'I'm terribly sorry about your families,' Hansen offered. Decker nodded appreciation.
'Mr. Ambassador,' Christopher said politely, waiting for permission before continuing.
'Yes, Christopher,' Hansen replied.
'I'm very interested in the work being done by the World Health Organization on the cause of the Disaster. Are they any closer to determining its cause?'
'Well, Christopher,' Hansen began, pleased at the boy's interest, 'they tell me they've been able to determine several hundred things that it was not. So, I guess that's progress. But they still don't know what it was. I have faith in them though. They'll figure it out soon, I'm sure. They do feel pretty certain that whatever it was, it's probably no longer a threat.'
Christopher seemed satisfied with the answer.
'So,' Hansen asked Christopher, 'is this your first trip to the United Nations?'
'Yes, sir,' Christopher answered. 'Is your office in this building?'
'Oh, no. I think most people assume that the delegates' offices are here at the U.N., but actually each country has its own mission elsewhere in the city. The British Mission is about four blocks from here on Dag Hammarskjold Plaza, which is really the same as Second Street.'
'Christopher is quite a big fan of the U.N., so I brought him along,' Decker interjected. 'He's scheduled for the 1:30 tour.'
'Well, why don't we walk Christopher over to where the tour starts, and then we can go over to my office.'
When Decker and Hansen reached the British Mission on the 28th floor of One Dag Hammarskjold Plaza, they were met at the door by an attractive blonde woman in her late twenties who stood at least six feet two inches tall, just two inches shorter than Hansen. Decker was struck not only by her height but also by her remarkable resemblance to the Ambassador. The features were softer, the skin smoother and younger, but there was no mistaking the kinship.
'Mr. Ambassador,' she said hurriedly as Hansen and Decker entered through the lobby, past the security desk, 'Ambassador Fahd called. He said that it was urgent that he speak with you. He left a number but said if you didn't call soon you may not be able to reach him. I'll place the call,' she said as she went quickly to her desk and Hansen went to his office.
'Decker, come on in and have a seat,' Hansen said, not pausing to look back.
Hansen's office was large with sturdy antique furnishings and solid wood paneling. Decker sat down in a comfortable leather chair facing Hansen's desk while Hansen sat down and drummed his fingers on the desk in front of the phone.
'It's ringing,' came the young woman's heavily accented voice from the outer office.
Hansen picked up the receiver and waited as the phone rang for nearly a minute. 'There's no answer, Jackie,' he said to his assistant. 'Try it again.'
Hansen waited anxiously as, this time, Jackie listened while the phone rang. Still there was no answer.
'Okay,' Hansen said. 'Well, there's nothing we can do then except wait until he calls back and hope nothing happens in the meantime.' Hansen turned his attention back to Decker.
'Ambassador Fahd?' Decker quizzed, before Hansen could speak. 'Isn't he the Ambassador from Jordan?'
'Yes, we're old friends. School chums, actually. Oxford, class of '62. We've worked together on a number of projects for the U.N.'
'Like the Middle East project that your committee is preparing a report on?'
'Well, yes. But tell me, how can I help you?'
'Well,' Decker began, unsure of why Hansen would interrupt the conversation on the Middle East project and in the next breath ask how he could help. That, after all, was what Decker understood this meeting to be about. Could Hansen have forgotten the purpose of the interview? 'I'd like to ask you some questions about the Committee's report,' Decker finally responded.
'But, Decker, surely you know that that information is strictly confidential,' Hansen answered in surprise.
'Wait a second,' Decker said slowly, the confusion showing in his voice. 'Didn't you agree to talk with me about the report?'
'Of course not!' Hansen was taken aback at the whole idea, but there was no anger in his voice. He was simply surprised.
'What exactly did my editor tell you I wanted to talk with you about?'
'Well, Mr. Asher… your editor?' Hansen asked, seeking verification. Decker nodded painfully, embarrassed by the course this meeting was taking. 'He said that you wanted to do some sort of profile piece on me for your magazine.'
Decker dropped his forehead into his open hand and expelled a deep breath in frustration and embarrassment. 'Mr. Ambassador,' he said, 'I'm afraid that you and I have both been misled. Hank Asher told me that I was to interview you about your report; that you had refused to talk to other reporters about it; but that you were willing to talk with me.'
'Well, now that wouldn't be quite fair, would it?'
'I'm sorry, Mr. Ambassador,' Decker said as he felt his face redden. 'I should have thought to question him when he told me you had agreed to talk with me. I guess I let him appeal to my vanity. I – stupidly, I realize now – thought you would… Oh, never mind.'
Ambassador Hansen's response to this revelation was completely unexpected: he just laughed. It was a friendly laugh.
'I don't understand,' Decker said. 'What's so funny?'
'I'd like to meet this Mr. Asher of yours. He must be quite a good judge of a man's character. I could use a few people like him on my staff.'
Decker's expression showed that he still didn't understand.
'Oh, but don't you see, Decker? He pulled the same trick on the both of us. I didn't even think to question his motives when he said that you wanted to write a profile story on me. I, too, was a victim of my own vanity.'
Decker forced a smile. He didn't think it was very funny but he didn't want to deny the Ambassador his fun. And, besides, it was much better to have him laughing than angry. 'Well,' Decker said after a moment, 'I don't see any reason we shouldn't go ahead and do that profile. Maybe we can still get the last laugh on Hank Asher. You'll get the coverage. And he won't be able to say I didn't bring back the story.'
'I like the way you think, Mr. Hawthorne. You'd make a fine politician,' he said in all sincerity.
Decker wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not.
Christopher Goodman stayed close to the guide as she took the U.N. tour group through two of the three council chambers – first the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC), and then the Security Council Chamber. From there, they went to the Hall of the General Assembly. As they were leaving the General Assembly, Christopher went to look over the balcony at the visitor's lobby four floors below them. Midway between floors hung a replica of the Russian Sputnik, the first artificial satellite.
At that moment a group of men and women approached the rear entrance to the Hall of the General Assembly, led by a man in his early seventies. Each member of the group was politely but intently jockeying for position, staying far enough back to be respectful but close enough to hear what the man was saying and hoping to be the next to ask him a question. From their clothing it was obvious that they represented many different cultures and nationalities.
'I consider,' the man was saying, 'Secretary-General U Thant to have been not only my political mentor but my spiritual mentor as well. It was while I was serving him as Assistant Secretary-General that I first learned… ' The man stopped suddenly in mid-sentence and turned sharply to examine the profile of the boy he had noticed out of the corner of his eye.
'What is it, Mr. Assistant Secretary?' someone asked, but for the moment he seemed unable to respond as he stared at the boy.
Christopher turned and saw that his tour group had moved on and was preparing to board an elevator. In his rush to rejoin the group he didn't even seem to notice the attention of the old man or the others in the entourage as he scrambled directly through their midst, coming within scant inches of the old man and then dashing away to reach his tour group before the elevator's doors closed.
