“What about handing over control of the missiles to Castro?” said Khrushchev.

Dimka had heard his boss say some crazy things, especially during hypothetical discussions, but this was irresponsible even by his standards. What was he thinking?

“May I counsel against?” said Mikoyan mildly. “The Americans know that we don’t want nuclear war, and as long as we control the weapons they will try to solve this problem by diplomacy. But they will not trust Castro. If they know he has his finger on the trigger they may try to destroy all the missiles in Cuba with one massive first strike.”

Khrushchev accepted that, but he was not prepared to rule out nuclear weapons altogether. “That would mean the Americans can have Cuba back!” he said indignantly.

At that point, Alexei Kosygin spoke up. He was Khrushchev’s closest ally, though ten years younger. His receding hair had left a gray quiff on top of his head like the prow of a ship. He had the red face of a drinker, but Dimka thought he was the smartest man in the Kremlin. “We should not be thinking about when to use nuclear weapons,” Kosygin said. “If we get to that point, we will have failed catastrophically. The question to discuss is this: What moves can we make today to ensure that the situation does not deteriorate into nuclear war?”

Thank God, Dimka thought; someone talking sense at last.

Kosygin went on: “I propose that General Pliyev be authorized to defend Cuba by all means short of nuclear weapons.”

Malinovsky had doubts, fearing that U.S. intelligence might somehow learn of this order; but despite his reservations the proposal was agreed on, to Dimka’s great relief, and the message was sent. The danger of a nuclear holocaust still loomed, but at least the Presidium was focused on avoiding a war rather than fighting it.

Soon afterward, Vera Pletner looked into the room and beckoned Dimka. He slipped out. In the broad corridor she handed him six sheets of paper. “This is Kennedy’s speech,” she said quietly.

“Thank heaven!” He looked at his watch. It was one fifteen A.M., forty-five minutes before the American president was due to go on television. “How did we get this?”

“The American government kindly provided our Washington embassy with advance copies, and the Foreign Ministry has quickly translated it.”

Standing in the corridor, alone but for Vera, Dimka read fast. “This government, as promised, has maintained the closest surveillance of the Soviet military buildup on the island of Cuba.”

Kennedy called Cuba an island, Dimka noticed, as if it did not count as a real country.

“Within the past week, unmistakable evidence has established the fact that a series of offensive missile sites is now in preparation on that imprisoned island.”

Evidence, Dimka thought; what evidence?

“The purpose of these bases can be none other than to provide a nuclear strike capability against the Western Hemisphere.”

Dimka read on but, infuriatingly, Kennedy did not say how he had come by the information, whether from traitors or spies, in the Soviet Union or Cuba, or by some other means. Dimka still did not know whether this crisis was his fault.