were now alone. “All right, Wanda-”
“Are we private?”
“Absolutely.” The restrained tightness of her voice troubled him. “Wanda, what is it? Are you all right? Is there anything wrong?”
“I don’t know, Doug. I wanted to phone you all morning, but it was dangerous, so-”
“Dangerous?” What could be dangerous on a crisp, beautiful American morning? “Wanda, I don’t-”
“Wait, Doug, listen. I had to hold back until lunch, so I could get away without being obvious. I’m in a grocery store booth now. There’s so much that’s been-” She paused as if to organize her thoughts, and then her low modulated voice came through the telephone swiftly but clearly. “Our office was chaos this morning. Mr. Gar had summoned all the Vaduz associates from New York, Savannah, Galveston, San Francisco. There was so much pressure and haste, I think half the time they forgot I was there. Anyway, I was able to piece things together, and I could see how it might affect you, and thought you should know about it.” She caught her breath, then continued. “Doug, the agricultural equipment Vaduz Exporters has been sending out these last months to their home warehouses in Liechtenstein, it wasn’t entirely farm equipment, but weapons, small arms, machine guns, ammunition. My company was using Liechtenstein only as a cover-up. The weapons were actually being shipped on behind the Iron Curtain to Bulgaria and Albania, and from there to-to certain parts of Africa.”
“You mean Baraza? The Communists are shipping weapons to Baraza?”
“I heard Baraza mentioned once. I’m almost certain of it.”
Shaken, Dilman said, “And your company, Vaduz Exporters, they’re actually a Communist Front over here?”
“A trading corporation for the Soviet Union. I’m positive.”
“Wanda, did you ever have an inkling of this before?”
“Never, not once. Everything exploded early this morning. There were these people pouring in, rushing around like insane, and I was one of several ordered to burn duplicates of procurement orders that had gone out, duplicates of orders I had never seen, typed by someone else, kept by Gar in his office vault. I could read bits and pieces before the stuff went into the incinerator, and I could see Vaduz was shipping weapons and they were winding up eventually in Communist hands in African ports. But the main thing-”
“Wanda, what alerted them to destroy everything this morning?”
“I was just going to tell you, Doug. That’s the main thing. I heard CIA mentioned twice. I was all ears for everything by then, but I don’t think anyone realized I was listening. But Gar said their informant knew of a special CIA report that had gone to you about a Communist weapons buildup in or around Baraza, and by now Vaduz was probably under surveillance, and orders were-whose orders, I have no idea-orders were to take precautionary measures. This may all be unreliable, Doug, but something
“I’m supposed to, Wanda, but I haven’t seen any CIA report like that one. I know nothing about a weapons buildup around Baraza. In fact, I was just having lunch with the United Nations delegates, telling them how the Russians promised me hands off.”
“Doug, maybe-” Wanda’s tone had become uncertain. “I’m sure I haven’t got any of this wrong, but maybe I’m reading wrong things into what I’ve heard and seen. It’s just that I’m so worried about you. Maybe you should-I mean, don’t depend too much on what I’ve said-but on your own, I think-”
“You did the right thing, Wanda, calling me. If there is nothing to it, fine, nothing lost. On the other hand, if what you’ve reported can be verified-” He was full of it now, his mind straining in every direction, until he realized that Wanda was still on the other end, in a telephone booth, worried, perhaps frightened. “Wanda-?”
“Yes-?”
“Thank you for this. I’ll look into it immediately. There’s one thing I want you to do for me. I want you to quit Vaduz, get out of there as fast as you can.”
“Yes, I had decided to do that myself, even if it’s a false alarm. I’m afraid of them, what might happen. Even if I’ve blown this up out of all proportion, the money isn’t worth the worry in staying on. I’ll give Mr. Gar notice tonight. Doug, I’d better run. No matter what, do be careful.”
“You be careful, Wanda. I’d give anything to see you. Well-I’ll call you, let you know at home-tonight, tomorrow night latest. Good-bye.”
After hanging up, Dilman remained very still. He suffered a curious sensation of loss, and then of inertia induced by helplessness. He tried to liken his reaction to that which he had known the evening he had vetoed the Minorities Rehabilitation Bill. On that occasion, after his act of rebellion and the bitter response to it, he had felt that he had cut himself adrift from his crew. He had been pervaded by, almost overwhelmed by, the awesome experience of loneliness. He had turned the ship of state into an open boat on a running sea, and he was not sure that he could navigate it, without help, to port. But the sense of aloneness then had not engulfed him. He had gone on. He had tried.
This was different. If the danger to which Wanda had alerted him had any reality-and she was not one to panic, to convert rumor into fact, to exaggerate-then he had not cut himself adrift from his crew by his own choice, but had been forced into the helpless isolation of an open boat by hostile mutineers. His own crew had conspired against him, to take over the ship of state and to let him sink.
For the first time, the full realization of what might be happening struck him: he was President in name only, while those around him, without his knowledge, were at the helm, performing the functions of high command.
If this was the case-and now his strength was revived by growing anger-he would not go down, and let the country go down, because other hands had tried to heave him overboard and themselves take control. He was still President of the United States, possessed of the total authority of the executive branch, and he still had enough of a crew at his beck and call to use this authority.
He lifted the telephone from the hook, identified himself to the White House operator, and asked for Edna Foster.
“Miss Foster? Two things. Confidential. Contact Bob Lombardi at the FBI. Notify him I want to see the complete files on every foreign subversive organization, and especially those under suspicion of being Communist Fronts, located in this immediate area. Do you have that?
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“I want the information on my desk by two-thirty today. Second thing-” He thought about it. He had met the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency only three times, and never once in private. He wondered if he could trust him, or if the Director was in the conspiracy against him, if such there was, and then he decided that he had no choice of action. If he could not trust the CIA, he was lost anyway. “Get hold of Montgomery Scott at Central Intelligence. Tell him I want to see the original, unedited daily reports, for every day of the past month, on every one of the African Unity Pact countries, especially those on Baraza.”
“Mr. President, if I may say so, we do have a complete file of these CIA reports in our-”
“I know we have copies, Miss Foster. And I know the Secretary of State has copies. I need the originals. Tell Scott I want to see him personally, along with the original reports, in my office at three o’clock sharp.”
“I’ll have to rearrange your appointments. And I want to leave you time to rest up before tonight’s dinner-”
“Do whatever you have to. But Scott is top priority. Understand?”
He hung up, then recalled that he had left the United Nations delegation in Eaton’s hands. He was in no mood for the delegates now, especially when he was less certain about the durability of the worldwide peace he had achieved at Chantilly, but he must return to the table. At least they must be prompted to remember that he was President.
Quickly he crossed the Red Room, and as he reached out to open the door, he realized that it had not been entirely closed during his telephone conversation. He must remind Miss Watson to be less hasty and slipshod in the future. He would hate to have had the valet or the other servants overhear any of his conversation with Wanda, and then use it as fodder for their backstairs gossip.
He looked down the vast hall, and in the distance he could see a girl in a white blouse and blue skirt rushing to her work. Not until she had gone around the corner and out of sight did he remember that Sally Watson had worn a white blouse and blue skirt today. It was too late to call out to her and reprimand her. It was also unimportant, considering what was on his mind and what the afternoon ahead held for him.
