THE PEGASUS DIRECTIVE

This story’s heroes are Andrew St. James, code-named Pegasus, and, to a lesser extent, his protégé, Justin Scott, code name Orion. They are both, thankfully, incorruptible and very good at their secretive jobs. Maj. Gen. Mykel Alexei Zakharov, reckoned the second most powerful man in the KGB, has defected and will only meet with Pegasus. Thus begins O’Connor’s twisted tale. It turns out that the Russian ambassador, Anatoly Dobrynin, had warned Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson that Kennedy was in grave danger—not from the Russians, mind you, but from the Chinese. That meeting is filmed though not made public. Then comes the key element of the plot. Through technical legerdemain, the KGB takes that film and other clips of Johnson and Dobrynin to piece together a work that clearly shows the vice president conspiring with the Russians to have Kennedy assassinated. It is a masterpiece of fakery that must never see the light of day. The race is on to expose it as bogus in a way that ordinary people will understand, rendering the blackmail worthless. The Russians have set a deadline for Johnson, now the president, to disavow Israel completely, giving the Soviets carte blanche in the Middle East, or they will release the film to the public. This is not O’Connor’s first foray into political thriller territory. His chops are evident, from the crisp pace—each chapter title suggests urgent bulletins (“Washington, D.C.—May 12-13, 1972”)—to captivating details: “A rumpled figure heaved himself up and lumbered forward, his eyes riveted on St. James.” The author is also a keen historian of geopolitics and takes readers on a compelling tour of the world in the 1960s and ’70s: the Vietnam War, Soviet-Sino tensions, the ousting of Soviet leader Nikita S. Khrushchev, and the rise of Leonid Brezhnev. It’s all here with newsreel urgency. O’Connor is a very dependable dispenser of this addictive material.