The morning Presidium normally began at ten, so the aides got together informally at eight in the Onilova Room. On Thursday morning Dimka had a new proposal from Khrushchev to put to the others. He was also hoping for a private talk with Natalya. He was about to approach her when Yevgeny Filipov appeared with the early editions of the European newspapers. “The front pages are all equally bad,” he said. He was pretending to be distraught with grief, but Dimka knew he was feeling the opposite. “The turning back of our ships is portrayed as a humiliating climb-down by the Soviet Union!”

He was hardly exaggerating, Dimka saw, looking at the papers spread on the cheap modern tables.

Natalya sprang to Khrushchev’s defense. “Of course they say that,” she countered. “All those newspapers are owned by capitalists. Did you expect them to praise our leader’s wisdom and restraint? How naïve are you?”

“How naïve are you? The London Times, the Italian Corriere della Sera, and Le Monde of Paris—these are the papers read and believed by the leaders of the Third World countries whom we hope to win to our side.”

That was true. Unfair though it was, people around the world trusted the capitalist press more than Communist publications.

Natalya replied: “We cannot decide our foreign policy based on the probable reactions of Western newspapers.”

“This operation was supposed to be top secret,” Filipov said. “Yet the Americans found out about it. We all know who was responsible for security.” He meant Dimka. “Why is that person sitting at this table? Should he not be under interrogation?”

Dimka said: “Army security may be to blame.” Filipov worked for the defense minister. “When we know how the secret got out, then we will be able to decide who should be interrogated.” It was feeble, he knew, but he still had no idea what had gone wrong.

Filipov changed his tack. “At this morning’s Presidium, the KGB will report that the Americans have massively stepped up their mobilization in Florida. The railroad tracks are jammed with railcars carrying tanks and artillery. The racetrack in Hallandale has been taken over by the 1st Armored Division, thousands of men sleeping in the grandstands. Ammunition factories are working twenty-four hours a day producing bullets for their planes to strafe Soviet and Cuban troops. Napalm bombs—”

Natalya interrupted him. “This, too, was expected.”

“But what will we do when they invade Cuba?” Filipov said. “If we respond using only conventional weapons, we cannot win: the Americans are too strong. Will we respond with nuclear weapons? President Kennedy has stated that if one nuclear weapon is launched from Cuba he will bomb the Soviet Union.”

“He cannot mean it,” said Natalya.

“Read the reports from Red Army Intelligence. The American bombers are circling us now!” He pointed at the ceiling, as if they might look up and see the planes. “There are only two possible outcomes for us: international humiliation, if we’re lucky, and nuclear death if we’re not.”