Kotya, the sixteen-year-old boy, spoke up. “Why do the Americans have more missiles than we do?”

Zoya answered: “When we scientists began to work on nuclear energy, back in 1940, and we told the government that it could be used to create a super-powerful bomb, Stalin did not believe us. So the West got ahead of the USSR, and they’re still ahead. That’s what happens when governments don’t listen to scientists.”

Volodya added: “But don’t repeat what your mother says when you go to school, okay?”

Anya said: “Who cares? Stalin killed half of us, now Khrushchev will kill the other half.”

“Anya!” protested Volodya. “Not in front of the children!”

“I feel for Tanya,” said Anya, ignoring her brother’s remonstrances. “Over there in Cuba, waiting for the Americans to attack.” She began to weep. “I wish I could have seen my pretty little girl again,” she said, sudden tears streaming down her cheeks. “Just once more, before we die.”

• • •

By Saturday morning the U.S. was ready to attack Cuba.

Larry Mawhinney gave George the details in the basement Situation Room at the White House. President Kennedy called this area a pigpen, because he found it cramped; but he had been raised in grand spacious homes: the suite was larger than George’s apartment.

According to Mawhinney, the air force had five hundred seventy-six planes at five different bases ready for the air strike that would turn Cuba into a smoking wasteland. The army had mobilized one hundred fifty thousand troops for the invasion that would follow. The navy had twenty-six destroyers and three aircraft carriers circling the island nation. Mawhinney said all this proudly, as if it were his own personal achievement.

George thought Mawhinney was too glib. “None of that will be any use against nuclear missiles,” George said.

“Fortunately, we have nukes of our own,” Mawhinney replied.

Like that made everything all right.

“How do we fire them, exactly?” said George. “I mean, what does the president do, physically?”

“He has to call the Joint War Room at the Pentagon. His phone in the Oval Office has a red button that connects him instantly.”

“And what would he say?”

“He has a black leather briefcase containing a set of codes that he has to use. The briefcase goes everywhere with him.”

“And then . . . ?”

“It’s automatic. There’s a program called the Single Integrated Operational Plan. Our bombers and missiles take off with about three thousand nuclear weapons, and head for a thousand targets in the Communist bloc.” Mawhinney made a flattening motion with his hand. “Wipe them out,” he said with relish.

George was not buying this attitude. “And they do the same to us.”

Mawhinney looked annoyed. “Listen, if we get the first punch in, we can destroy most of their weapons before they get off the ground.”

“But we’re not likely to get the first punch in, because we’re not barbarians, and we don’t want to start a nuclear war that would kill millions.”