“I’ll start calling people,” she said.

“You have the numbers at your home?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. Thank you. I’ll be at the office in a few minutes.” He hung up.

They were all staring at him. They had heard him say “Good evening, comrade First Secretary.” Grandfather looked proud, Grandmother and Mother were concerned, and Nina had a gleam of excitement in her eye. “I’ve got to go to work,” Dimka said unnecessarily.

Grandfather said: “What’s the emergency?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Grandfather patted him on the shoulder and looked sentimental. “With men such as you and my son, Volodya, in charge, I know the revolution is safe.”

Dimka was tempted to say he wished he felt so confident. Instead he said: “Grandfather, will you get an army car to take Nina home?”

“Of course.”

“Sorry to break up the party . . .”

“Don’t worry,” said Grandfather. “Your work is more important. Go, go.”

Dimka put on his coat, kissed Nina, and left.

Going down in the elevator, he wondered despairingly whether he had somehow let out the secret of the Cuban missiles, despite all his efforts. He had run the entire operation with formidable security. He had been brutally efficient. He had been a tyrant, punishing mistakes severely, humiliating fools, ruining the careers of men who failed to follow orders meticulously. What more could he have done?

Outside, a nighttime rehearsal was in progress for the military parade scheduled for Revolution Day, in two weeks’ time. An endless line of tanks, artillery, and soldiers rumbled along the embankment of the Moskva River. None of this will do us any good if there’s a nuclear war, he thought. The Americans did not know it, but the Soviet Union had few nuclear weapons, nowhere near the numbers the USA had. The Soviets could hurt the Americans, yes, but the Americans could wipe the Soviet Union off the face of the earth.

As the road was blocked by the procession, and the Kremlin was less than a mile away, Dimka left his motorcycle at home and walked.

The Kremlin was a triangular fortress on the north side of the river. Within were several palaces now converted to government buildings. Dimka went to the senate building, yellow with white pillars, and took the elevator to the third floor. He followed a red carpet along a high-ceilinged corridor to Khrushchev’s office. The first secretary had not yet arrived. Dimka went two doors farther along to the Presidium Room. Fortunately, it was clean and tidy.

The Presidium of the Supreme Soviet was in practice the ruling body of the Soviet Union. Khrushchev was its chairman. This was where the power lay. What would Khrushchev do?

Dimka was first, but soon Presidium members and their aides began to trickle in. No one knew what Kennedy was going to say. Yevgeny Filipov arrived with his boss, Defense Minister Rodion Malinovsky. “This is a fuckup,” Filipov said, hardly able to hide his glee. Dimka ignored him.