“Probably just propaganda,” said Dimka. He sat down.

“Let’s draft a reply to Pliyev,” she said, and opened a notebook.

Chewing, Dimka concentrated on the issue. “The Presidium should forbid Pliyev to launch nuclear weapons without specific orders from Moscow.”

“I’d rather forbid him even to mount the warheads on the rockets. Then they can’t be fired by accident.”

“Good thinking.”

Yevgeny Filipov came into the room. He was wearing a brown pullover under a gray suit jacket. Dimka said: “Good morning, Filipov, have you come to apologize to me?”

“For what?”

“You accused me of allowing the secret of our Cuban missiles to leak out. You even said I should be arrested. Now we know the missiles were photographed by a spy plane of the CIA. Obviously you owe me a groveling apology.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Filipov blustered. “We didn’t think their high-altitude photographs would show something as small as a missile. What are you two plotting?”

Natalya answered with the truth. “We’re discussing this morning’s flash message from Pliyev.”

“I’ve already spoken to Malinovsky about it.” Filipov worked for Defense Minister Malinovsky. “He is in agreement with Pliyev.”

Dimka was horrified. “Pliyev can’t be allowed to start World War Three on his own initiative!”

“He won’t be starting it. He’ll be defending our troops from American aggression.”

“The level of response can’t be a local decision.”

“There may be no time for anything else.”

“Pliyev must make time, rather than trigger a nuclear exchange.”

“Malinovsky believes we must protect the weapons we have in Cuba. If they were destroyed by the Americans, it would weaken our ability to defend the USSR.”

Dimka had not thought of that. A significant part of the Soviet nuclear stockpile was now in Cuba. The Americans could wipe out all those costly weapons, leaving the Soviets seriously weakened.

“No,” said Natalya. “Our whole strategy must be based on not using nuclear weapons. Why? Because we have so few, by comparison with the American arsenal.” She leaned forward across the canteen table. “Listen to me, Yevgeny. If it comes to all-out nuclear war, they win.” She sat back. “So we may brag, we may bluster, we may threaten, but we may not fire our weapons. For us, nuclear war is suicide.”

“That’s not how the Defense Ministry sees it.”

Natalya hesitated. “You speak as if a decision has already been made.”

“It has. Malinovsky has endorsed Pliyev’s proposal.”

Dimka said: “Khrushchev won’t like that.”

“On the contrary,” said Filipov. “He agreed with it.”

Dimka realized he had missed out on early-morning discussions because he had been up so late last night. That put him at a disadvantage. He stood up. “Let’s go,” he said to Natalya.

They left the cafeteria. Waiting for the elevator, Dimka said: “Damn. We’ve got to reverse that decision.”

“I’m sure Kosygin will want to raise it at the Presidium today.”

“Why don’t you type the order we drafted and suggest Kosygin brings it to the meeting? I’ll try to soften Khrushchev up.”