Preserve and Protect (17 page)

From a log cabin at Tahoe he was shaking the world. I’m sorry, old friend, he told Harley in his mind. I didn’t want to ruin your ceremonies. I wanted things to stay quiet until you were decently gone, but you know how it is in this job: they don’t give you much leeway. You understand. You were its prisoner, too.

In the morning he slipped away to Reno and flew back to his capital unattended by the press, as he had planned.

6

In the Delegates’ Lounge of the United Nations, the world was aflutter.

In the Delegates’ Lounge of the United Nations, the world was never anything else, but this time it was
really
aflutter.

No sooner had a good many of its members concluded with relief that one American maniac had gone than they were confronted with the fact that another seemed to be in the White House.

It was enough to make anybody flutter.

Not the least concerned, as he stood in the doorway and studied the busy scene—Asians, Africans and Arabs swirling about in brilliantly colored eddies of agitation, the more drably dressed delegates of Europe West, Europe East and the Americas providing darker-suited areas of emphasis as they gathered in worried groups or sat at little tables before the great windows, drinking coffee with a nervous air—was the Ambassador of India.

Krishna Khaleel, as he often told himself and his friends here, who were many, was a man who liked peace and quiet. Yet in all his years in the towering glass monolith on the East River he had never known life to be anything but hectic, chaotic, bothersome and upsetting. Crisis tumbled upon crisis, and with the best good will in the world it was hard for an objective Indian not to feel that nine times out of ten it was the fault of the difficult, obstreperous, unpredictable, unmanageable United States.

It was not that he and his government did not often warn this recalcitrant giant, for they did. India could always be relied upon to criticize American civilization, deplore American morals, oppose American policies, and come running to America for succor when threatened by starvation or Red China. There was a special relationship between these two great nations, and this morning, K.K. felt, it was threatened as it had rarely been before by the persistence of America in doing, with an infallible and inexorable instinct, the wrong thing.

Because the relationship was so special, he did not hesitate now, any more than he had on any other occasion, to convey the alarm and concern of his government to the first Americans he saw. On this Monday afternoon, shortly before the special session of the Security Council that was scheduled to begin at three p.m., these were two, the same two members of the U.S. delegation with whom he had so often discussed the deplorable tendencies of their government. One was stocky and sandy-complexioned, possessed of an engagingly boyish grin and an eye that missed few things, particularly women. The other was a giant young Negro whose normally good-natured face wore now an expression of uncompromising determination.

Senator Lafe Smith of Iowa and Representative Cullee Hamilton of California saw him at the same moment as he saw them, and with one accord waved him over to their table by the window.

“My dear friends,” he exclaimed, a little breathlessly, for his progress across the buzzing room had been interrupted by effusive greetings from the Ambassador of Guyana, the Ambassador of Brazil, the Ambassador of the Maldives and the Special Delegate from Anguilla, “my dear friends, crisis again!”

“Sit down, K.K.,” Lafe Smith said with a kindly air, “and tell us all about it. Today we need the wisdom of the East.”

“Which we hope,” Cullee Hamilton said, his sober expression relaxing into a smile, “will be clear, distinct, straightforward—”

“And on our side,” Senator Smith concluded for him with a grin. The Indian Ambassador frowned as he took the proffered chair and accepted a cup of coffee from a passing waiter.

“Well, my dear friends!” he said again. “What can I say, what can I say? This is all so sudden, so disturbing, so—”

“Out with it, K.K.,” Lafe said cheerfully. “So American. I’ll bet you all thought that with a new President in the White House things would quiet down and fade away and you could stop worrying.”

“I’m afraid,” Cullee observed, “they don’t know the Speaker.”

“We thought,” K.K. said with dignity, “that while there would probably be no immediate major change, at least there might be a gradual easing of tensions, a pause, a new approach”—he repeated the phrase, with capitals—“A New Approach—as the result of the tragic death of our late dear friend. But apparently the policy is to rush ahead into new adventures, new escalations, new dreadful flirtations with the peace and safety of the entire world—”

“Now, just a minute,” Cullee said. “Just a minute, if you don’t mind, K.K.
Who
is it who caused this new escalation?
Who
is it who was going to send in reinforcements and raise the ante?
Who
is it who was planning an all-out assault in Gorotoland and Panama on Wednesday, timed to coincide with Harley’s funeral?”

“No doubt that is what the United States will claim,” Krishna Khaleel said serenely, “but it is not what most of the world will believe.”

“But we have the captured battle plans!” Lafe said indignantly.

“Battle plans, battle plans!” the Indian Ambassador said with an airy dismissal. “Battle plans may be forged, you know.”

For a long moment the Americans stared at one another with an air of frustrated disbelief. Then they began to laugh, rather helplessly.

“Why do you laugh?” K.K. demanded. “It is a serious matter, dear Lafe, dear Cullee. It is a terribly serious matter!”

“We’re only laughing because it hurts, K.K.,” Cullee said. “How conditioned they have you all. It’s beyond belief.”

“Of course you realize it is not
I
who say the United States is lying, or my government who say it is lying,” the Indian Ambassador observed. “I am just reflecting what many here will say, and warning you of it. In any case, it is now rather academic, is it not? The issue has been joined, and we are about to have a meeting. Will the President use your veto again, as Harley did before?”

“I would consider it very likely,” Senator Smith said dryly.

“It will be a sad mistake,” Krishna Khaleel said regretfully. “There is such an opportunity, now, for A New Approach. It is tragic to see the great United States blindly following the same old anti-Communist pattern. All of these here”—and with a broad gesture which was noted in many corners of the room, he indicated the swirling robes, the huddling business suits, the whole humming, bustling, busy concourse—“are so eager for A New Approach. They are so upset and worried about present events. They wish so much that the United States had only—”

“Had only what, K.K.?” Cullee Hamilton asked with a rising inflection. “Waited until Wednesday when the whole government—the whole country, really—is attending Harley’s funeral, and then come away to find out we’d been hit so hard in Gorotoland and Panama that we’d lose them both. That’s exactly what your friends in Moscow and Peking were planning for us.”

“They are not necessarily my friends,” the Indian Ambassador objected stiffly. “And I do not know, of my own knowledge, what they were planning.”

“Well, we’re going to show you this afternoon,” Lafe promised grimly. “It’s going to be an interesting session.”

“I believe there will be twenty-three heads of state,” K.K. remarked politely. “A good showcase for your charges.”

Cullee snorted.

“A good showcase for the truth.”

“May be,” the Indian Ambassador said with an elusive and infuriating air of superior knowledge. “May be.”

“K.K.—” Cullee began with a real annoyance, but before he could go further he was interrupted by two other old friends who had been slowly approaching them across the great room through a tangle of extended hands and fervent arm clutches from fellow delegates.

“Don’t say it, old boy,” Lord Claude Maudulayne said cheerfully. “Just don’t say it. Temper never solved a thing, you know.”

“Particularly,” Raoul Barre agreed blandly, “when one argues a losing case.”

Studying the British and French Ambassadors without too much cordiality on this tense afternoon, the Americans could see that they had a certain air of seeing eye-to-eye that they had not always shown in the past.

“I didn’t know you two were going steady again,” Lafe remarked dryly. “The President’s decisions really
have
created a horrible situation, haven’t they?”

“They have for us,” Lord Maudulayne replied crisply. “This business of interfering with trade and shipping, you know—it’s an absolute violation of international law.”

“‘International law,’ whatever that is!” Cullee said. “An absolute violation of some people’s desire to trade with everybody. While of course supporting us officially, in Whitehall. How do you do it?”

“I could tell you better with a cup of coffee,” Claude Maudulayne said. “Move over.” And he squeezed in between Cullee and K.K. with a cheerful blandness while Raoul took a seat next to Lafe. All around them the busy room took note of their little group and buzzed and murmured. “Seriously, we are most deeply concerned. My government is determined that this precedent shall not be allowed to stand.”

“My President,” Lafe remarked pleasantly, “is determined that it shall. And I would be willing to bet that eighty per cent of the American people are behind him.”

Raoul Barre gave him a sarcastic glance.

“‘The American people, the American people!’ I saw these ‘American people’ demonstrating in the street as I entered the building just now. They seemed to be carrying big signs which said such things as STOP BOMBING INNOCENT BLACKS! OPEN FREE PANAMA’S PORTS TO WORLD TRADE! One even had a poem”—he took out an envelope, put on his glasses—“which I copied to send to my government as an indication of the mood of the great ‘American people’: WATCH OUT, ABBOTT/DON’T GET THE HABIT/REMEMBER IF YOU WANT HAPPY DAYS/THE GUN YOU USE CAN SHOOT BOTH WAYS. Rather poor meter,” he concluded dryly, “but the thought is clear.”

“It pleases you, doesn’t it?” Lafe remarked. “You Europeans just love to see us get into the riot-and-assassination pattern, don’t you? It puts everybody on the same level. Maybe it can even be the end of America, and that would be what you’d love to have happen, wouldn’t it?”

“That is a very foolish remark,” the French Ambassador observed calmly. “No one wants the United States destroyed. We just want it to abide by recognized rules of international behavior. However,” he added, forestalling Lafe’s sarcastic rejoinder, “it does seem that there are very definite threats to your internal stability lately—a progressive deterioration, if you like, which should be checked.”

“And when we check it, what will the world say?” Cullee demanded, “‘Suppressing legitimate protest’ … ‘Dictatorial methods’ … ‘Shooting down innocent blacks?’” He made a sound of deep repugnance. “Innocent blacks, for God’s sake! ’Gage Shelby and his pack of anarchists!”

“First came the Fatuous Fifties,” Lafe said slowly. “And then came the Sick Sixties … And out of them came the Savage Seventies … and out of them—where’s it going to stop, Claude? Tell us, Raoul. Enlighten us, K.K. What’s at the end of this endless unraveling of law and order and a stable society? Anything at all?”

For a moment, confronted so nakedly with the outlines and implications of the world they lived in, no one said anything, while all around the spokesmen of the mutually hostile races of man gossiped and chattered and exchanged their worried witticisms on the steady decline of a civilization they seemed unable either to strengthen or save. Then the British Ambassador returned to the only safety diplomats know, which is, One Thing At A Time—Today’s Issue Today—and, Let Tomorrow Take Care Of Itself.

“Some of us, you know,” he said softly, “regard the recent actions of the United States as contributory in major degree to just the endless unraveling you talk about. My government—”

“Your government,” Lafe snapped, “fights at our side in Gorotoland, endorses our position in Panama, and is selling arms and supplies briskly to our enemies in both countries. Who is unraveling what, may I ask?”

“Nonetheless,” Lord Maudulayne said stubbornly, “we do not accept the principle that the United States can unilaterally interfere with our shipping and our trade.”

“You assume, you see,” the French Ambassador pointed out dryly, “that there was ever a skein of consistency—unless it be consistent inconsistency—in British policy. You assume that integrity is a desirable element in international affairs. How naïve!”

“Yes, we know,” Cullee agreed. “France has shown us that.”

“The alternative, of course,” Lord Maudulayne said, “is to cut off our trade, destroy our economy, impoverish us and make us your international ward. Would you prefer that?”

“We would prefer,” Lafe said, “that you try something besides always trading with those who have as their goal our destruction—and your own destruction. You talk about the United States being chained to old policies and old habits! The rest of you are just as chained to them, and the results are just as fatal to any real solution of the world’s difficulties. London still operates on the old imperial philosophy of trade-with-anybody, no matter what he stands for, even if he wants to destroy you. That worked when Britain was big enough so that it didn’t matter a damn what your customers thought, because you were so powerful nobody
could
destroy you. But, my friend, you aren’t that powerful now. Now it really does matter if your customers’ ultimate aim is to destroy you, because now they have the capability to do it—and you have no capability to stop them. As witness Hong Kong and the pathetic history of ‘diplomatic relations with Red China’ and a few other adventures based on the old imperial reflex about trade. It’s time you learned, one would think.”

“The Preaching American!” Raoul Barre said ironically. “The latest development in the never-ceasing pattern of surprises that comes to us from across the Atlantic! If by ‘learning’ you mean we should all tie ourselves to you with no more independence of action or thought for ourselves, you know very well what our two governments think of that.”