"What of Italy and the missiles in Turkey?" Sergei asked. "When are we planning to remove those? The Party is anxious for answers."
Khrushchev nodded and rubbed his chin. "We will scare the hell out of Kennedy with our Cuba deployment. He cannot allow Soviet Luna missiles ninety miles from Florida. So, when tensions are the highest, we will negotiate the removal of our weapons in Cuba to remove his weapons from Italy and Turkey. Then we are back to detente."
"May I carry this plan back to the leadership?"
Khrushchev thumped the top of his desk, and an inkwell jumped. "Definitely not! Let those beggars suffer in silence. Give them none of this. Not even to Andréa do you repeat our conversation."
"I know that. My wife knows nothing of what I do. She prefers it that way with her flowers and her clubs."
"But we know this failed Catholic, this Kennedy fellow with his half-hearted invasion of Cuba at the Bay of Pigs. That ridiculous effort was nothing more than a college boy's attempt at getting serious attention from his girlfriend. I believe it was Marilyn Monroe who challenged him."
Sergei disagreed with his father's assessment—whimsical as it was—but he couldn't say so. While he was the Premier's son, he was held accountable by his father for his actions and words.
41
On September 12, the Soviet Union publicly warned that a U.S. Attack on Cuba or Soviet ships carrying supplies to the island would mean war. But then the missiles were photographed from 40,000 feet lashed to the decks of the Soviet cargo ships. There was no mistake. Khrushchev was bringing missiles to Cuba. Soviet Ambassador to the United States, Anatoly Dorbrynin, received a thunderous phone call from UN Ambassador Adlai Stevenson.
“What in hell’s name are you thinking?” cried Stevenson. “This is a declaration of war!”
“Not at all,” Dorbrynin calmly replied. “The weapons are purely defensive. The United States has brought this on itself by its invasion at the Bay of Pigs. Rest assured, none of it is offensive.”
“This will not stand!” cried Stevenson.
“It already does. We have two-hundred ships, at least. A good third of them are warships. Nuclear submarines are protecting them even as we speak. We are very confident, Ambassador. Tell your President Kennedy this is no time to interfere. We are ready if he makes that mistake.”
Stevenson carried news of the conversation back to Kennedy, who was spending his days huddled in the situation room with his Chief of Staff, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of State, CIA Director, and a mix of admirals and generals.
“It is not a fait accompli,” Kennedy declared in a steady voice. “It will not stand.”
“Will we go to war?” asked McNamara, the Secretary of Defense. “The Pentagon is winding up.”
“It could happen, though I dread that,” Kennedy replied. “We will threaten, and we will blockade, but we will not invade Cuba. Another loss there and the West is lost to the Soviets. Plus, we all know the Soviets would use nukes against our troops. At that point, the world is lost forever.”
Attorney General Robert Kennedy was shaking his head. “It’s going to take more than words this time, Mr. President,” he said, straightening his club tie, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“All we have are words, Bobby. Words we can say and missiles we cannot use. It’s a strange time and a terrifying time. Americans are about to see the end of civilization roll up to their front doors and park. It is only a matter of days before we have to act.”
Said McNamara, “First, I’d like to know the efficiency of the missiles. Do we know what they even are?”
Kennedy nodded. “MI5 says they’re Lunas. The Soviet’s best and most powerful but also the most untested. They’ve never been tested with nukes on board.”
“Exactly,” McNamara continued. “So I need to know their efficiency. How are their guidance systems? What is their range? Are they intermediate-range or intercontinental? We need more data, Mr. President,” said McNamara with the wireframe glasses and the cool of an administrator running Ford Motor Company. “Before we do anything, we must have technical specifications.”
“Oleg Penkovsky’s data wasn’t enough?”
McNamara spread his hands. “He believes the guidance systems are corrupt. He also says their fueling systems are questionable. But we need more than that. We need to know their range. And we need to know troop size, type of troops, war machinery. We need to know the matériel coming across. Who do we have for that?”
Kennedy looked at CIA Director John McCone. “John,” he said, “care to address what resource we have?”
“The Brits have a source we know as ULYSSES,” McCone said, keeping the spy’s name under wraps. “We have reason to believe he’s a very high-up KGB officer. From what the Brits have been willing to share, this ULYSSES was involved in the Soviet’s war security apparatus some time ago. We predict he knows what’s headed our way.”
“Get him!” demanded Kennedy. “While you’re at it, you might tell the goddamn Brits we’re not mucking around here. I want this ULYSSES yesterday! Tell that to the PM!”
42
Back at London KGB, Anchev was having his problems. KGB Moscow was unhappy with his handling of the Lana situation. They secretly contacted Nikolai. Was he prepared to take over as rezident? He said he was, and he was ready for it to happen at any moment. But then KGB Moscow began dragging its feet. Out of the blue, KGB Moscow put the fear of God in Nikolai. They instructed him to return to Moscow for a rezidentura briefing on goals and expectations for the new rezident.
“This never happens,” Nikolai told Bolling at the safe house. “I fear for my mother. She goes to the gulag if I don’t return. I cannot see my own mother breaking rocks in Siberia. I have no choice.”
“TINKER is waiting in the wings,” Emma Magnuson reminded him needlessly. “If required.”
“Please, that’s not encouraging,” Nikolai said. “You know how I feel about my chances of escape from Russia.”
She did know. She didn’t push it again.
Bolling took the news back to Randall Cummings and Jason Donovan at MI5. Immediate worry set in, and a debate ensued. Cummings floated the idea it might be a trap, that Nikolai had been outed. Some of them thought Nikolai should defect now rather than risk being branded as a traitor and executed. Others thought it was worth the risk of going and receiving the promotion and return with unfettered resources. Both sides argued late into the night.
Meanwhile, Nikolai had made up his mind to return to Moscow; what MI5 had to say about it was irrelevant. He had all but convinced himself he was safe. The spying had taken place unimpeded and gone undiscovered by London KGB for far too long. It didn’t make sense that they were only now discovering his collaboration when he was taking over as rezident. Had they found out before, they would have acted. This was Nikolai’s ace in the hole, the logic from which he made his decision to follow orders and return to Moscow.
But, more importantly, he was going to try to convince his mother to move to Britain. At one point, the KGB would use her as leverage, but if she lived with him in the UK, it would be that much harder to get to her. He was going to leave Sasha behind with Carolina and Maxim. He only planned to fly in and be in Moscow for one day. No point in making Sasha do those long flights back to back. She’d be miserable.