In politics, everything was connected.

We have to do something about the missiles, George thought.

He had no idea what.

Fortunately Jack Kennedy did.

“First, we need to step up U-2 surveillance of Cuba,” the president said. “We have to know how many missiles they have and where they are. And then, by God, we’re going to take them out.”

George perked up. Suddenly the problem did not seem so great. The USA had hundreds of aircraft and thousands of bombs. And President Kennedy taking decisive, violent action to protect America would do no harm to the Democrats in the midterms.

Everyone looked at General Maxwell Taylor, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and America’s most senior military commander after the president. His wavy hair, slick with brilliantine and parted high on his head, made George think he might be vain. He was trusted by both Jack and Bobby, though George was not sure why. “An air strike would need to be followed by a full-scale invasion of Cuba,” Taylor said.

“And we have a contingency plan for that.”

“We can land one hundred fifty thousand men there within a week of the bombing.”

Kennedy was still thinking about taking out the Soviet missiles. “Could we guarantee to destroy every launch site in Cuba?” he asked.

Taylor replied: “It will never be one hundred percent, Mr. President.”

George had not thought of that snag. Cuba was 777 miles long. The air force might not be able to find every site, let alone destroy them all.

President Kennedy said: “And I guess any missiles remaining after our air strike would be fired at the USA immediately.”

“We would have to assume that, sir,” said Taylor.

The president looked bleak, and George had a sudden vivid sense of the dreadful weight of responsibility he bore. “Tell me this,” said Kennedy. “If one missile landed on a medium-size American city, how bad would that be?”

Election politics were driven from George’s mind, and once again his heart was chilled by the dreaded thought of nuclear war.

General Taylor conferred with his aides for a few moments, then turned back to the table. “Mr. President,” he said, “our calculation is that six hundred thousand people would die.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dimka’s mother, Anya, wanted to meet Nina. This surprised him. His relationship with Nina was exciting, and he slept with her every chance he got, but what did that have to do with his mother?

He put that to her, and she answered in tones of exasperation. “You were the cleverest boy in school, but you’re such a fool sometimes,” she said. “Listen. Every weekend that you’re not away somewhere with Khrushchev, you’re with this woman. Obviously she’s important. You’ve been seeing her for three months. Of course your mother wants to know what she’s like! How can you even ask?”

He supposed she was right. Nina was not just a date nor even merely a girlfriend. She was his lover. She had become part of his life.