WITHOUT FIDEL: A Death Foretold in Miami, Havana, and Washington. Ann Louise Bardach. Scribner. 352 pages. $28.

More than three years have passed since the Cuban exile community prematurely erupted in joy at the news that Fidel Castro had initiated the process of ceding power to his elderly baby brother. While Raúl has made gestures toward reform, hardliners remain entrenched at the top levels of government. Last week's thuggish assault on heroic blogger Yoani Sanchez is merely a noteworthy example of the regime's continuing intolerance of dissent.

Nonetheless, Ann Louise Bardach is cautiously optimistic. This intrepid reporter and Cuba maven believes Raúl would like to institute a form of glasnost. But unlike Gorbachev, he has no intention of peacefully relinquishing power. Standing in his way is Fidel, whose protracted and satisfyingly painful leavetaking of this world, alas, has not deterred him from exerting his megalomaniacal will over a beleaguered country he has treated like his personal slave plantation for half a century.

In her clear-eyed and well-researched new book, Bardach charts the political ripples radiating from the shock wave of the maximum leader's semi-retirement, not only in Havana but also in Miami and Washington, the cities that complete ``the Cuban triangle of capitals.''

Without Fidel takes a three-pronged approach: the life and impending death of Fidel, the wormy underside of the exile community and Raúl's emerging new order. With Fidel, reporters have difficulty getting accurate information, because he so jealously guards his privacy. The irony is rich, of course: He has established a broad network of internal spies and informants but loses his temper when anything leaks about himself, his mistresses or his sizable brood. In fact, he was so offended by the gossipy revelations in Bardach's last book, Cuba Confidential, he blacklisted her from entering Cuba. This didn't stop her from piecing together a believable account of the events surrounding his ghastly bout with diverticulitis, which has reduced this legendary overindulger to a colostomized wraith in an Adidas tracksuit.

With the exiles, Bardach revisits material from Cuba Confidential, which placed the Elián González fiasco within the context of a historical symbiotic hatred. Again we meet Orlando Bosch and Luis Posada, the duo who masterminded the bombing of a Cuban airliner in 1976. As Bardach notes, this was ``the worst act of airline terrorism in the hemisphere prior to 9/11.'' A raft of other crimes can be linked to these men, and yet today both live in Miami.

Bardach reveals how they were protected and cosseted by the U.S. government and local authorities. The story is the stuff of thrillers: evidence and files shredded, charges dismissed, agents and prosecutors pressured to hang fire. At one point, the Bush administration even went after Bardach for getting too close to the truth. The glaringly hypocritical administration allowed a ``Castro Exception'' to its much-ballyhooed antiterrorism policies.

``Anyone able to wrap himself in the banner of Viva Cuba Libre seemed eligible for a pass,'' writes Bardach. ``In any other American city, Posada would have been met with a SWAT team, arrested, and deported. But in the peculiar ecosystem of Miami, where hardline anti-Castro politicians controlled Spanish-language radio stations and the ballot boxes, the definition of terrorism remained a pliable one.''

The dirty little secret of ``la lucha,'' the struggle against Castro, is what a federal cash cow it has been for some exiles. Non-Cuban Americans will be surprised when they read of the millions of their tax dollars wasted on boondoggles such as Radio and TV Marti. As for the three hyphenated-named congresspersons from Miami who are largely responsible for this largesse, Bardach singles out Castro's nephew by marriage, Lincoln Diaz-Balart, for opprobrium. Diaz-Balart shares his uncle's birthday, but this ``lifelong satellite around Planet Fidel'' also, apparently, has a similar disposition toward critics and opponents. They tend to wind up smeared and intimidated.

Diaz-Balart will have to wait to realize his long-rumored desire to run for the presidency of Cuba. ``The Castros are the dynastic royal family of Cuba,'' declares Bardach. The prince regent lacks the mad king's charisma, intellect and verbal facility, but for the moment he has the allegiance of the key pillars of a wobbly society: the armed forces and the Communist Party. Maybe Raúl will follow the half-glass-full Chinese model: he will welcome capitalist investment and dig in his heels on human rights. All one can be sure of is that Fidel will not be around to witness his beloved revolution's inevitable mutation and dissolution.

Ariel Gonzalez teaches English at Miami Dade College.