Fidel Castro’s office was lavish but cluttered. An assortment of twelve officers stood around listening to him. He was holding the North American newspaper in one hand while he pounded the desk with the other. In full tantrum, he also kicked the wall, and strode back and forth in front of Escalona, Ramiro, Pineiro, and Raul, waving his lit cigar in the air as he screamed and yelled. Ramiro sat in a chair with his feet up, watching Fidel rant and rave. He knew this was not a joke, but he didn’t look as worried as the other men. He, too, was smoking a cigar. Castro stopped in front of him and asked, “This must be the work of very sophisticated intelligence. Who is behind this? Do you have any information for me? Only a small group of people in our circle are privileged to this information. How in the hell did this get out and into the hands of our enemies?”
Ramiro reclined in his chair and took a long drag on his cigar. He had been waiting for months for this question—he had not dared before now to tell Castro that the mole was inside his own circle of confidants, for fear of the reaction it would elicit. He rested his cigar on the glass ash tray close to him and looked straight into Castro’s eyes. “Yes, my commander and chief, I am sorry to tell you that the Lightning, our worst nightmare for the past ten years, is the one who has been passing delicate secrets to the North Americans and the rest of the world. As you know, it has been nearly impossible to detect the leak, and I have finally come to the conclusion why it has been so difficult. It is because it is right here—in your office!”
So begins the story of The Zipper, see our Media Kit for more details and contact information.