“Thanks.”

“How’s it going? Mongoose, I mean.”

Tedder looked guarded and said: “I’ll report at the meeting.”

“I won’t be there.” George looked at his wristwatch. He was deceitfully implying that he had been invited, which he had not; but he was curious. “I have a meeting at the White House.”

“Too bad.”

George recalled a fragment of information. “According to the original plan, you should now be in phase two, the buildup.”

Tedder’s face cleared as he inferred that George was in the loop. “Here’s the report,” he said, opening the cardboard folder.

George was pretending to know more than he did. Mongoose was a project to help anti-Communist Cubans foment a counterrevolution. The plan had a timetable whose climax was the overthrow of Castro in October of this year, just before the midterm congressional elections. CIA-trained infiltration teams were supposed to undertake political organization and anti-Castro propaganda.

Tedder handed George two sheets of paper. Pretending to be less interested than he was, George said: “Are we keeping to our timetable?”

Tedder avoided the question. “It’s time to pile on the pressure,” he said. “Furtively circulating leaflets that poke fun at Castro is not achieving what we want.”

“How can we increase the pressure?”

“It’s all in there,” Tedder said, pointing at the paper.

George looked down. What he read was worse than he expected. The CIA was proposing to sabotage bridges, oil refineries, power plants, sugar mills, and shipping.

At that moment Dennis Wilson walked in. He had his shirt collar undone, his tie loose, and his sleeves rolled, just like Bobby, George noticed; although his receding hairline would never rival Bobby’s vigorous thatch. When Wilson saw Tedder talking to George he looked surprised, then anxious.

George said to Tedder: “If you blow up an oil refinery, and people are killed, then anyone here in Washington who approved the project is guilty of murder.”

Dennis Wilson spoke angrily to Tedder. “What have you told him?”

“I thought he was cleared!” said Tedder.

“I am cleared,” said George. “My security clearance is the same as Dennis’s.” He turned to Wilson. “So why have you been so careful to keep this from me?”

“Because I knew you’d make a fuss.”

“And you were right. We’re not at war with Cuba. Killing Cubans is murder.”

“We are at war,” said Tedder.

“Oh?” said George. “So, if Castro sent agents here to Washington, and they bombed a factory and killed your wife, that wouldn’t be a crime?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Apart from the fact that it’s murder, can’t you imagine the stink if this gets out? There would be an international scandal! Picture Khrushchev at the United Nations, calling on our president to stop financing international terrorism. Think of the articles in The New York Times. Bobby might have to resign. And what about the president’s reelection campaign? Has no one even thought about the politics of all this?”

“Of course we have. That’s why it’s top secret.”

“And how’s that working out?” George turned a page. “Am I really reading this?” he said. “We’re trying to assassinate Fidel Castro with poisoned cigars?”