“A very serious charge, Bob,” Shevenko said slowly. “More serious because it is made in the presence of our mutual friends. What is the basis for such a charge?”
Wilson opened his attaché case and pulled out several eight by ten black and white photographs. He spread them out on the table in front of Shevenko.
“You can have two of these to take home with you. Take your pick. It’s not conjecture, Shevenko.”
The Russian studied the pictures. “What astounding clarity!” he said in a low voice. “At that depth!” He looked at Wilson and slowly slid two of the pictures over to one side. “I may have these? Thank you. I know of an admiral or two who are going to come down with a bad case of diarrhea when they see these pictures.” He raised his coffee cup and sipped slowly, his eyes steady on Wilson.
“Give me a reason for this insanity,” Wilson said.
“Between sane men there can be no reason, no rationale,” Shevenko answered. “I was against the operation from the beginning. I argued against it as long as it was politic for me to do so. We have as many fools in our Politburo and our military as you do in your Congress and Pentagon. Maybe more.”
“That’s no answer,” Wilson said.
“Because there is no answer,” Shevenko said. “No answer that will satisfy you or would satisfy me if I were sitting in your chair.” He shrugged his heavy shoulders.
“The only thing I can offer you is the truth, a rare commodity in our business but often useful. Your nuclear ballistic submarines, which you call a nuclear deterrent, are to us a nuclear threat. Our cities could be subjected to holocaust, a word our hosts know very well.”
“Doesn’t wash, Shevenko. Your side has nuclear ballistic missile submarines.”
“Of course,” Shevenko said. “But you don’t see through our eyes. We have the longest border in the world and most of it is landlocked, not available for submarine ports. We have only two major submarine ports, one in the north on the Kola Peninsula. In order to get to the Atlantic our submarines have to pass between Britain and Greenland.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled his thanks as Moise brought a hot pot of coffee from the sideboard.
“We know, my friend, that you have sown the bottom of the sea with listening devices so that you will know when one of our submarines makes the passage to the Atlantic and we know, as well, that you have mines laid so that if you wished you could blow our submarines up before they ever got to the open waters of the Atlantic.” His hands closed tightly around the heavy coffee mug.
“Over to the east we have our only other nuclear submarine base, at Petropavlovsk. There again, we know that as soon as one of our submarines heads for the open Pacific it must run the gauntlet of your listening devices and mines.
“You can understand, I think, that this has made our admirals paranoiac. Your nuclear missile submarines can roam the seas of the world without our knowledge of where they are. Ours cannot.”
“The weak point in that argument, Igor, is that you know damned well that we are never going to launch a nuclear attack against anyone.”
Shevenko shrugged. “I know that. I even believe it. But that is not the only thing that concerns our military leaders and our Politburo.
“Your president has started on a course that will lead to friendship between the United States and Mainland China.”
“Communist China,” Wilson interrupted.
“Mainland China. Those bastards are not Communists. But let’s not argue about semantics. Mainland China is not only dangerous to us but also to the rest of the world, a point that your president cannot seem to recognize.
“Some of the fools in our Navy developed a new torpedo. If you don’t know all about it I am sure our friends here do and will tell you if you ask. Like too many military men, yours and ours, they could not rest until they had tested this new torpedo under actual conditions.
“That is the truth of this madness, the only truth. I give you my word, which is good no matter what you happen to think.”
“Why did you argue against the operation. Don’t you share the same fears?”
“I am a realist, Bob. You know that. I argued against it because I can see the long range consequences. You might attack in retaliation. One for one and then two for two and then the nuclear holocaust we all fear if we are sane. We, you, would be burnt toast with no marmalade because if you strike first you cannot stop our counterstrike any more than we can stop your counterstrike if we were to attack first.” The eyelids over the hard blue eyes opened wide as Shevenko stared at Wilson.
“Our admirals have gambled that you would not respond. I am not so sure. Not even now, although when our good friend the doctor asked me to come here at once I reasoned that you wanted to talk instead of starting a war.”
“Don’t be too confident,” Wilson said.
“If you are foolish,” Shevenko said, “if a nuclear war does start who stands to gain? Peking. Only Peking. They would love to see us at each other’s throats with nuclear weapons. They would rule the world when the fires were out, as they will anyway in fifty years or less.
“So how do we avoid this? You would not have asked to meet me if you did not have some plan.”
“The people I am speaking for want Brezhnev to get on the hot line to the President,” Wilson said. “If he will do that and tell the President that a horrible tragedy has happened and that it was a terrible mistake maybe we can get out of this mess by covering up the cause of our submarine’s loss.”
“Does your president want Brezhnev to do this?”
“He doesn’t know anything about this, yet.”
“Leonid Brezhnev is a proud man, Bob. Your people are asking for a lot. I don’t know if I can do what you ask. You must have considered this angle and you must have an alternative.”
“Your submarine will be destroyed,” Wilson said.
“Tit for tat,” Shevenko murmured. “Once that happens there will be no easy way to stop it. I can try. But I may not be able to even see Leonid let alone sit down and talk about this matter.”
“You were able to talk to Khrushchev in Sixty-two,” Wilson said. “If I recall you had more to do with stopping that Cuban missile crisis than anyone.”
“Nikita was a shrewd peasant, a poker player. He knew when to throw in his hand. I don’t think Brezhnev plays poker. He is stubborn, very proud. You are asking him to humble himself.”
“Better to be humble than to be burnt toast.”
“And if he does listen to me, what sort of reparations will your president demand?”
“I don’t know if he will demand anything. Let them work that out.”
Shevenko sighed. “I will try, old friend. I will do my best. I will give you my word on that on the grave of my mother whose soul is now with God.”
“You toss His name around pretty loosely for a Communist, don’t you think? Isser almost choked when you said that.”
“My mother taught me well. She taught me that God forgives all sins. In my work I have had to do some things that even our hosts might consider sinful.” Isser Bernstein rolled his eyes upward and shook his head. Shevenko saw the gesture and smiled.
“The package your people took from me when I got into your car, Isser, could I have it now? Your bomb people have had time to open it and see what is inside.”
Moise Shemanski left the room and returned with a brown paper package tied with cord.
“Cuban cigars,” Shevenko said to Wilson. “We know that your new boss likes a good cigar after dinner. These are the best. The paper and string are from New York. You could maybe tell him that a friend in the United Nations gave you the cigars. He would probably faint if he knew you got them from a KGB man.” He sat back in his chair and grinned at the other men.