Kennedy made much of Soviet secrecy, calling it deception. That was fair, Dimka thought; Khrushchev would have made the same accusation in the reverse situation. But what was the American president going to do? Dimka skipped pages until he came to the important part.

“First, to halt this offensive buildup, a strict quarantine on all offensive military equipment under shipment to Cuba is being initiated.”

Ah, Dimka thought; a blockade. That was against international law, which was why Kennedy was calling it a quarantine, as if he were combating some plague.

“All ships of any kind bound for Cuba from whatever nation or port will, if found to contain cargoes of offensive weapons, be turned back.”

Dimka saw immediately that this was just a preliminary. The quarantine would make no difference: most of the missiles were already in place and nearly ready to be fired—and Kennedy must know that, if his intelligence was as good as it seemed. The blockade was symbolic.

There was also a threat. “It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile, launched from Cuba, against any nation in the Western Hemisphere, as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.”

Dimka felt as if something cold and heavy had settled in his stomach. This was a terrible threat. Kennedy would not trouble to find out whether the missile had been launched by the Cubans or the Red Army; it was all the same to him. Nor would he care what the target was. If they bombed Chile it would be the same as bombing New York.

Any time one of Dimka’s nukes was fired, the USA would turn the Soviet Union into a radioactive desert.

Dimka saw in his mind the picture everyone knew, the mushroom cloud of a nuclear bomb; and in his imagination it rose over the center of Moscow, where the Kremlin and his home and every familiar building lay in ruins, and scorched corpses floated like a hideous scum on the poisoned water of the Moskva River.

Another sentence caught his eye. “It is difficult to settle or even discuss these problems in an atmosphere of intimidation.” The hypocrisy of the Americans took Dimka’s breath away. What was Operation Mongoose if not intimidation?

It was Mongoose that had persuaded a reluctant Presidium to send the missiles in the first place. Dimka was beginning to suspect that aggression was self-defeating in international politics.

He had read enough. He went back into the Presidium Room, walked quickly up to Khrushchev, and handed him the sheaf of papers. “Kennedy’s television speech,” he said, clearly enough for everyone to hear. “An advance copy, provided by the USA.”

Khrushchev snatched the papers and began to read. The room fell silent. There was no point in saying anything until they knew what was in the document.

Khrushchev took his time reading the formal, abstract language. Now and again he snorted with derision or grunted with surprise. As he progressed through the pages, Dimka sensed that his mood was changing from anxiety to relief.