“Say that, brother.” George turned to Maria. “I can’t stay. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Lee said: “I’ll walk with you, if you’re going over to Justice.”

George avoided the company of newsmen, but he felt a camaraderie with Lee, who was trying to make it in white Washington just as George was, so he said: “Okay.”

Maria said: “Thanks for dropping by, Lee. Please call me if you need any clarification on that release.”

“Sure will,” he said.

George and Lee left the building and went along Pennsylvania Avenue. George said: “What’s in your press release?”

“Although the ships have turned around, the Soviets are still constructing missile launch sites in Cuba, and they’re doing it at top speed.”

George thought of the aerial reconnaissance photographs he had just seen. He was tempted to tell Lee about them. He would have liked to give a scoop to a young black reporter. However, it would have been a breach of security, and he resisted the impulse. “I guess that’s so,” he said noncommittally.

Lee said: “The administration seems to be doing nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“The quarantine is clearly ineffective, and the president isn’t doing anything else.”

George was stung. He was part of the administration, albeit a small part, and he felt unjustly accused. “In his television speech on Monday the president said the quarantine was just the beginning.”

“So he will be taking further action?”

“That’s obviously what he meant.”

“But what will he do?”

George smiled, realizing he was being pumped. “Watch this space,” he said.

When he got back to Justice, Bobby was in a rage. It was not Bobby’s way to yell and curse and throw objects across the room. His fury was cold and mean. People talked about his terrifying blue-eyed stare.

“Who’s he mad at?” George asked Dennis Wilson.

“Tim Tedder. He’s sent three infiltration teams into Cuba, six men to a team. More are waiting to go.”

“What? Why? Who told the CIA to do that?”

“It’s part of Operation Mongoose, and apparently no one told them to stop.”

“But they might start World War Three all on their own!”

“That’s why Bobby’s spitting nails. Also, they sent in a two-man team to blow up a copper mine—and, unfortunately, they’ve lost contact.”

“So those two guys are probably in jail now, drawing floor plans of the CIA station in Miami for their Soviet interrogators.”

“Yeah.”

“This is a stupid time to do that stuff for so many reasons,” George said. “Cuba’s preparing for war. Castro’s security is always good, but right now it must be on high alert.”

“Exactly. Bobby’s going to a Mongoose meeting at the Pentagon in a few minutes, and I expect he will nail Tedder to a cross.”

George did not go with Bobby to the Pentagon. He still was not invited to Mongoose meetings—somewhat to his relief: his trip to La Isabela had convinced him that the whole operation was criminal, and he wanted nothing more to do with it.