abandon America.”
As André spoke words detested under this roof, his mind suddenly reflected upon Boris Kuznetov. Kuznetov, a Russian who loved his country as he himself loved France. Kuznetov had paid the price for daring to be honest. How long could he, André, continue to hold these unpopular views?
“The return to glory,” André said, “is an illusion. The attempt to break NATO and the medieval mentality of our foreign policy to play one great power against the other with little power pools is establishing exactly the same conditions that led to the destruction of France twice in our lifetime. Oh, yes, President La Croix and company play their cards like masters. I predict they will go as far as to attempt to make France the broker between a union of Russia and Western Europe. And this will keynote tragedy for they don’t understand ... no one plays poker with the Russians. What keeps Soviet ambitions in check is not Pierre La Croix’s international table-hopping but the power of the United States.”
“That’s quite enough, Devereaux,” D’Arcy said, springing to his feet.
“Don’t count on me as a party to the destruction of NATO. As a Frenchman, I say there is no way, no way at all, that Western Europe can survive without the presence of the United States.” André arose and smiled. “You see, in fact, America is our leader.”
D’Arcy’s fist thumped on the desktop and his knuckles hurt. His round face turned apple crimson. “Such treasonous opinions have no place in French life today.”
“You mean, Monsieur l’Ambassadeur, that no opinion other than La Croix’s has a place. I beg to differ. That is not my France.”
12
I T WAS GOOD TO capture a moment of romance. Nicole looked radiant tonight in a lacy dressing gown on the other side of a candlelit table.
As the maid cleared the dishes, André leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek and thanked her, then luxuriated with a Jamaican cigar and a snifter of cognac.
“Darling, is this trip really necessary?” Nicole asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Dr. Kaplan doesn’t think it is.”
“He doesn’t run an intelligence establishment.”
In his business few details were shared with his wife. Nicole usually knew better than to ask.
“You’re going to Cuba, aren’t you?”
André grunted a little laugh and pinched her cheek.
“Well?”
“You’ve a good nose for intelligence.”
“Your health is not the only thing that disturbs me. The hostility against you at the Embassy is becoming quite apparent. I hear things and sense things that upset me. They say the Americans are just using you.”
“Indeed they are. However, I’ve always been perfectly willing to be used in the interest of France.”
“You and your twisting words. Lord, how I envy those people who live and breathe around us and who know a day of peace. Do you realize, André, since I’ve known you you’ve never really spent a day that you weren’t in battle? For twenty years, day in and day out, this war you’re in never stops. You bring it home with you, into the dining room, into the bedroom. As often as not I’m made to feel I’m looking at a detached stranger.”
“Well, darling, better luck in your next life. Maybe you’ll find a Tucker Brown IV.”
“Why does it always have to be you who does it? What about the others? Why are you the one always in the middle?”
“President Truman had a little sign on his desk. I’ve always admired its philosophy. It read: THE BUCK STOPS HERE . I’ve envied certain people, too, the great majority of my colleagues whose sole mission in life is to attain the goal of mediocrity. They sail into a safe harbor, button up and conveniently and quietly sort their paper clips, avoiding responsibility and decisions. I can’t explain, Nicole, why I was singled out and am unable to avoid conflict, but I can’t run or plug my ears or close my eyes or turn my back. I often envy those who can.”
She looked at him
As André spoke words detested under this roof, his mind suddenly reflected upon Boris Kuznetov. Kuznetov, a Russian who loved his country as he himself loved France. Kuznetov had paid the price for daring to be honest. How long could he, André, continue to hold these unpopular views?
“The return to glory,” André said, “is an illusion. The attempt to break NATO and the medieval mentality of our foreign policy to play one great power against the other with little power pools is establishing exactly the same conditions that led to the destruction of France twice in our lifetime. Oh, yes, President La Croix and company play their cards like masters. I predict they will go as far as to attempt to make France the broker between a union of Russia and Western Europe. And this will keynote tragedy for they don’t understand ... no one plays poker with the Russians. What keeps Soviet ambitions in check is not Pierre La Croix’s international table-hopping but the power of the United States.”
“That’s quite enough, Devereaux,” D’Arcy said, springing to his feet.
“Don’t count on me as a party to the destruction of NATO. As a Frenchman, I say there is no way, no way at all, that Western Europe can survive without the presence of the United States.” André arose and smiled. “You see, in fact, America is our leader.”
D’Arcy’s fist thumped on the desktop and his knuckles hurt. His round face turned apple crimson. “Such treasonous opinions have no place in French life today.”
“You mean, Monsieur l’Ambassadeur, that no opinion other than La Croix’s has a place. I beg to differ. That is not my France.”
12
I T WAS GOOD TO capture a moment of romance. Nicole looked radiant tonight in a lacy dressing gown on the other side of a candlelit table.
As the maid cleared the dishes, André leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek and thanked her, then luxuriated with a Jamaican cigar and a snifter of cognac.
“Darling, is this trip really necessary?” Nicole asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Dr. Kaplan doesn’t think it is.”
“He doesn’t run an intelligence establishment.”
In his business few details were shared with his wife. Nicole usually knew better than to ask.
“You’re going to Cuba, aren’t you?”
André grunted a little laugh and pinched her cheek.
“Well?”
“You’ve a good nose for intelligence.”
“Your health is not the only thing that disturbs me. The hostility against you at the Embassy is becoming quite apparent. I hear things and sense things that upset me. They say the Americans are just using you.”
“Indeed they are. However, I’ve always been perfectly willing to be used in the interest of France.”
“You and your twisting words. Lord, how I envy those people who live and breathe around us and who know a day of peace. Do you realize, André, since I’ve known you you’ve never really spent a day that you weren’t in battle? For twenty years, day in and day out, this war you’re in never stops. You bring it home with you, into the dining room, into the bedroom. As often as not I’m made to feel I’m looking at a detached stranger.”
“Well, darling, better luck in your next life. Maybe you’ll find a Tucker Brown IV.”
“Why does it always have to be you who does it? What about the others? Why are you the one always in the middle?”
“President Truman had a little sign on his desk. I’ve always admired its philosophy. It read: THE BUCK STOPS HERE . I’ve envied certain people, too, the great majority of my colleagues whose sole mission in life is to attain the goal of mediocrity. They sail into a safe harbor, button up and conveniently and quietly sort their paper clips, avoiding responsibility and decisions. I can’t explain, Nicole, why I was singled out and am unable to avoid conflict, but I can’t run or plug my ears or close my eyes or turn my back. I often envy those who can.”
She looked at him
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