*
For the first time in his adult life, Dimka had done something truly, indisputably, shamefully wrong.
He was not married to Nina, but she expected him to be faithful, and he assumed she was faithful to him; so there was no question that he had betrayed her trust by spending the night with Natalya.
He had thought it might be the last night of his life but, since it had not been, the excuse seemed feeble.
He had not had sexual intercourse with Natalya, but that, too, was a lousy excuse. What they had done was, if anything, even more intimate and loving than regular sex. He felt wretchedly guilty. Never before had he seen himself as untrustworthy, dishonest, and unreliable.
His friend Valentin would probably handle this situation by cheerfully carrying on affairs with both women until he was found out. Dimka did not even consider that option. He felt bad enough after one night of deception: he could not possibly do it on a regular basis. He would end up throwing himself in the Moskva river.
He had to either tell Nina, or break up with her, or both. He could not live with such a mammoth deception. But he found that he was scared. This was ludicrous. He was Dmitriy Ilich Dvorkin, hatchet man to Khrushchev, hated by some, feared by many. How could he be afraid of a girl? But he was.
And what about Natalya?
He had a hundred questions for Natalya. He wanted to know how she felt about her husband. Dimka knew nothing about him except his name, Nik. Was she getting divorced? If so, did the breakdown of the marriage have anything to do with Dimka? Most importantly, did Natalya see Dimka playing any role in her future?
He kept seeing her around the Kremlin, but there was no chance for them to be alone. The Presidium met three times on Tuesday – morning, afternoon and evening – and the aides were even busier during the meal breaks. Each time Dimka looked at Natalya she seemed more wonderful. He was still wearing the suit he had slept in, as were all the men, but Natalya had changed into a dark-blue dress with a matching jacket that made her look both authoritative and alluring at the same time. Dimka had trouble concentrating on the meetings, even though their task was to prevent World War Three. He would gaze at her, remember what they had done to one another, and look away in embarrassment; then, a minute later, he would stare at her again.
But the pace of work was so intense that he was not able to talk privately to her even for a few seconds.
Khrushchev went home to his own bed late on Tuesday night, so everyone else did the same. First thing on Wednesday, Dimka gave Khrushchev the glad news – hot from his sister in Cuba – that the Aleksandrovsk had docked safely at La Isabela. The rest of the day was equally busy. He saw Natalya constantly, but neither of them had a minute to spare.
By this time Dimka was asking himself questions. What did he think Monday night meant? What did he want in the future? If any of them were alive in a week’s time, did he want to spend the rest of his life with Natalya, or Nina – or neither?
By Thursday, he was desperate for some answers. He felt, irrationally, that he did not want to be killed in a nuclear war before he had resolved this.
He had a date with Nina that evening: they were to go to a movie with Valentin and Anna. If he could get away from the Kremlin, and keep the date, what would he say to Nina?
The morning Presidium normally began at ten, so the aides got together informally at eight in the Onilova Room. On Thursday morning, Dimka had a new proposal from Khrushchev to put to the others. Dimka was also hoping for a private talk with Natalya. He was about to approach her when Yevgeny Filipov appeared with the early editions of the European newspapers. ‘The front pages are all equally bad,’ he said. He was pretending to be distraught with grief, but Dimka knew he was feeling the opposite. ‘The turning back of our ships is portrayed as a humiliating climbdown by the Soviet Union!’
He was hardly exaggerating, Dimka saw, looking at the papers spread on the cheap modern tables.
Natalya sprang to Khrushchev’s defence. ‘Of course they say that,’ she countered. ‘All those newspapers are owned by capitalists. Did you expect them to praise our leader’s wisdom and restraint? How naive are you?’
‘How naive are you? The London Times, the Italian Corriere della Sera, and Le Monde of Paris – these are the papers read and believed by the leaders of the Third World countries whom we hope to win to our side.’
That was true. Unfair though it was, people around the world trusted the capitalist press more than Communist publications.
Natalya replied: ‘We cannot decide our foreign policy based on the probable reactions of Western newspapers.’
‘This operation was supposed to be top secret,’ Filipov said. ‘Yet the Americans found out about it. We all know who was responsible for security.’ He meant Dimka. ‘Why is that person sitting at this table? Should he not be under interrogation?’
Dimka said: ‘Army security may be to blame.’ Filipov worked for the defence minister. ‘When we know how the secret got out, then we will be able to decide who should be interrogated.’ It was feeble, he knew, but he still had no idea what had gone wrong.
Filipov changed his tack. ‘At this morning’s Presidium, the KGB will report that the Americans have massively stepped up their mobilization in Florida. The railroad tracks are jammed with railcars carrying tanks and artillery. The racetrack in Hallandale has been taken over by the 1st Armoured Division, thousands of men sleeping in the grandstands. Ammunition factories are working twenty-four hours a day producing bullets for their planes to strafe Soviet and Cuban troops. Napalm bombs—’
Natalya interrupted him. ‘This, too, was expected.’
‘But what will we do when they invade Cuba?’ Filipov said. ‘If we respond using only conventional weapons, we cannot win: the Americans are too strong. Will we respond with nuclear weapons? President Kennedy has stated that if one nuclear weapon is launched from Cuba he will bomb the Soviet Union.’
‘He cannot mean it,’ said Natalya.
‘Read the reports from Red Army Intelligence. The American bombers are circling us now!’ He pointed at the ceiling, as if they might look up and see the planes. ‘There are only two possible outcomes for us: international humiliation, if we’re lucky, and nuclear death if we’re not.’
Natalya fell silent. No one around the table had an answer to that.
Except Dimka.
‘Comrade Khrushchev has a solution,’ he said.
They all looked at him in surprise.
He went on: ‘At this morning’s meeting, the First Secretary will propose making an offer to the United States.’ There was dead silence. ‘We will dismantle our missiles in Cuba—’
He was interrupted by a chorus of reaction around the table, from gasps of surprise to cries of protest. He held up a hand for quiet.
‘We will dismantle our missiles in exchange for a guarantee of what we have wanted all along. The Americans must promise not to invade Cuba.’
They took a few moments to digest this.
Natalya was the quickest to get it. ‘This is brilliant,’ she said. ‘How can Kennedy refuse? He would be admitting his intention to invade a poor Third World country. He would be universally condemned for colonialism. And he would be proving our point that Cuba needs nuclear missiles to defend itself.’ She was the smartest person at the table, as well as the prettiest.
Filipov said: ‘But if Kennedy accepts, we have to bring the missiles home.’
‘They will no longer be necessary!’ Natalya said. ‘The Cuban revolution will be safe.’
Dimka could see that Filipov wanted to argue against this, but could not. Khrushchev had got the Soviet Union into a fix, but he had devised an honourable way out.
When the meeting broke up, Dimka at last managed to grab Natalya. ‘We need a minute to discuss the wording of Khrushchev’s offer to Kennedy,’ he said.
They retreated to a corner of the room and sat down. He gazed at the front of her dress, remembering her little breasts with their pointed nipples.
She said: ‘You have to stop staring at me.’
He felt foolish. ‘I wasn’t staring at you,’ he said, though it was obviously not true.
She ignored that. ‘If you keep it up even the men will notice.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help it.’ Dimka was downcast. This was not the intimate, happy conversation he had foreseen.
‘No one must know what we did.’ She looked scared.
Dimka felt as if he were talking to a different person from the cheerfully sexy girl who had seduced him only the day before yesterday. He said: ‘Well, I’m not planning to go around telling people, but I didn’t know it was a state secret.’
‘I’m married!’
‘Are you planning to stay with Nik?’
‘What kind of question is that?’
‘Do you have any children?’
‘No.’
‘People get divorced.’
‘My husband would never agree to a divorce.’
Dimka stared at her. Obviously, that was not the end of the matter: a woman might get a divorce against her husband’s will. But this discussion was not really about the legal situation. Natalya was in some kind of panic. Dimka said: ‘Why did you do it, anyway?’
‘I thought we were all going to die!’
‘And now you regret it?’
‘I’m married!’ she said again.
That did not answer his question, but he guessed he was not going to get any more from her.
Boris Kozlov, another of Khrushchev’s aides, called across the canteen: ‘Dimka! Come on!’
Dimka stood up. ‘Can we talk again soon?’ he murmured.
Natalya looked down and said nothing.
Boris said: ‘Dimka, let’s go!’
He left.
The Presidium discussed Khrushchev’s proposal for most of the day. There were complications. Would the Americans insist on inspecting the launch sites to verify that they had been deactivated? Would Castro accept inspection? Would Castro promise not to accept nuclear weapons from any other source, for example from China? Still Dimka thought it represented the best hope of peace yet.
Meanwhile, Dimka thought about Nina and Natalya. Before this morning’s conversation, he had thought it was up to him which of the two women he wanted. He now realized he had deluded himself into thinking the choice was his to make.
Natalya was not going to leave her husband.
He realized he was crazy for Natalya in a way he had never been for Nina. Every time there was a tap on his office door he hoped it was Natalya. In his memory he replayed their time together over and over, obsessively hearing again everything she said, up to the unforgettable words: ‘Oh, Dimka, I adore you.’
It was not I love you, but it was close.
But she would not get a divorce.
All the same, Natalya was the one he wanted.
That meant he had to tell Nina their affair was over. He could not carry on an affair with a girl he liked second best: it would be dishonest. In his imagination he could hear Valentin mocking his scruples, but he could not help them.