The two Americans were speechless.
The diminutive Ukrainian's charm evaporated now, and his eyes turned hard. "If you continue with your SDI deployment, Mr. President, you give me no alternative but to find other means to deliver nuclear weapons. That would mean prepositioning weapons on your soil to circumvent your spacebome defensive shield. It would be a simple matter to park a genuine nuclear weapon by the White House, by the Pentagon, near major military bases, or in New York's Central Park."
"You wouldn't dare," said the President cautiously.
Kostiashak studiously toyed with the gold band of his Piaget watch. "Who is to say I have not done so already?"
The President shot out of his chair. "You couldn't have!"
The Ukrainian softened his tone, and the charm returned. "Of course not, Mr. President. I am only trying to demonstrate what could happen if you continue to push me into an impossible corner. I understand you are quite knowledgeable concerning automobiles, but have you learned nothing from history? Gunpowder defeated the bow and arrow. The machine gun defeated the cavalry. The tank defeated the machine gun. Air power defeated the tank. What made you think your Star Wars system could not be countered as well?"
The two Americans eyed each other. "So what's the bottom line?" asked the Vice President.
"Ah, a businessman," said Kostiashak as he crushed out his cigarette. "How fortunate. The 'bottom line,' as you say, is that if you are willing to halt the deployment of your Star Wars platform, I am in a position to make you a very attractive offer. Very attractive, indeed."
Both men cocked their heads forward. "Go ahead," said the President. "We're listening."
The Ukrainian spoke quickly. "I propose a moratorium on the space testing and deployment of any and all space weapons by both nations, but terrestrial research may continue to your heart's content. We will agree to cut strategic arms by fifty percent. Further, I am willing to reduce Warsaw pact conventional forces to a one-to-one ratio with NATO forces in soldiers, armored vehicles, aircraft, and artillery pieces. Any Soviet forces in excess of this one-to-one ratio will either be demobilized or withdrawn to positions east of the Ural Mountains. Soviet forces in Afghanistan will be withdrawn immediately under UN supervision, and Soviet support for liberation forces in Central America, Cuba, and Africa will be greatly reduced. Additionally, attractive joint-venture terms will be offered to American firms for development of natural resources in Siberia, and they will be permitted to repatriate their profits. Finally, all of these treaty elements will be offered with stringent, on-site verification terms."
The Vice President looked at him with disbelief. Warsaw Pact forces vastly outnumbered those of NATO. "A one-to-one ratio with NATO and a fifty percent strategic arms cut? You just told us that Gorbachev couldn't get a handle on your conservatives. Why should we believe you can make your military buy a deal like that?"
Kostiashak contemplated the fire once more before saying, "The conservative unholy alliance I spoke of is no longer operative, and I currently have some exceptional influence with the military. But unless we rapidly reach an accord, that influence will evaporate and new conservative forces will emerge."
The President looked at his Veep — the man who would soon be his successor — and said, "You know my feelings on SDI, but you're the President-elect. This is going to have to be your call. He could be deposed tomorrow," said the President, while pointing to the Ukrainian. "Then we'd be back to square one. And I don't like the feeling that we're being blackmailed."
Kostiashak unwrapped another chocolate. "I can assure you both that if we walk out of this room without striking a bargain, I will either be overthrown or forced to embark on a preposi-tioning strategy." He pointed at the photographs on the coffee table, then popped the chocolate in his mouth and rose from his chair. He approached the President-elect, who was standing by the fire. "I delayed this summit meeting until your election was past, Mr. Vice President, because I wanted to deal with someone who would be in office for a considerable time. You have my proposal, and I have outlined in crystal-clear terms the alternatives. I must halt my country's insane arms expenditures and redirect our resources to the civilian sector, but I am powerless to do so without an agreement limiting deployment of your space weapons. Believe me when I say I find the alternatives just as distasteful as you, if we do not reach an accord."
The Vice President picked up the poker and started stoking the fire again. Like the President, he was a businessman. But he was more of a historian than the former auto executive. While a student at West Point, the Vice President had carefully studied Operation Barbarossa—Hitler's ill-fated invasion of the Soviet Union — and he knew that when the Russians had their backs to the wall they'd fight harder than a band of Comanches. When the Wehrmacht panzers were rolling toward the Kremlin, the Russians had been willing to trade ten of their own lives to kill one German. A Russian respected strength, to be sure, but when cornered, a desperate Russian was a dangerous thing. Maybe too dangerous. Castrating the Soviets' nuclear arsenal with a space defense shield might push them past a deadly trigger point.
The President-elect gave the coals one last jab before placing the poker aside. He turned to the dark-skinned Ukrainian and asked, "No restriction on earthbound research?"
"No restriction on terrestrial research or testing," replied Kostiashak. "Only on deployment."
"A one-to-one ratio in Europe on conventional arms, a pull-out from Afghanistan, and a fifty percent cut in strategic arms?"
"A one-to-one ratio, a pullout, and a fifty percent cut," echoed the General Secretary.
"Stringent on-site verification?"
"Stringent on-site verification."
The American thought for a moment, then added, "Draconian verification?" Kostiashak nodded, and said, "Draconian verification." The President-elect brushed the soot from his fingers, then stuck out his hand and said, "Deal."
Epilogue
Comdr. Leroy Monaghan, United States Navy, was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor posthumously. He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors, along with Maj. Frank Mulcahey and Geraldo "Jerry" Rodriquez.
Posthumously, Col. Julian Kapuscinski was stripped of all military rank and decorations.
Of the twenty-three "seedling" couples that were planted on American soil by the Komisar Lavrenti Beria, three did not bear children. Of the remaining twenty couples: two of the offspring died young; twelve were simply assimilated into American society; three wound up in mental institutions, being unable to resolve the conflict between their environment and their parents' instructions; and three "took root." Of the three seedling offspring that took, one was Iceberg; one is currently a sergeant in a cable platoon at the U.S. Army Signal School at Fort Gordon, Georgia; and the last is an import/export official in the Department of Commerce in Washington. The two remaining seedling offspring show no particular promise, nor do they have access to highly classified material. Far and away, Iceberg was the star.
The new President was sworn in, and because of his conservative credentials, was able to get the new arms treaty through Congress. The NATO alliance — which once again included
France as a full military member — embraced the treaty like a long-lost grandchild, and it was with a sense of awe that Europeans watched Soviet troops withdraw from their long-held positions along the border and head east toward the Urals or demobilization. Mostly demobilization. Hundreds upon hundreds of ICBMs in the Soviet Union and the United States were yanked out of their silos and sent to the shredder. There were so many inspection teams crawling over the Russian landscape that one American sergeant quipped, "If a soldier in the Red Army farts, we can tell you what flavor borscht he had for dinner."