As Jon Hansen was shown into the office, Ambassador Hartzog sat at his desk, talking on the phone. It was an obvious snub for the Israeli Ambassador not to greet him and Hansen recognized that this was not a positive sign. As Hansen waited he couldn't help but overhear Hartzog's conversation, which didn't sound like very important business. This made the snub all the worse; if he had been talking to his wife, Hansen would have written this off, but to be talking business on the phone with some bureaucrat while a guest Ambassador waited was inexcusable. What made it even worse was that undoubtedly Hartzog realized that Hansen was not only a fellow Delegate; he most probably would be the next Secretary-General.
Nearly three minutes later the Israeli Ambassador finally hung up the phone and joined Hansen. He made no apology for the delay and immediately began by calling Hansen by his first name, even though the two had never been formally introduced – the Israeli Ambassador having just been assigned to the U.N. What a cheeky ass, thought Hansen.
'So, Jon, what have you come to offer us?'
Hansen held his temper like a true Englishman. 'Reason, Mr. Ambassador. Reason.'
'You have brought me a reason that Israel should cut her own throat?' Hartzog asked, mockingly.
'No. I have… '
Ambassador Hartzog cut off Hansen before he could even begin. 'Ambassador Hansen,' he said, now becoming formal, 'my government considers the decision by the General Assembly to reorganize the Security Council along regional lines a noble gesture. It is, unfortunately, one with which we cannot abide. Did it not cross your mind that by restructuring the Security Council on a regional basis and then grouping Israel with the other nations of the Middle East, you would force us into a position where we would constantly be at the mercy of our Arab neighbors? In case you were not aware, Israel has a Jewish population of four million. We are surrounded by twenty-three Arab nations with a total population of two hundred and thirty-five million. Now, tell me, just what do you think Israel's chances are of having a representative on the Security Council who is favorable to our country?' Hartzog paused and then added, 'Most of those bastards still haven't acknowledged that Israel even exists!'
'But leaving the U.N. is not the answer, Mr. Ambassador,' Hansen said, finally getting a word in.
'Unless you can make some guarantees… perhaps by increasing the number of seats on the Security Council to eleven and guaranteeing that seat to Israel… ' Hartzog paused for Hansen's reaction. He was certain Hansen would never agree to such a proposal, but as Hartzog saw it, he had nothing to lose.
'You know we can't do that,' Hansen responded. 'It would destroy the whole restructuring. There's no way we can make that kind of an exception for Israel without setting the precedent for others wanting the same exception for themselves.' Hansen didn't mention it but there was another precedent he didn't want to set: that of having a nation leave the U.N. It had never been done before.
'Then there seems little choice,' Hartzog concluded.
'Mr. Ambassador, if Israel leaves the U.N., you will be giving in to the very countries you fear. They'd like nothing more than to see Israel out of the United Nations.'
'Unfortunately you are correct. But neither can we stay.'
The conversation did not improve and Hansen left without having gained an inch of ground. When he returned to his office he was met by Decker Hawthorne. 'How'd it go?' Decker asked.
'Not well,' Hansen answered in understatement. 'Israel is just too damn cheeky about what happened with the Russian Federation.'
'But they've acknowledged that their strategic defense had nothing to do with the premature detonation of the Soviet Missiles, so what do they have to be so arrogant about?' Decker really wanted to say 'cheeky' too, instead of 'arrogant,' but he didn't think he could say it without sounding as though he was poking fun.
'The official position of the Knesset is that the destruction of the Russian missiles was a miracle of God.'
'You don't think the Israeli ambassador actually believes that, do you?' asked Decker.
'The point is, a great many of the Israeli people believe it.' Hansen said and then shook his head and sighed. 'Hell, I can't really blame them for their response to restructuring, though. It doesn't offer them much to look forward to.'
Chapter 18
Revelation
Seven years later
Decker shook the rain from his umbrella, unbuttoned his raincoat, and walked past the U.N. guard toward the main elevators.
'Good morning, Mr. Hawthorne,' the guard said. 'And happy birthday!'
Decker paused long enough to smile and nod. 'Thank you, Charlie,' he responded.
How the hell did he remember that? Decker wondered, as he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the thirty-eighth floor. Once he reached the top floor of the United Nations Secretariat building, Decker proceeded to his office, three doors down from the office of Secretary-General Jon Hansen. The view of the East River and Queens from Decker's office was almost obscured by the rain beating hard against the window.
Decker looked through the notes on his desk to decide what he wanted to do first this morning. Among the neatly disorganized clutter on the desk were two photographs: one of Decker with Elizabeth, Hope and Louisa taken in that brief period between his escape from Lebanon and the Disaster, and a two-year-old picture of Christopher at his graduation from the Masters program at the United Nations University for Peace in Costa Rica.
Other than being Decker's fifty-eighth birthday it was an ordinary day at the U.N., a fact for which Decker was grateful. As Director of Public Affairs for Secretary-General Jon Hansen, Decker had been personally involved in much of the planning and implementation of the worldwide United Nations Day celebration three days earlier, so the return to normalcy was welcome. The observance of the U.N.'s founding had been a big success, with celebrations in nearly 220 of the 265 member nations. Secretary-General Hansen placed great importance on the event. He wanted it to be bigger and better each year in order to build public acceptance and support for the U.N. and its programs. In some countries the U.N. Day celebration had actually grown more important than the individual nations' own 'birthday' celebrations. There were a few countries where they might have even dispensed with their own national celebrations altogether were it not for the fact that it was an extra day off for the bureaucrats.
Relatively speaking, the world was at peace; and Decker was, for the moment, at rest, recovering from the massive effort of coordinating celebrations in more than a dozen time zones.
Twenty minutes later Decker finally let Mary Polk, his secretary, know that he was officially 'in.' 'Mr. Hawthorne,' Mary said in surprise, 'I didn't see you come in. Have you forgotten about your meeting this morning with the Secretary-General?'
'What meeting?' Decker asked.
'You're scheduled for a meeting with the Secretary-General this morning. It was supposed to start about fifteen minutes ago. Jackie has already called twice to find out where you were.'
'Oh, no! Why didn't you check to see if I was here?' Decker asked, but didn't wait for an answer. 'Call Jackie and tell her I'll be right there.' It was only about thirty yards to Secretary-General Hansen's office, so Decker was at the door only seconds after Mary reached Jackie Hansen on the phone.
'They're waiting for you in the conference room,' Jackie said as Decker altered his course toward the adjoining room and opened the door.
'Surprise!' about three dozen voices suddenly yelled in unison.
In the center of the crowd stood Secretary-General and Mrs. Hansen. Both seemed to be enjoying the surprised look on Decker's face. It was incumbent on Decker to laugh, but all he could manage at first was a pained moan and a disbelieving shake of the head. Finally an appreciative smile broke through. Behind Decker, Mary Polk entered the room to join the party. 'You're in big trouble,' Decker told his secretary as he caught sight of her.
