Call Down The Hawk

by Richard Folmar

  “Your father said both of the Bryans were exhausted and made only one appearance before we got there.”

  “So you have no idea what he wanted to talk to you about,” she said, with a disappointed pout.

  “According to your father, I am to present myself at the State Department tomorrow morning and Bryan will tell me.”

  She turned the Electric off and faced him triumphantly. “Well, well, Mr. Cane, it’s just as I told you. I’d bet my virginity it’s a whale of an important position he has in mind.”

  He was startled at first, but realized that it was just Molly’s immature attempt to shock. He replied, “Under that bet, it looks like I would win either way.” That should hold you missy.

  She was shocked in turn, by his unexpected retort, but, not taking her eyes from his, drawled in her best Texas accent, “Reckon we both would win, partner.”

  21

  HENRY ADAMS CALLED IT, “MR. Mullet’s architectural infant asylum.” Officially it was known as the State, War and Navy Building. It was once claimed to be the largest granite structure in the world and it sits between 17th Street and West Executive Avenue facing the White House. The five storied structure with its broken lines and planes, columns, piled upon columns with towering chimneys and dormer windows lining the roof, reminded Seth of nothing so much as an old full-rigged ship of the line under sail.

  He stopped to make inquiry of a middle aged door keeper at the State Department’s south wing entrance who told him, “Just follow that crowd of fellows up to the second floor, Room 208 and you’ll find the Secretary’s office.”

  “Are those men employees of the department?” Seth asked.

  The doorkeeper spit a brown stream of chewing tobacco with practiced accuracy into one of the many brass cuspidors spaced along the wall. “Spect most of them would like to be,” he replied. “Since that old man Bryan came aboard, this place has been crawling with them jaybirds slavering to get on the tit.”

  Seth laughed. “You’ve got to realize that after sixteen years there are a lot of hungry Democrats out there.”

  “It don’t matter, there just ain’t much more room at that tit, lessen a lot of good career people are told to hit the bricks.”

  “Reckon you could be right,” Seth said, looking down the long corridor of polished black and white marble. “What’s at the other end?”

  “The Army Department sits in the center of the building and the Navy in the north wing.” His face suddenly gleamed with pride. “Betcha can’t guess how many rooms in here?”

  “Wouldn’t even want to try.”

  “Would you believe more’n five hundred, most with fifteen to eighteen foot ceilings?”

  “You don’t say?”

  “I do say. Them pretty black and white corridors—two miles of em , and that fancy spiral staircase—seven more just like it going all the way to the fifth floor.”

  “Gotta admit, I’m really impressed. Thank you, sir. Did you say the Secretary of State is on the second floor?”

  “Don’t know where he might be, but his office is up there, Room 208.”

  Room 208 was in fact a suite, with a small outer clerk’s room opening into what appeared to be a long conference room adjacent to the Secretary’s office. There was standing room only in the conference room.. A harried clerk whose old fashioned attached winged collar had long since wilted was on his feet desperately trying to bring order out of the noise from the job applicants. They paid him no attention and he gave up in disgust, returning to his desk to sit down heavily. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and glared at Seth.

  “Yes, what do you want?”

  “Howdy,” Seth said with a smile. “My name is Seth Cane and I have—”

  The clerk was on his feet again, his voice piercingly high, “Listen to me, gentlemen! I will clear this office unless youkeep this noise down in here. I’m not going to ask you again.” Faces turned toward him startled, then relaxed into good humor. Miraculously, the noise did drop to a tolerable level. “Thank you, I am sure,” the clerk said and sat down. He looked up at Seth, “Yes, yes, what is your business here?”

  Seth repeated his name, saying he had an appointment to see Secretary Bryan. The clerk, tentatively fingering the pages of his appointment book, asked, “What time?”

  “How’s that?” Seth replied.

  “For what time was your appointment?”

  “No specific time. I was just asked to come by this morning.”

  “That does not constitute an appointment to see the Secretary,” the clerk said, laying aside his appointment book.

  “Hold on there friend. Could you just look in that book to see if my name is in there for this morning?”

  The clerk, with growing irritation, shook his head and said that he had personally entered all the names of the appointments for this morning and no Seth Cane was listed. He motioned toward the hall door. “Sorry, but as you can see, the Secretary’s got more than he can say grace over this morning. Perhaps, if you come back later in the week?”

  Well that’s it.. Obviously Will Bryan had forgotten to tell his clerk that I was coming in. It can’t have been of much importance to him. He thanked the clerk and turned to go when the Secretary’s inner office door burst open and the Commoner appeared with his hand on the shoulder of Senator John Kern from Indiana. Shaking hands, Bryan turned to re-enter his office amid the cries of “Mr. Secretary” from the office seekers. He raised his hands with intent to caution patience when he spotted Seth.

  “Seth! I’ve been expecting you. Come in.” He looked at his open mouthed clerk. “Mr. Davey, please reset the appointments for these fine gentlemen for tomorrow. I will be tied up for the rest of this morning.” (A chorus of groans greeted this announcement from the fine gentlemen in the waiting room.) “And, Mr. Davey, before you do that, please place that call to Mr. Tumulty at the White House.”

  The Secretary of State’s office had a fine southeast view of the Washington Monument but the most prominent piece of furniture, the Secretary’s flat topped oak desk, was pushed against the north wall and he couldn’t see the historic view without turning around. Bryan caught Seth looking at the almost impossible clutter of papers and books on that desk.

  “Things have been in a mess since I moved in here. I haven’t had a spare moment in which to get my affairs in order.”

  “Are all those men out there looking for a job?”

  Bryan gestured Seth toward a heavy dark wood leather upholstered chair. “Pull that up closer so we can talk. Yes, most of them are looking for a position with the department, but I’m afraid I will have to disappoint some of them unless I can dismiss some of the present employees.”

  Seth nodded, “Yes, I read something in the Post this morning about your position on that.”

  Bryan grunted his displeasure. “Oh that—well, the press, jumping on the lead of that Faver woman, have intentionally inflamed the remarks I made after my swearing in, yesterday.”

  Faver woman, Annaliese?

  “They called it my warning to the career personnel that they may be replaced. Well, they are welcome to read into it anything they so desire. Actually, all I said was that my tenure of office is not more than four years, why should theirs be any longer?” Don’t know why that should upset these career fellows.

  “Will, Henry Dalworth said it was important that I talk with you this morning. Why?”

  Bryan stared at him for a moment, then opened the middle right hand drawer of his desk and removed a manila file folder that he plopped on the desk without opening it. Tapping the unopened file with his finger, he said, “Seth, I have a small job for you.”

  “Hold on, Will,” Seth said softly. “I’m flattered that you would consider me for a job with the department, but I best tell you that I am not interested in working here in Washing
ton for the federal government. I plan to leave for home, tomorrow and get back in the law business.”

  Bryan slapped the top of his desk hard. “Wait until I make an offer, will you? Better yet, wait until you hear what your president has to say before you fire your rounds.”

  “President Wilson?”

  “He’s the only president we’ve got right now.”

  Seth stood up and walked over to a window. “Will, what in blazes are we talking about? What is so important about this job that you have to bring the President in?”

  Bryan followed him to the window and put his hand on Seth’s shoulder. He lowered his voice to a confidential level. “The background is all there in the file,” he said. “The short of it is that the President and I have inherited a dark problem down in Mexico. And, for your information, I am not bringing him in to it. He first brought the problem to me.”

  “Can I make an educated guess? Does it have something to do with General Victoriano Huerta?”

  “Yes, in a way. You are aware that on February 22 of this year, the president and vice president, deposed by General Huerta, were brutally murdered after being promised safe conduct from the country.”

  “Didn’t know about the safe conduct thing. Huerta is responsible?”

  “Undoubtedly, but there may be another aspect of that sordid event. There are allegations that our Ambassador, Henry Lane Wilson, no relation to our President, might not only have been involved in the overthrow of President Francisco Madero, but may have colluded in the Madero and Suarez murders.”

  Seth was stunned. “The American Ambassador? That seems incredible, Will.”

  “All I am saying is that such is being alleged.”

  “May I ask who has made such allegation?”

  “Members of the Madero family.”

  “Not a particularly an unbiased source.”

  Bryan nodded, “Agreed, but there have been some other sources in Mexico and they as well as others are persons you are going to talk to.”

  “Why doesn’t the president simply recall Henry Lane Wilson for hearings back here? He doesn’t need any special authority or reason to recall an ambassador.”

  “Of course, but there are other considerations involved that make a simple recall not optional at this time. The president may or may not explain them to you.”

  “Even so,” Seth began but was interrupted.

  “You must also understand, Seth, Henry Lane Wilson is a man of long and distinguished career in the diplomatic service of this country. During the same ten day revolution that overthrew Madero, he acted with great heroism and danger to himself in personally saving the lives of many American citizens. He threatened both sides that if they didn’t stop shelling the homes and killing innocent American and Mexican citizens, he would order our Marines to land in Vera Cruz. The President is under great pressure in this country to retain him in Mexico. We both know that President Wilson is an eminently fair and responsible man and he is not going to take any action which suggests he would terminate a man’s career based upon unsubstantiated charges.”

  Seth studied the toe of his right boot and without looking up asked, “Mr. Secretary, where does this unemployed small town lawyer fit in to what you describe as a Mexican problem?’

  “We must know, the exact extent of Ambassador Wilson’s involvement, if any, with the overthrow of the Madero government and if he shared any collusion in the murders of Madero and Suarez.”

  “Whoa! You want me to find this out?”

  “I want you to go to Mexico as my special agent, with the unofficial knowledge and approval of the president. In addition, and this is most sensitive, to find out if our State Department also had any complicity in the overthrow and/or murders.”

  “Mr. Secretary, I’m still puzzled. Why me, you must have available numerous persons trained in this kind of activity.”

  Bryan smiled. “Oh, we have our share of experts, I daresay, but I don’t know these people yet or if they have close ties to the Ambassador. I need someone I can trust and who will be reporting only to me and the President. That is you, Seth Cane. I want you as my special agent.”

  Seth studied that famous face suspiciously. “There wouldn’t be any other reason, would there?”

  The Commoner nodded slowly. “Of course there is. You were there for me at the Convention, at some possible risk to yourself. You are a loyal deserving Democrat . More to the point, however, your mother was Mexican and I’m told you speak and read the language fairly well. Am I correct?”

  “Yes sure, nothing to brag on, but I reckon I can get by.

  My mother died when I was born and I was mostly raised by Consuelo Martinez, my father’s housekeeper , who spoke Spanish to me from when I was a baby. My father never approved.”

  “Nevertheless, it may serve you well down in Mexico, as will your legal background. But, mainly, we will be counting on your common sense and discretion in pursuing this inquiry. Your official public reason for going to Mexico City will be to make a special report to me, with the help of our consular personnel, regarding the nature, extent and status of the claims of our American citizens against the Mexican government for the loss of lives and property due to the fighting during the ten day revolution. This is a real mission. Unofficially, you will be concerned with the role of our Mr. Henry Lane Wilson.” Bryan turned toward the door where after a single knock, Mr. Davey stuck his head into the room. “Yes, Mr. Davey?”

  “I just had a return call on the telephone instrument from Mr. Tumulty.”

  “Yes?” Bryan asked.

  “He says the President can see you and Mr. Cane now, if you come directly over.”

  22

  THE SECRETARY OF STATE AND Seth walked quickly across Executive Avenue to the west wing entrance to the White House without speaking.

  Seth was wondering what he might be getting into. I don’t remember ever saying to Will that I would accept the job. The allegations against Ambassador Wilson were shocking and certainly deserved investigating. He just didn’t know whether he wanted to be an undercover special agent, whatever that was. But here he was accompanying the Secretary of State over to the White House to talk with the President about it. He had an uneasy feeling that act alone was going to lock him in to the job.

  A White House guard opened the door of the west wing, nodding to Bryan in recognition. Joseph Tumulty was standing at the door of the President’s office to greet them.

  “Good morning, Mr. Secretary. The President will be with you in a few minutes.”

  Bryan introduced Seth to the President’s Secretary. Seth felt the shrewd appraisal of the Irish politician while they were shaking hands. Then Tumulty smiled large. “We’ve had some good reports on you, Mr. Cane, from the Baltimore Convention.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I reckon my contributions there were rather small potatoes.”

  “Nonsense,” Bryan boomed. “Joe, Seth and his friend Alfalfa Bill Murray were unstinting in their defense of the gates of Progressivism against the Philistines who would have robbed us of the nomination.”

  Embarrassed, Seth gave Tumulty a look which he hoped would mitigate the Secretary’s effusiveness. Joe Tumulty, for his part, was familiar with the Commoner’s grandiloquent manner and read Seth’s look with an understanding grin.

  “I only wanted to say, Mr. Cane, that your efforts on our behalf at the convention did not go unmarked.”

  Seth was spared a reply by the opening of the President’s office door and the emergence of the tall, lean Secretary of the Treasury. Bryan strode over and grasped William Gibbs McAdoo’s hand. “Mr. Secretary, I trust the nation’s finances are in good order this morning.”

  McAdoo smiled. “If I can manage to get next door to my office, I might be able to give you a more informed answer to that question, Mr. Secretary.” Noticing
Seth, his smile widened and he came forward with extended hand. “Now, here is a face that I haven’t seen since Baltimore. Seth, my friend, how are you?”

  “I’m tolerable, Mr. Secretary. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “What are you doing in Washington—the Inauguration?”

  “Actually, a stroke of luck. I brought my daughter to enter school here.”

  “Great! If you have time, I hope you will come over to the department to see me. I might have a spot for you there.”

  “You are a little too late, Mac,” Bryan interjected. “I have already sequestered the services of our estimable young friend.”

  “Oh?” McAdoo said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, not exactly—,” Seth started to explain when Tumulty, coming out of the President’s office, announced that the President would see them now.

  McAdoo took Seth hastily aside and lowered his voice, “Look, Seth, if it doesn’t work out with Will here, come over to Treasury and let’s talk. Grand seeing you again.”

  The President was seated at his desk when they entered, studying a single sheet of paper on its uncluttered surface. They stood silent waiting for him to finish reading and acknowledge their presence. Without looking up, Wilson said, “Oh do have seats, I shall be finished shortly.”

  This was the first time Seth had had any opportunity to see the President close up and he studied the man with curiosity. There was the long face, straight nose, tight mouth and prominent chin that would be common in the Scottish highlands. When he unsmilingly glanced up one time at them, Seth thought that there was a face of the Puritan who would not lightly tolerate faults, stupidity or immoral lapses of other men.

  The President put the paper away in his desk drawer and looked at them with a fleeting smile. “My apology in keeping you waiting Mr. Secretary and Mr?”

  “Cane, Mr. President.” Bryan offered before Seth could reply. “Mr. Cane is a lawyer from Oklahoma who has done yeoman service in our Progressive cause for many years. I know him to be of sober, sound judgment and of trustworthy nature. I recommend him without reservation for the sensitive undertaking we have in mind.”