“I inherited a dissident Politburo from Nikita. You know that as well as I do. The feeling was, still is, that Khrushchev went too far toward the West, that he undermined our struggle for world leadership.” He drew on his cigarette and sent a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.
“I saved Nikita from liquidation, did you know that?”
“Yes, sir. I knew that.”
“Now I must save the Soviet Union from nuclear attack.”
“You are the First Secretary, sir,” Shevenko said.
“Who is at the mercy of the Politburo if it turns against me,” Brezhnev snapped. “Admiral Zurahv, General Mishikoff, are both advocating an immediate nuclear strike against the United States and Mainland China. They have called for an emergency meeting of the Politburo at four tomorrow afternoon. Comrade Plotovsky has told me that he has asked you to be there as a witness for his side.”
“Yes, sir, he has asked me to do that.”
“What do you hope to gain?”
“With all due respect, sir, at best a majority vote to discontinue the weapons testing program. At worst, a defeat by no more than one vote with the hope, my and Comrade Plotovsky’s hope, sir, that you will cast a vote on Comrade Plotovsky’s side and create a tie and table the matter.”
“That’s Plotovsky’s thinking,” Brezhnev said. “He’s a rare bird, that old man. A street fighter who turned into a politician and forgot nothing of his street fighting tricks.” He stubbed out his cigarette in a glass ashtray and reached for the cigarette package.
“And if Plotovsky’s side, your side, wins how do we go about cleaning up this mess? Have you thought about that? I am not going to apologize, Igor!”
“There is a way,” Shevenko said slowly. “I could reach the head of the CIA through Israel, let him know the crisis is over. He could go to the President, tell him what happened and assure him that everything is normal. If it can be done that way the American admirals who are playing president would be forced out of the Navy.”
“They’ve lost one of their submarines,” Brezhnev said.
“The loss has not been announced, sir. It could be laid to unknown causes. The history of the sea is full of such incidents, sir. Just as we would, in due time, announce the loss of our submarine to the same cause.”
“It always comes down to politics,” Brezhnev said. “And politics are the same all over the world. Only the penalty for failure differs.” He leaned back in the big chair, the eyes under the bristling eyebrows steady on Shevenko.
“I knew your father, as you know, Igor. We were great friends. His death in the great patriotic war was a blow to me, almost as much a blow as it was to you and your family. For his sake I hope you are well prepared for the meeting.”
“My father used to talk a lot about you, sir,” Shevenko said. “He said you were a man who never forgot a friend. I will do my best.”
“That’s a nice thing to have said about yourself,” Brezhnev said. He got out of his chair and walked around the desk and put his heavy hand on Shevenko’s shoulder.
“I’m afraid that in those days friendship was based on trust. Those were the days when we were fighting a common enemy and there was no room for politics.”
Admiral Zurahv paced the floor of his office. His chief naval aide, Captain Bogomolets, watched him from a chair as he sipped at a mug of hot tea.
“The old man, Plotovsky, saw the First Secretary this morning, early. Then Brezhnev called for the two generals, Mishikoff and Koslin.”
“Understandable,” the Captain said. “Brezhnev is a cautious man, a politician. He would listen to one side and then the other. The full Politburo will be at the meeting. If we don’t win, if we get a tie vote, then it is up to Brezhnev to break the tie with his vote.”
“If he chooses to vote. He didn’t, the other time.”
“He can’t ride that horse a second time,” Captain Bogomolets said patiently. “We’ve talked about that earlier. He will have to vote. The fact that he called in Plotovsky and then the GRU is an indication that he may believe that the vote will be a tie.”
The Admiral stopped pacing and faced his aide. “Mishikoff reported to me that when he and Koslin left the First Secretary’s office Igor Shevenko was sitting in the anteroom. I don’t like the sound of that, my friend.”
“The foolishness with that boy,” Captain Bogomolets said softly. “Shevenko’s aide. A pity.”
“Shevenko had him murdered!” Admiral Zurahv snapped. “And don’t call it foolishness, you had the same appetites years ago.”
“Admitted,” the naval Captain said.
“So what do you think Shevenko told Brezhnev, that I was a sodomist and therefore couldn’t be trusted?”
“The conversation between them, as I am told by Brezhnev’s aide, did not cover that subject, my friend. In fact, Brezhnev did not give Shevenko any encouragement in his role as a witness tomorrow. Rather, he warned him to do well.”
“How reliable is that damned aide?” Zurahv growled.
“Reliable enough,” Captain Bogomolets said. “What we have to do now is to figure some way to impress on the opposition that it is imperative that we move in our direction and at once.
Admiral Zurahv lowered his massive hams onto the edge of his desk and rubbed his belly. “Yes. Here’s how we will do it. We will watch closely during the meeting. If we see signs of doubt in those we think we are sure of, there’s at least one who could play the role of turncoat. We’ll play our trump card, we’ll say we have absolute information that the United States and Peking have decided to launch a simultaneous nuclear attack on the Soviet Union.”
“Not a very strong trump card,” Bogomolets said. “Proof will be demanded.”
“The GRU will manufacture that proof,” Admiral Zurahv said. “We’ll only use it if we have to, if Plotovsky has succeeded in turning old Arekelyan to his side. I don’t think Brezhnev will dare to vote with Plotovsky if we raise the issue of national security.” The Navy Captain shook his grizzled head.
“I still think it’s a chancy thing.”
Admiral Zurahv shrugged. “Here is what I want you to do. Get off messages to all our missile submarines now at sea. Tell them to take stations and revise targets for missiles to hit at all hard-based missile sites in the United States.” He paused and shifted his position a bit to better accommodate his bulk.
“In the same message tell them to stand by for a firing order. Send the messages in Code Zebra Seven. We have no evidence that the Americans have cracked that code.”
Captain Bogomolets stood up and smoothed his uniform tunic. “You intend to begin the attack no matter what the results of the meeting?”
“I intend to save my country from nuclear death,” Admiral Zurahv said.
CHAPTER 20
Admiral Brannon and Moise Goldman walked down the hall in the White House to the door of the Oval Office. The Marine sentry on duty outside the door came to attention and snapped off a salute to Admiral Brannon.
“Is the President here yet?” Goldman asked the Marine. “Inside sir. Not alone.”
“Oh?” Goldman said. “Who’s with him?”
“Captain Steel and Representative Wendell, sir. They got here about fifteen minutes ago. Admiral Benson and his aide are also inside.”
“Thank you,” Goldman said. He touched Mike Brannon’s arm and the two men walked a few yards down the hall.
“We’ve been euchred, Admiral. I might not be able to do any preliminary talking. Play it by ear, sir. Don’t say anything you don’t have to say.” He turned and went back up the hall and the sentry knocked softly on the door and opened it.