Kostiashak leaned forward and helped himself to a Swiss chocolate from a tray on the coffee table. "I ask that you judge my conduct not as an act of simple ambition, but as a calculated move in a broader context."
The President's drill-sergeant face gave him a sour look, "What broader context?"
"Your country and mine, Mr. President, have been prisoners on an inexorable treadmill from which we have been unable to escape. Like a dog chasing its tail, the faster we chase, the more frustrating it becomes."
"I take it you mean the arms race?" said the Vice President.
"Correct," replied the Ukrainian.
"If you want to know who is responsible for the arms race, General Secretary," said the President with irony in his voice, "you have only to look in the mirror."
Kostiashak shrugged. "Mr. President, you and I can waste a great deal of time pointing fingers at each other. While it is true that the Soviet Union has spent vast sums on the military, you should be mindful that we have been invaded twice in this century by aggressors — and we lost twenty million souls in the Great Patriotic War. Had that happened in America, your perspective might be different."
The President harrumphed. "Be that as it may, what are you getting at?"
Kostiashak unwrapped the chocolate. "Mr. President, I am a devoted Communist. Although I was educated in your country, I totally reject your weak and decadent system of commercial exploitation. However, I am also a pragmatist, and my education demonstrated to me that your country has certain strengths and attributes that the Soviet Union cannot match."
"No shit," observed the President.
The Ukrainian ignored the comment. "When you achieved your technological breakthrough in space defenses, I knew that the Soviet Union could not compete in that arena. My years at Princeton taught me this. The race to the moon taught me this. Trying to compete with the United States head to head in advanced technology was folly. No matter how many or our resources we applied to the effort, I knew we would always be a few steps behind. The playing field, as your expression goes, was not level." Kostiashak looked into the fire. "Unfortunately, the Soviet leadership which had been entrenched for some time-particularly the military — did not have the benefit of my Princeton experience, and my understanding of American culture. They reacted to your technological breakthrough in typical Russian fashion, born out of two invasions oh our soil in this century — as I have pointed out. The Politburo and the military reacted with enormous additional space research expenditures, as well as enormous expenditures for space vehicles. General Secretary Gorbachev was unable to quell these conservative forces, which rallied around an unholy alliance of GOSPLAN Minister Vorontsky, Defense Minister Zholobov, and the Foreign Minister. Even if he had lived and remained in power, Gorbachev would have found himself a prisoner of that troika of conservative forces. But Gorbachev was killed, Vorontsky seized power, and the military spending binge continued unabated. The Politburo fell into the firm grip of the militarists.
"In any case," he continued, "these increased space defense costs, on top of our expenditures to reinvade Afghanistan, were particularly onerous. Our defense budget as a percent of gross national product climbed to twenty-seven percent. I believe yours remains at six percent."
"Six and a half," corrected the President.
"Six and a half,'' echoed the Ukrainian softly as he continued to gaze into the fire. "My country was caught in an impossible situation. We could not match you technologically, and we could not afford the combination of space defense research, the war in Afghanistan, and the maintenance of our laige conventional forces. The fabric of our society was starting to crumble. Mothers could not feed their children." The Ukrainian turned to face the American. "Yet in spite of all this, you did the most stupid thing."
The President sat up straight. "And what was that?"
"You refused to negotiate any limits on space weapons."
The President almost laughed. "General Secretary, if you think I'm going to buy some type of bleeding-heart story — from you, of all people — intended to get me to negotiate away our space defense shield, you've got it all wrong. The United States will never negotiate from a position of weakness. My country has had a consistent policy that it will develop and deploy our Strategic Defense System. It has been developed, and we are deploying. So much for your Princeton education. You have totally misread us."
Kostiashak took a very long drag on his Pall Mall and exhaled ever so slowly. He then looked at the American for some moments before saying, in his viper's voice, "It is you, Mr. President, who have misread your adversary."
The Ukrainian's tone was unsettling, causing the President's drill-sergeant face to start twitching. "How so?" he asked cautiously.
"You are wise to negotiate from a strong position, Mr. President. We Soviets admire strength. For us, it is a virtue, and to deal with someone who is strong evokes our respect. Unfortunately, your technological breakthrough has done more than evoke feelings of respect. It has brought out feelings of genuine terror — of deep vulnerability. I can tell you categorically that unless you and I reach an accord that will limit your space defense deployment, you will thrust the Soviet Union into an act of desperation."
The President scowled. "The Soviet Union has nothing to fear from a defensive weapon system," he said flady.
"That is entirely wrong," said the Ukrainian in an analytical voice. "It is our perception that a protective space shield over your ballistic missiles creates an imbalance. It destroys the balance of power — what you refer to as MAD, or Mutual Assured Destruction. If you launched your missiles in a first strike, we would be unable to retaliate effectively. And Russia will not allow itself to become vulnerable again—ever. If you continue to prosecute your deployment of a space defense platform, I would be unable to halt our defense spending, yet I still could not match you technologically. You would leave me with no choice but to embark upon an… unprecedented act." The Ukrainian fell silent.
"And what is this 'unprecedented act' you refer to?" queried the Vice President.
The General Secretary reached into his Gucci leather attache case and withdrew a file. From the manila folder he extracted a color photograph and placed it on the coffee table. It was a picture of Red Square, with the Kremlin's onion domes in the background. In the foreground was a KGB major standing next to a simple 55-gallon oil drum, which was painted a bright red, white, and blue.
The two Americans looked at the picture. "So?" asked the President.
Kostiashak pulled out a second photograph. The same KGB major was now in civilian clothes, standing in front of a Ford van with the panel door open. Inside the van was the same red-white-and-blue 55-gallon drum. But the onion domes of the Kremlin were no longer present. Instead, the background of the photograph clearly showed the White House.
The President's neck hairs rose up. "What are you trying to prove?" he asked sharply.
The Ukrainian adjusted his silk tie. "It is amazing how small nuclear weapons can be made these days. Even thermonuclear deuterium-tritium weapons in the fifty-kiloton range. They can be reduced to the size of an ordinary oil drum." The General Secretary sighed. "You Americans pride yourselves on having such 'open' borders and unrestricted travel within your territories. So be it. That is your choice. But I can tell you that your borders are pitifully porous. South American drug merchants smuggle in illicit cargo by the ton, do they not? And you are powerless to stop them. The oil drum you see pictured here was unloaded from a commercial vessel in the Mexican harbor of Veracruz, then flown by private plane to a desert landing strip in your state of Utah. It was then transported by this van to the tourist parking area near your residence, Mr. President… No one lifted a finger to stop my agent. In fact, a courteous highway patrolman in your state of Nebraska assisted him when his vehicle suffered a tire puncture."