“All right.”

They parted and Dimka went to Khrushchev’s office. The first secretary was reading translations of Western newspaper articles, each one stapled to the original clipping. “Have you read Walter Lippmann’s article?”

Lippmann was a syndicated American columnist of liberal views. He was said to be close to President Kennedy.

“No.” Dimka had not yet looked at the papers.

“Lippmann proposes a swap: we withdraw our missiles from Cuba, and they remove theirs from Turkey. It’s a message to me from Kennedy!”

“Lippmann is only a journalist—”

“No, no. He’s a mouthpiece for the president.”

Dimka doubted that American democracy worked that way, but he said nothing.

Khrushchev went on: “It means that if we propose this swap, Kennedy will accept.”

“But we have already demanded something different—their promise not to invade Cuba.”

“So, we will keep Kennedy guessing!”

We’ll certainly keep him confused, Dimka thought. But that was Khrushchev’s way. Why be consistent? It only made life easier for the enemy.

Dimka changed the subject. “There will be questions at the Presidium about Pliyev’s message. Giving him the power to fire nuclear weapons—”

“Don’t worry,” said Khrushchev with a deprecating wave. “The Americans are not going to attack now. They’re even talking to the United Nations general secretary. They want peace.”

“Of course,” said Dimka deferentially. “So long as you know it’s going to come up.”

“Yes, yes.”

The leaders of the Soviet Union gathered in the paneled Presidium Room a few minutes later. Khrushchev opened the meeting with a long speech arguing that the time for an American attack had passed. Then he raised what he called the Lippmann Proposal. There was little enthusiasm for it around the long table, but no one opposed him. Most people realized the leader had to conduct diplomacy in his own style.

Khrushchev was so excited about the new idea that he dictated his letter to Kennedy there and then, while the others listened. Then he ordered that it should be read out on Radio Moscow. That way the American embassy here could forward it to Washington without the time-consuming chore of encoding it.

Finally Kosygin raised the issue of Pliyev’s flash. He argued that control of nuclear weapons must remain in Moscow, and read out the order to Pliyev that Dimka and Natalya had drafted.

“Yes, yes, send it,” said Khrushchev impatiently; and Dimka breathed easier.

An hour later Dimka was with Nina, going up in the elevator at Government House. “Let’s try to forget our woes for a while,” he said to her. “We won’t talk about Cuba. We’re going to a party. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

“That suits me,” Nina said.

They went to the apartment of Dimka’s grandparents. Katerina opened the door in a red dress. Dimka was startled to see that it was knee length, in the latest Western fashion, and that his grandmother still had slim legs. She had lived in the West, while her husband was on the diplomatic circuit, and she had learned to dress more stylishly than most Soviet women.