by Allen Drury
“What would you people do,” Harley Hudson asked suddenly, “if I became President, recognized Red China, gave them a billion-dollar loan and started doing everything I could to divide the two of you?”
For just a second an expression of quite genuine alarm crossed the Soviet Ambassador’s face. It was followed quickly by another smile.
“Such precipitous action,” he said smoothly, “would hardly be characteristic of the great democracy which controls the free world.”
“Who knows?” the Vice President demanded, and he smiled too, looking like the amiable, easygoing Harley they had always known but with a sudden edge to him that was new to his friends. “Who knows,” he repeated softly, “what I would do if I were President of the United States? There isn’t a man in this entire world—perhaps I should say, now, entire universe—who knows what I would do, except the man who sits right here. So watch out, Mr. Ambassador. Watch out! The future might not be as simple as you think.”
Vasily Tashikov stared at him for several minutes until Harley, staring impassively back, made him lower his eyes.
“Yes,” he agreed. “We do not know. That is why my government wanted me to meet you, so that we might perhaps find out.”
“Well,” Harley said in a pleasant voice, “now that you’ve been given a little taste, I trust you will enjoy analyzing it.”
“You cannot bluff us!” Tashikov said in sudden anger, and Krishna Khaleel sucked in his breath with a sharp sound. The Secretary of State sat forward calmly.
“Nor you us, Mr. Tashikov,” he said quietly. “So there we are.”
“There you have always been!” the Indian Ambassador remarked brightly “Is it not so?”
The French Ambassador made a little gesture, one of those things that made people say, “So French!” because, of course, it was French.
“How many times,” he said, “has our dear colleague from the great subcontinent restored amicability and reason to heated discussions. How many times has that significant and commanding hisssss (and he prolonged it for a moment) brought us up short when passions were running away!...As for my government,” he said dryly, “we are impressed by the achievement of the Soviet Government, but we are no more afraid of her, and no more inclined to submit ourselves to her blackmail, than we were before. And that was not at all.”
“We are losing the subject of the visit,” the Soviet Ambassador said harshly. “We came here to talk to the President.”
“I’m not the President,” Harley Hudson said pleasantly, “but I know he feels the same way, and will tell the world so when he speaks tonight.”
“Do you not think, Mr. Vice President,” the Soviet Ambassador asked softly, “of the enormous and fearsome responsibilities which some fluke of fate or nature might put suddenly in your hands? Do you not wonder how you would deal with all these vast problems that confront your country as she tries without success to match the progress of the U.S.S.R.? Do you not feel some doubts about your abilities to handle them?”
“I certainly do,” Harley Hudson said with an agreeable laugh. “But,” he added, “many a man has become President feeling doubts about his ability to handle his problems. They’ve all managed somehow, some better than others but they’ve all done it, and we’ve gotten along. I dare say we would get along under me. What was your suggestion, Mr. Ambassador,” he asked suddenly, “that you be allowed to appoint a regent for me if the situation should arise?”
The Soviet Ambassador looked slightly off balance—in fact, Orrin thought with some admiration, Harley seemed to have kept him there pretty much all through the conversation—and made a gesture of protest and denial.
“Oh, of course, Mr. Vice President,” he said, “of course I do not suggest anything so fantastic. But these are serious times for your country. And now that the U.S.S.R. has achieved this great victory, they are even more serious.”
“Victories can be matched,” Harley said bluntly, and Senator Knox decided the President must have told him too, an unusual sign of confidence that made him wonder for a sharp second about the President’s own judgment of his health on this climactic day.
“Not always,” Vasily Tashikov said quietly. “No, Mr. Vice President, not always.”
“Well,” Harley said. “In any event. Obviously the United States is not frightened, so if that was the initial aim, it has failed.”
“Lack of fright can sometimes come from ignorance as well as bravery,” the Soviet Ambassador said sharply, and the three Americans started to react in unison so angrily that Lord Maudulayne decided it was time to speak up in his best drawl.
“I say, old boy!” he said, sounding as though the whole Commonwealth and Empire were suddenly looking down its collective nose at this little urchin before him. Raoul Barre came in on cue with a laugh to ease the tension.
“Good old Claude,” he said affectionately. “You know, I sometimes think that on the Day of Judgment, when the last bomb has fallen and the last trump has sounded, and our gracious friends in the Kremlin have finally had their way with civilization, and there are ten people left living on the earth—that suddenly one of them will speak up and he will say, ‘I say, old boy!’ in just that tone of voice. And automatically all the rest will feel inferior.”
The others laughed, but the Soviet Ambassador suddenly looked terribly angry.
“That is ridiculous!” he said. “There will be no such day. There will be no bombs falling. There will not be ten people left. And certainly,” he concluded spitefully, “one of them will not be English!”
Lord Maudulayne smiled blandly.
“I should hope, old boy,” he said, “that they all were.”
“Well,” the Vice President said with a businesslike air, “I feel that we all have much to do, and must not prolong this conversation too long. I hope Mr. Tashikov may have received the idea that the Vice President of the United States is not inhibited by the Soviet Union’s latest achievement. And the rest of you, too, if that was why you came here.”
“We wished,” Krishna Khaleel said politely, “to talk to your Excellency, whom we had not seen intimately in Washington—”
“I’m modest,” Harley Hudson said dryly. “I’m the kind they list under the statement, ‘His Vice President was—
“Well,” K.K. said uncertainly, “we wished to know you and have you know us, in case—in case events developed as—as there is some thought they might.”
“I thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” the Vice President said calmly. “Let us all hope these events do not develop. As for those events which have developed, the events which the Soviet Union has precipitated and is trying to precipitate, let me make my position clear once more to take back to your governments.
“I am fully in accord with the policies of the President. If I were unhappily to succeed him, a possibility that cannot entirely be ignored in all our plans, my only change, if any, would be to strengthen them insofar as the Soviet Union is concerned. In this,” he said, looking questioningly at Senator Knox, “I believe I would have the support of the Senate—?”
“You would, Mr. Vice President,” Orrin said firmly. “The Senate has been impatient for a long time that the leadership wasn’t strong enough, I believe. We would back you in everything you wanted to do. I think I can give that assurance.”
“Even in China?” Lord Maudulayne asked, and the Vice President took back the conversation with a friendly smile.
“I would not be entirely sure where I stand on China, if I were you,” he said. “As I said earlier, it is just something for Mr. Tashikov to consider. I might do that or I might not. I will let Mr. Tashikov and his government find out, if it should come to that. But even there,” he said, and he looked challengingly at the Senator from Illinois, “I should expect to have the support of the Senate. Would I?”
Orrin hesitated for a moment, because quite suddenly they all realized that the Vice President was not fooling, that this was a fundamental and calculated step he was taking to
fortify himself in case events moved toward his accession. This was, should it turn out to be so, the start of a new Administration, right here and now.
And because under the circumstances as Harley had arranged them there was only one answer he could give, the Senator from Illinois decided to give it decisively and without quibble.
“The Senate will support you in whatever you deem best,” he said firmly. “And that includes China and anything else you may wish to do.”
“Well, then,” Harley said comfortably, “I guess I don’t need to worry, whatever the future may bring.”
There was a little pause while they digested the implications of this, and then the Indian Ambassador spoke abruptly.
“If I may ask,” he said, “what is the fate of Mr. Leffingwell to be?”
“The fate of Mr. Leffingwell,” Orrin said shortly, “is to be defeated.”
“This is your final decision?” the Soviet Ambassador asked, and the Senator from Illinois looked at him with distaste.
“You don’t know much about us, do you?” he said. “This isn’t my decision. It’s the Senate’s decision.”
“I know enough about you,” Vasily Tashikov said dryly, “to know that at this moment you are the Senate.”
“Must he be defeated?” Krishna Khaleel asked regretfully. “My government was so hoping—we had so counted—”
“Yes,” Senator Knox said. “Well. Your government, I regret to say, will have to make other plans. Mr. Leffingwell will be defeated.”
“It is not wise,” Tashikov said thoughtfully. “He is our friend. You will need a friend of ours in that office. It is not wise.”
The Secretary of State made an impatient movement.
“Mr. Ambassador,” he asked, “haven’t you learned that you really can’t name the American Secretary of State, no matter how hard you try? Surely you’ve discovered that with me.”
“At least,” the Soviet Ambassador said spitefully, “it will no longer be you. At least we can be happy about that much!”
“I don’t regret a single thing I’ve done to stop you,” Secretary Sheppard said flatly. “I’d do it all again tomorrow, and I hope my successor, whoever he may be, will do the same.”
“It will not be possible,” the Soviet Ambassador said smugly, “for this is no longer the world in which you were Secretary of State. This is a new world which began at 12:30 p.m. Eastern standard time.”
The Vice President smiled.
“Just possibly the world will not agree with you on that, Mr. Ambassador,” he said. “Maybe our clocks are still running on the old time. We shall have to see.” He stood and they perforce did the same. He held out his hand.
“Mr. Tashikov,” he said, “an enlightening visit. My congratulations again to your country on her marvelous accomplishment which we hope,” he said with a little twinkle, “to be inspired to equal. You can tell your government, I think, that whatever happens the United States will still have a President.” He smiled in a kindly way. “That was what you came here to find out, wasn’t it?”
“I shall tell my government of our interesting conversation,” the Soviet Ambassador said without replying to the question.
“All of it,” the Vice President suggested, and the Ambassador scowled.
“Of course, all of it,” he said. The automatic smile broke forth about the lips.
“I shall tell them,” he said, almost waggishly, “that we must watch you closely.”
The Vice President gave a perfectly relaxed and untroubled laugh.
“Everybody will!” he said, and it struck them that he didn’t sound in the least worried by the prospect.
“Mr. Khaleel,” he said, “it was nice to see you. Stop up again, when you have the chance, and we will talk some more. I am sure your ancient country has much to give this new and growing one of ours.”
“Yes,” K.K. said, sounding flattered. “I should like that.”
“Claude and Raoul,” Harley said, holding out a hand to each, “it is always good to see old friends. Perhaps you too will make a habit of coming round.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vice President,” Raoul said, and with a sudden disdain he looked at his colleague from the U.S.S.R. “If you need assistance at Geneva—or anywhere—I think my government will be quite disposed to provide it. And this,” he added, “in spite of men in the moon and other hobgoblins of our happy and enlightened century.”
The Vice President laughed.
“Now you are making Mr. Tashikov unhappy,” he said. “He has stopped smiling.”
The Soviet Ambassador turned back at the door.
“You are fools,” he said in sudden anger. “All you westerners are fools. You are dead, but you do not know it.”
Lord Maudulayne smiled.
“My dear fellow,” he said with a note of impatience, “my country has been dead innumerable times in the past thousand years and hasn’t known it. That’s why we’re here today.” And suddenly he didn’t sound diplomatic at all, but angry in his turn with an emotion they had never seen him display. “And now get along,” he said, spitting the words out. “Just get along. I for one am sick to death of the sight and the sound of you. So get on, and be quick about it!”
And before the Soviet Ambassador, suddenly livid, could speak, he had turned his back upon him and held out his hand a final time to Harley.
“Mr. Vice President,” he said quietly, “God bless you.” The diplomat’s mask came back and he smiled at the French Ambassador. “Come along, Raoul,” he said. “I think Celestine and Kitty want to attend the session tonight, and I expect we’d better get on home and see about getting some dinner first.”
And taking his colleague firmly by the arm he brushed past the Soviet Ambassador without a glance; and after a moment, while the Indian Ambassador fluttered and twittered nervously about him, Tashikov too with some obvious struggle regained his professional composure and trailed by his worried colleague stomped out through the reception room to the elevator, and his waiting limousine.
After they had gone there was silence for a little while as the Vice President and his friends looked at one another. Presently the Vice President began to laugh and they joined him, not sure why, at first, but after a moment quite genuinely amused.
“I thought the Crimean War was going to start all over again,” Harley said finally. Howie Sheppard smiled.
“I don’t think we need to worry about our friends supporting us, whatever befalls,” he said. The Vice President nodded.
“It’s good to know,” he said thoughtfully. He paused and shot a look at the Senator from Illinois.
“Well, Orrin,” he said. “How did I do?”
Orrin smiled, started to answer lightly, and then found that he was suddenly quite serious.
“I’m proud of you,” he said; and because he was surprised to find that he really was, he repeated it slowly; “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Harley said, and he looked rather proud of himself.
“I’ve got to get back to the floor,” Orrin said, standing up abruptly. “Why don’t you stick around, Howie? It ought to be interesting to see the windup.”
Secretary Sheppard smiled in a tight-lipped way.
“Considering my personal feelings in the matter,” he said, “I doubt if that would be seemly, would it? Anyway, the President wants me at the White House for his speech. What time are you planning the vote?”
The Senator from Illinois looked at the Vice President speculatively.
“I think it might be better, don’t you,” Harley said, “to wait until after he speaks?”
Orrin nodded.
“Yes, we ought to give him that much,” he said. “It wouldn’t look good to have to go on the air right after taking a licking from the Senate.”
“You’re quite sure under all the circumstances that it’s right to make him take a licking?” Harley asked, and the Senator’s jaw set.
“Yes,” he said, “I am.”
; The Vice President nodded.
“All right,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure you were sure.”
Orrin Knox smiled without amusement.
“I’m sure,” he said.
It was quite possible that when the President of the United States spoke at 8 p.m. his worldwide audience was even greater than that which had attended the Soviet broadcast earlier in the day. The world wanted to know how the United States intended to meet this challenge, and although the Voice of America had carried the full text of the speech by the Senator from Illinois on all wave lengths all afternoon, the final and definitive word of course had to come from the head of state. Promptly at eight the announcers said, “We take you now to the White House for a special address by the President of the United States,” on the screens the presidential seal appeared, and in the lobbies and cloakrooms of the Senate, once more in temporary recess, as in all other places reachable by air or channel around the world, men and women prepared to listen. For the second time in eight hours a hush quite literally fell upon the globe. Into it a man who looked so tired and strained that his countrymen gasped in dismay spoke in a voice that sounded muffled and heavy in the beginning but presently began to gather vigor as it continued.
“My countrymen:” he said, “peoples of the earth:
“I should tell you first that there departed Earth at 2:01 a.m. our time a United States expedition to the moon. This launching was completely successful, and all information received by our scientists indicates that the expedition should reach objective sometime on Sunday.
“When it does,” he said, and his voice began to pick up sarcasm and strength, “there will be no pompous and pretentious claim that the United States owns the moon. There will be a broadcast which will, we hope, give some information on the fascinating new world now opening up to humanity, and there will be a sane recognition of the facts of life as they apply to it.
“No nation owns the moon. And,” he added coldly, “no nation ever will own the moon. If mere man can be so arrogant as to say he ‘owns’ that distant sphere, all nations will ‘own’ it, and they will own it jointly, for the United States expedition is instructed to claim the moon for the United Nations and to plant thereon the flag of the United Nations.
