Authors: Allen Drury
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Political, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Spies & Politics, #Assassinations, #Thrillers
Promise of Joy (41 page)
“President Knox,” Walter wrote rapidly in his study at “Salubria,” snug and comfortable while a new snowstorm out of the West slapped with a softly soggy persistence at the old leaded windows, “takes with him on this great new adventure in peace the hopes and prayers of all mankind. Events—events almost beyond comprehension, so shattering and awesome have they been—have conspired to place in his hands the fate, quite literally, of the world. It is a moment that has no parallel in the past and quite likely will have no parallel in the future. Never again, in all probability, will any single man have such influence and power as now rests in the hands of Orrin Knox. The situation is unique. We must thank whatever fates preside over the destinies of America that she has produced a man who is able to handle it.
“Very shrewdly, the President is not attempting to pressure the new governments in Moscow and Peking—that ‘United States of Russia’ and ‘United Chinese Republic’ whose names sound so strangely upon the world’s unaccustomed ear. Very shrewdly, he is walking softly, though he carries the biggest stick any man has ever held. Very shrewdly, he is approaching, equal to equal, with dignity, courtesy and respect, the new governments which now control the two vast countries whose relations hold the key to the fate of all mankind.
“Washington is confident that Orrin Knox can meet the challenge. Events have given him the opportunity to become the world’s supreme statesman. His own indomitable character offers unshakable assurance that he will do so, and that through him we all will be saved from atomic destruction and returned to the paths of peace.…”
“America watches with hope, awe and confidence,” Frankly Unctuous assured his innumerable listeners in a special broadcast just before midnight, “the remarkable statesmanship of Orrin Knox as it nears its apogee. Man and moment are met as never before, perhaps, in history.
“Overnight the whole framework of world civilization as we have known it has been rendered obsolete. New governments sit in Moscow and Peking, new names join the roster of nations: ‘the United States of Russia’ and ‘the United Chinese Republic’ stand where only yesterday the monstrous monoliths of Communism affronted and dismayed the world.
“New governments—new opportunities—new hopes. This is the finest hour of Orrin Knox. All of us join in prayers for his success, knowing that if he succeeds the world will succeed, and that peace and progress will rescue us from the terrible shadow of clashing rivalries and atomic war.
“History has given to Orrin Knox an opportunity never accorded another man. He approaches it with courage, with faith and with all the resources of the tenacious character Washington has come to know so well over his long years of public service. Now America gives this man and this character to the world—with unanimous prayers for his success and unanimous confidence in his leadership.…”
“My, my,” he said dryly to his predecessor as Frankly’s plump, self-satisfied face faded with a fervid solemnity from the screen, “how times have changed. I seem to be quite a guy, don’t I?”
“You
are
quite a guy,” William Abbott said quietly, and in his eyes and the eyes of the others gathered around the desk the President could see that, yes, he was. Yet to himself, and it was probably his saving grace, he was still just Orrin Knox, President, with a fearful job to do: not a miracle man, not a new Messiah, not the greatest this or the most marvelous that, not history’s infallible statesman who could rearrange the nations forever and ever, but just—Orrin Knox, President, with a fearful job to do.
“Well,” he said with a smile almost rueful, “that may or may not be. But I do know this: there’s a hell of a tough few days just ahead and I’m going to need all of you to advise me every minute of the way. I’m glad most of you can go with me.”
Bob Munson chuckled and replied with the candor of old friendship.
“Let’s don’t overdue the humility bit. You didn’t really think there was a soul in the world who could refuse if you asked, did you?”
“Well, no,” he admitted with a sudden cheerful grin, “but anyway, I’m grateful. It’s going to be very comforting to have you along. I’m sorry”—he turned to the Vice President, sitting somewhat disconsolately to one side—“that I can’t take you, Cullee, but somebody has to mind the store. There’s still a country to administer here and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“How long do you think?” the Vice President inquired. The President’s eyes narrowed.
“A week—two. Probably not more, because it should be quite clear by that time whether we’re really entering a new era or heading right back into the old one.”
“Surely after all that’s happened, Mr. President,” Justice Davis said earnestly,
“surely
you’re going to achieve exactly what you’re setting out to do, a settlement of these difficulties between China and Russia and a genuine, lasting peace in the world. The thought that you might not is truly too dreadful to contemplate.”
“Yes,” he agreed gravely, “and I try not to contemplate it. On the other hand, we’re dealing with some tremendous volatiles here and nobody knows yet whether they’re going to shake down peaceably together, or not.”
“They’ve
got
to,” Justice Davis said fervently. “They have
got
to.”
“That’s why I’m taking you along, Tommy,” he said with an affectionate smile. “Because somebody has to hold high the banner of What
Must
Be Done. And you, my idealistic if occasionally somewhat annoying old friend, are it. You will keep our feet on the paths of righteousness.”
“You should be glad to have someone do it,” Tommy Davis said, a little huffily but with his usual basic good nature. “It isn’t going to be easy.”
“That’s right,” the President agreed, somber again. “That is absolutely right. That’s why I’ve asked this group to go with me.” He looked along the semicircle of intent faces that stared solemnly at him as the storm raged outside and the clock within neared midnight: the ex-President, the Speaker, the ex-Majority Leader of the Senate, the new Majority Leader of the Senate, the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Defense, Justice Davis and his son. Himself and eight companions, starting out to save the world.
May God give us strength,
he thought with a sudden profound melancholy, startling because until that moment he had not really realized how apprehensive and uncertain he was of this chaotic future he was supposed to dominate so completely, according to his new-found friends of the media.
May God give us strength.
He lapsed for a moment into an obvious brown study, which alarmed them. To break it, Hal asked finally:
“What
is
the situation over there, anyway? Do we know?”
“Pretty much what I told the press conference,” he said, rousing out of it, relieving their worry with his practical, same-as-ever tone. “A general massacre of local party officials in both countries, capture and execution of all the national leaders except a few they apparently intend to put on trial. I understand that our dear old friend Vasily is one of these.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Bob Leffingwell said slowly. “That sounds too much like the old pattern. I’d much rather have an honest-to-God, emotional, across-the-board slaughter than an artificial, staged, propaganda trial with all the standard gimmicks. That could be a straw in the wind, couldn’t it?”
“I hope not,” Blair Hannah remarked, “because if it is, it isn’t a good one.”
“No,” he agreed soberly, “it is not. However, that appears to be what is shaping up—in Russia, anyway. It may be just the ingrained habit of six decades of watching the Communists operate, or it may be a reversion to type. We’ll hope it isn’t the latter. Reports from China are more obscure. In any event, gentlemen”—and again his eyes swept the semicircle—“I
think we are going to have our work cut out for us—even if,” he added, “I do come riding on a white charger, armored to save the world.”
“What do you intend to do?” Arly Richardson asked, and the Speaker echoed, “Yes, sir, now, Mr. President, what do you intend to do, now, Mr. President, sir?” in his inimitable, predictable way.
“I intend to be somewhat tougher than the
Post
seems to contemplate,” he said, “but basically, they’ve pretty much got the pitch. I’m not going to push anybody unless I have to. I hope to God the Russians and Chinese have acquired enough sense so I won’t have to. If I do, however, I shall not hesitate.”
“They would be absolutely insane to head back in the same direction the old regimes were going,” Bill Abbott said. He smiled a wry smile. “That doesn’t say they won’t, of course.”
“No,” he said, “but I intend to make it very clear at the outset that I’m not having any of that. And actually—I mean, there they sit, both countries half destroyed, populations in absolute panic, the world in the same condition, the South Pacific still threatened by the cloud, the globe still entirely capable of being blown up at any moment if the war resumes and spreads—how can they possibly be other than humbled and responsible men?”
“We must think so,” Tommy Davis said solemnly. “Orrin—Mr. President—
we must think so.
We must not let doubt come in. We must believe—we must have faith—we must go forward. We dare not admit to ourselves the possibility of failure, for if we do, then the world is really lost.”
The President gave the little Justice once again an affectionate, almost paternal smile.
“Tommy,” he said, “you’re good for me, just as I knew you would be. We will have faith, as you say. We will go forward.”
Next morning when they departed for Moscow, that was the spirit in which they went. They flew from Andrews Air Force Base, and as far as eyes could see, their countrymen filled every available field, open space, building top, road, runway, just as they had along the entire length of the fifteen-mile drive from Washington.
He had decided, overriding the Secret Service, that they would go by motorcade instead of helicopter because, as he said, he wanted as many as possible to see them off. The mass outpouring of support he expected would be enormously strengthening for them, he believed; and when the mass outpouring proved to be there despite the new-fallen drifts of snow—streets and freeways solid with humanity every inch of the way from the White House, through the city, out into Maryland and so to Andrews—he had found it exactly as uplifting and encouraging as he had anticipated.
He had even received the final accolade, he noted with a wry little smile as they rode along, he and Cullee in the first limousine, William Abbott, Bob Munson, the Speaker and the Majority Leader in the second, Hal, Bob Leffingwell and Blair Hannah in the third. At regular intervals along the way stood the solemn-faced, black-jacketed stalwarts of NAWAC. Each held a banner: God bless President Knox, our great leader, and speed him on his way to peace for all humanity.
“Apparently,” he remarked to Cullee, “I’ve made the grade.” The Vice President snorted and murmured something not complimentary to Fred Van Ackerman and his merry men. Fear was still doing wonderful things to the world.
“Mr. Vice President,” he said, speaking from the red-carpeted platform set up alongside the plane, the chill wind ruffling his sparse, uncovered hair, “my fellow countrymen:
“We go in faith and in hope to do what we can to help our friends in Russia and China make peace, and to restore the future of the world.
“I think we can achieve this. The obstacles are many, the hurdles difficult. But we go in good faith, believing we will find good faith greeting us. If this be so, we cannot fail.
“There is a good omen for our journey and I want to share it with you. I am advised by the Weather Bureau and by our armed forces that the atomic cloud which has been threatening Southeast Asia, Indonesia and the nations of the South Pacific Basin now appears definitely to be disintegrating at a high altitude that will not harm human life.”
There was a great welling up of heartfelt, thankful sound, from his immediate audience and from everywhere over the earth where men heard his voice and watched his calm, wind-buffeted face.
“I agree with you,” he said. “It is a marvelous thing, and one for which we can all be greatly thankful. Yet the event gives us all pause, because it reminds us what did happen, and what can happen again unless my colleagues and I are successful in our mission.
“I repeat: we can be successful if we are met with good faith and cooperation in Moscow and Peking. I believe we will be. I believe the massed heart of mankind is insisting upon a genuine world peace at last. I believe that this is a force too strong to be denied. My colleagues and I go as its servants, with nothing to be gained for ourselves or our country but the satisfaction of knowing that we have been able to help.
“That satisfaction I believe we shall have, because I believe peace will be achieved and with it the dawning of a new day for all mankind.
“Goodbye and God bless you. Pray for us, and we shall do our best. I am confident we will return with peace, for you and for everyone.”
Again there was a great upwelling of sound, a sort of universal cry of yearning and hope. Then the platform was removed, they boarded Air Force One, the doors were closed, the engines roared, they were up and away, followed by the two packed press planes.
For a long, long time after the planes vanished into the sullen overcast, those they had left behind stood staring up, hushed and solemn, not moving, not speaking, hardly even breathing, so great was their agony of hope … until at last they began to break up and move away and drift off, to return to their homes and the vigil that now took over the world.
***
Book Four
1
They stopped overnight in London; he conferred briefly with the Prime Minister and the Prime Ministers of France, West Germany and Italy, who had flown in for the meeting. There were pledges of support, fervent expressions of hope, stout assurances of future cooperation in all the things necessary to stabilize the world. He accepted them gravely and with profound thanks, though in the back of his mind a little clock kept ticking away:
one week—ten days—two weeks—one week—ten days—two weeks.
It was not only the Russians and the Chinese he had to hold to the timetable of fear, it was everyone else. Let things drag on too long and the whole thing would begin to disintegrate, the moment would be lost, cooperation on all sides would fritter out in a revival of traditional rivalries, hesitations, self-interests, unwillingness to work together, loss of heart, loss of determination, loss of courage. Time was his ally and his enemy: he did not know which side of its Janus head would be turned to him at the end of his journey. It behooved him to move fast.
Spurred by this, he did not tarry long but flew on very early in the morning to Moscow. Bonfires had been lighted the night before all along the route, in Newfoundland, Iceland, the British Isles: tiny beacons of hope and encouragement to wish him and his colleagues Godspeed on their difficult journey. Now as dawn came slowly to Europe through the pall of winter an occasional rift in the clouds disclosed that in every village, on every hilltop, little groups of people were standing in the snow to wave as the plane that carried the hopes of mankind passed over.
“They wish us well,” William Abbott remarked.
He nodded.
“It is nice to know.”
“Very,” Bill Abbott said. “We need their prayers.”
“Yes,” he said, and a sigh, sudden and unexpected, escaped his lips. “More than they know.”
Presently Arly Richardson, staring moodily out at the drifting clouds, leaned forward abruptly.
“What’s this?” he asked. “An escort?”
And so it seemed to be, for Air Force One was suddenly surrounded by what appeared to be at least two dozen jets, taking positions alongside with friendly dips of their wings and a certain almost festive rakishness in the way they flew. In a moment the captain came on the intercom.
“We are being officially greeted, Mr. President. Their commander says he can speak English. I’ll have him on in a moment.”
A second later, guttural and at times uncertain but obviously full of a boundless excitement and good will, they heard their first words from the new Russia.
“Hello, great American President and his friends!” a youthful voice cried cheerfully. “On behalf of the President and Cabinet of the United States of Russia, we welcome you! On behalf of the free people of the United States of Russia, we welcome you! We are happy you are here to help us. We make you welcome. Welcome, welcome! We want to join you in making peace. We make you welcome. Welcome, welcome!
Welcome!”
And in a burst of exuberant spirits, the lead plane peeled away for a series of rolls and spins, followed instantly by its fellows, so that for several minutes the sky was filled with cavorting jets, some of them coming dangerously close, but all plainly in the hands of jubilant, friendly and excited men.
During the display, he went forward to the cabin. When things had calmed down again and all their escort seemed to be in place, he spoke in response.
“Gentlemen of the United States of Russia, this is the President. My friends and I are very happy to visit your country. We too hope we can all work together for peace. We will do our best to make peace come. We need the help of the President and Cabinet of the United States of Russia. We need the help of you, the great free peoples of the United States of Russia. Let us go forward together, my friends. Let us have peace!”
“Yes!” the youthful voice came back triumphantly. “We will have peace, comrade!” There was a pause and a burst of laughter. “We are not supposed to say that any more, Mr. President, please forgive me! We say ‘citizen’ now. We will have peace, great citizen of the world! Welcome to Russia! Welcome,
welcome!”
And once again he whirled away, followed dutifully by his colleagues, and for several minutes more the sky was filled with exuberant acrobatics.
“Well, now, that sounds right friendly, now!” Jawbone exclaimed, a happy smile on his face as he watched the agitated heavens gradually calm down again. “It really does sound right friendly.”
“Yes, it does,” Bob Munson agreed from across the aisle. “And one of the most interesting things about it, to me, is that at this very moment, with the country partially devastated, torn by civil war and presumably in near chaos, they are still able to put in the air twenty-four completely air-worthy jets in the hands of twenty-four supremely competent pilots. It is a thought,” he added dryly, “for today.”
“Indeed it is,” Bill Abbott said soberly. “Indeed it is.”
As they flew on, the clouds became sparser and eventually thinned out altogether. The snowbound land appeared. They flew over many villages and small settlements; from quite a few, pillars of smoke climbed high in the frigid air.
“Revolution,” Hal observed. “They must still be fighting in many places.”
“Yes,” Bob Leffingwell agreed. “It is a sight the world had never thought to see.”
“But inevitable,” Justice Davis remarked. “Always inevitable, as long as they had the oppressive government they did.”
“Why, Tommy,” the President couldn’t resist, “I never knew you realized that. I thought it was always hail-to-them and hell-to-us, with you and your friends.”
“I can’t speak for all my friends,” Tommy Davis responded somewhat tartly, “but
I
always realized it.”
“You did?” the President pressed.
“I did,” the little Justice said firmly, turning away to look out the window.
“Well, good for you,” Orrin said, winking at Bob Munson down the aisle. “I never would have suspected, but it’s good to have you on our side.”
“Thank you,” Justice Davis said with dignity.
Before long the gray outlying tentacles of a great city began to appear. Soon their captain was advising seat belts, they were on their way down. With a last exuberant farewell flip of wings their escort peeled away. Air Force One and the two press planes came in alone.
They traversed the runway, turned, came back, stopped precisely in front of a platform similar to the one they had left twenty-four hours ago at Andrews. The door opened, he stepped forward, bundled in a heavy black cashmere overcoat but hatless in the icy wind. Below he saw a jumble of cameras and photographers, many of them his own countrymen racing from the planes behind. A cluster of eager official faces looked up. He stood for a moment smiling and waving, then proceeded down the steps followed by his colleagues. Off to the right a band struck up a tune he did not recognize but guessed, from a certain heavy Slavic pomp, to be the new national anthem. It was followed, as he stepped down onto the red carpet and proceeded to shake hands with the first of his welcomers, by “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
He and his companions were surrounded immediately by eager, excited men speaking fervent words of greeting, shaking hands repeatedly with great emphasis, almost, it seemed, dancing jigs of joy. Then there came a little stir, the rest fell back. Out of the tumultuous crowd a stocky, gray-haired man stepped forward.
“You must be—?” Orrin said, holding out his hand with a questioning smile.
“This is General Shulatov, our new President,” someone said proudly, and for just a second the dismay he felt must have been apparent in his eyes, for someone else said hastily with a nervous little laugh,
“Citizen
Shulatov, Mr. President,
Citizen
Shulatov!” and he laughed with an exaggerated heartiness and said, “Of course!” as he shook Citizen Shulatov’s hand with a very vigorous handshake.
Then he was on the platform, and at his side Citizen Shulatov was speaking in a heavily accented but quite fluent English that echoed from the loudspeakers across the snowy tarmac, and via satellite across the world.
“Mr. President: the President, Cabinet and free peoples of the United States of Russia greet you! We welcome you to the new Russia. We are pleased and honored that you have come. We are grateful for your journey in the name of peace, and we pledge our full cooperation in achieving peace.
“Peace is the highest aim of any government. It is the aim of my government. To assure that we will have peace, the free peoples of Russia have awakened from their many decades of tyranny to demand that we have peace. Because of peace, vast changes have occurred in our country in the past forty-eight hours. We have destroyed the tyrants, just as you asked us to do. A great many of the war criminals are dead; some few are captive and will stand trial. We have a new government whose major purpose is to have peace.
“The President, Cabinet and free peoples of the new Russia welcome you, Mr. President. Tell us what you want us to do in the name of peace, and we will do it. We pledge you that. Welcome to you and your friends, in the name of Mother Russia!”
And with a sudden emotionalism whose sincerity the President was unable to judge accurately at that moment, he turned and enveloped him in a bear hug, kissing him vigorously on both cheeks.
When he had extricated himself with a somewhat embarrassed but good-natured smile, he stepped forward to the microphones and his voice too boomed forth to watching humankind.
“Peoples of free Russia—” He was conscious of the slightest stirring at his side, knew his point had scored, and did not regret it. “Mr. President, members of the Cabinet:
“My colleagues and I are here to aid you in every way we can to achieve peace not only for yourselves, but for the world.
“As you have said, Mr. President, vast and earth-shaking changes have taken place here in the past forty-eight hours. The world has watched in awe and amazement as long decades of tyranny have been swept away, to let in freedom and prepare the way for peace. A great revolution has occurred in your great country—a true revolution at last, a revolution for liberty, a revolution for peace.
“Now the hard tasks of government begin. Now the difficult building of true liberty and true peace must start. Now you must move out into the world to rejoin mankind, after many long years of imprisonment by false leaders and merciless tyrants. Now you must earn peace, and with it the respect, admiration and support of all the world’s peoples.
“This will demand of you great statesmanship, great integrity, great vision. It will demand of you the sacrifice of some of the ambitions that brought about war.” Again he was conscious of the smallest, slightest stirring at his side. “It will demand of you a new spirit of brotherhood toward your neighbors to the east.” The stirring for a second was quite obvious. “It will require a willingness to work together with the new United Chinese Republic. It will require that you find a middle ground with the now free peoples of that vast country—those peoples who, like you, have at last thrown off the chains of tyranny and begun the search for genuine freedom and genuine peace.
“In that search, my friends and I are here to help in every way we can.
“We are not here to demand, except as the massed heart of mankind gives us the right to demand, any conditions for peace.
“We are not here to dictate, except as the massed heart of mankind wants us to dictate, how peace should be achieved.
“We are simply here to help find peace, because peace
must
be found.”
His voice and expression turned somber.
“You have suffered terribly in the past few days, peoples of the new Russia. Neither you, nor the Chinese, nor anyone anywhere else in the world, must ever suffer such terrible things again.…
“Mr. President, members of the Cabinet, my friends and I thank you for your greeting. We look forward to working with you for the best interests of your free peoples, and of all peoples everywhere. We hope peace may swiftly come because time is very short.”
There was a burst of clapping, rather more dutiful, he felt, than not.
He turned to Shulatov, shook hands firmly and, this time, managed to get through another bear hug and bussing with a dignity that much amused his son, as he was aware when he caught his eye over his host’s burly shoulder.
Then they were in the official limousines, the sirens were screaming, they were whisked away to the Kremlin over the icy roads and through the cavernous, icy streets. Many, many thousands were out to see them, whether ordered or spontaneously, they had at that time no way of knowing. At regular intervals along the way tanks, soldiers, heavy guns, were at attention as they passed. Overhead more exuberant jets were flying. They arrived at their Kremlin quarters in a curious state of mind, determinedly optimistic, desperately desirous that all would be well—but wary.
An hour later they faced their hosts in closed session in a huge oak-paneled room in what had been the private quarters of Vasily Tashikov. They knew this because Shulatov told them so with an air of considerable pride when they were ushered in.
“That traitor,” he added with a grim satisfaction, “who now awaits in Lubyanka the judgment of the people. We despise him, Mr. President! We despise him! He will receive the punishment he deserves for his rash, ill-considered, foolish acts. Of that the world may be sure.”
“He was certainly no friend to world peace,” Orrin observed noncommittally. Shulatov snorted.
“He betrayed Russia! He
betrayed
her! He will never be forgiven for it by this country. Never!”
“He betrayed her by failing to win the war, I take it,” the President suggested matter-of-factly, and for a split second his host almost agreed. Then he smiled with a sudden bland candor and shook his head vigorously.
“No, no! Certainly not! He betrayed her, as he betrayed all the peoples of the world, by launching an atomic attack upon our great neighbor China and thus bringing destruction upon Russia and panic to the world. It was a double betrayal. Is that not right, Mr. President?”
“That is how we see it, Mr. President,” Orrin agreed with an equal blandness. “We shall watch the proceedings of his trial, and those of his colleagues, with great interest.”
