing pool of water.
His heart stopped briefly as he watched the water splashing before his eyes, turning the cluttered bubble into a stew pot. Turning left, he discovered a thin stream of water cascading past and between him and Bannerman.
* * *
"Diego," Madeira said, leaning forward after taking a sip of his drink, "does the United States Government have any good reason to believe you and your associates are attempting to overthrow the current Cuban government?"