A Shade of Difference (42 page)

“I imagine it’s hard for you to trust me, at that,” he said with a blandness of his own, “considering how many opportunities there are for an American Negro to be critical of his country if he wants to be. But you can believe me, Mr. President. I follow the policy of this government when the delegation agrees on something. You can ask Senator Fry or Senator Smith. They know they can count on me.”

The President studied him thoughtfully.

“What’s going to happen on this amendment of Ambassador Labaiya’s?”

“We may take a licking,” LeGage said without hesitation.

“Why aren’t you up there trying to persuade some of them to vote with us?” Orrin Knox asked abruptly. “Isn’t that more important than organizing demonstrations down here?”

“In a way, you know,” LeGage said, “the demonstrations can almost be taken as a sign of good faith on our part. It shows we’re sorry for what happened.”

“I’ve
shown we’re sorry for what happened,” the President said with a sudden annoyance. “Why is it incumbent upon you to do anything about it?”

LeGage looked startled by his tone and, either genuinely or disingenuously—they could not be sure—seemed abashed.

“It’s important,” he said lamely. “It’s a symbol of something.”

“Something we can do without, I think,” the Secretary of State told him. “Why don’t you show him that communication, Mr. President? I doubt if he’ll understand it any other way.”

A glint of real dislike flared in the eyes of the chairman of DEFY, but he changed it hastily to one of noncommittal interest.

“What communication is that?”

“This,” the President said, tossing a cabled dispatch across the desk to him. “Read it aloud and you’ll see how it’s sounding on all of the broadcasts of the world, right about now.”

“Moscow,” LeGage read with a puzzled smile that slowly vanished as he went along. “The chairman of the Council of Ministers today issued the following statement on events in the United States:

“The U.S.S.R. has witnessed with dismay and condemnation the shameful treatment by the United States Government and people of the noble fighter for democracy, the representative of the freedom-loving peoples of Africa, His Royal Highness the M’Bulu of Mbuele.

“The U.S.S.R. has noted the continuing hateful discrimination by the United States against all members of the colored races, including those within its own borders.

“The U.S.S.R. unreservedly condemns these actions by the government of the United States. It appeals to all freedom-loving peoples everywhere, including those of the colored races within the United States, to take the strongest possible steps to oppose these actions of the government of the United States which are universally condemned by mankind.

“The U.S.S.R. applauds the vigorous protests by United States Negro groups against these shameful practices and assures them of its continuing and active support in their fight for freedom. It hopes these protests will continue.

“The U.S.S.R. unreservedly endorses the amended resolution of condemnation of the United States, introduced in the United Nations by the Ambassador of Panama, and pledges its full support to that resolution in the General Assembly.”

There was silence as the chairman of DEFY finished reading.

“You see,” the President said gently, “why it might be better if your organization refrained from anything too—obvious, for a few days.”

LeGage Shelby looked startled, then angry.

“Are you telling me, Mr. President,” he asked sharply, “that DEFY is taking orders from Moscow?” The President gave him an impassive look.

“Again, you would know more about that than I would. I am assuming not. I am assuming your good faith. I am also assuming what must be obvious to any intelligent man, that if you now have a big demonstration at the UN, it is going to appear to the world that you are doing so in response to this appeal from Moscow, which in any sane century would amount to a call to armed rebellion but in our times must be regarded as just one more annoying attempt to stir up trouble. But the fact remains, if you do it, the clear connection will be drawn throughout the world. It will be regarded in exactly the same light as the riots that are going on right now in a dozen capitals in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. The consequences to your own country—I might say the consequences to your own organization—could be quite disastrous under the circumstances. Are you sure you want to risk them?”

LeGage gave him a long and thoughtful look.

“Is that an order, Mr. President?”

“I don’t like to put it on that basis. Let’s just say it’s a cautionary piece of advice to a man I know is intelligent enough to see its value.”

“You’re asking me to disappoint my people,” LeGage said with a faraway expression in his eyes.

“Your people stand or fall with the United States, you know, LeGage,” Orrin Knox said. “We can’t be separated. You’re Americans, too. We’re all bound together, for better or worse.”

The chairman of DEFY gave him a strange, anguished look.

“I wish we weren’t,” he whispered. The Secretary of State stared back. Finally he nodded.

“I know. We all might be happier if history hadn’t worked out as it has.

“But,
it has.
And therefore it is up to us, as Americans co-operating together, to do the best we can with the situation as we find it in each generation and as it comes our time to deal with it. Examine your plans and see if they contribute to that end, LeGage. If they do,” he said gravely, “go ahead.” “To that,” the President observed, “I would say, Amen.” For a while they were silent, in the comfortable study where so many things had happened, so many men been tested, so many great decisions made. The Secretary of State, though he stared straight out the window at the Washington Monument, was aware of tensions increased, relaxed, increased, relaxed, in the room beside him. He said nothing, the President said nothing. Eventually LeGage gave a half-laugh.

“Well! Here it is almost 2 p.m. and I expect there’s work to be done up there in New York, as you say. Best I catch a plane and get on up and get busy on that delegation. That’s what you appointed me for, isn’t it, Mr. President?”

“Good,” the President said with an air of relieved pleasure, rising to shake hands. “I think that will be very helpful to us, LeGage. I appreciate it.”

“Mr. Secretary,” LeGage said, “when will you be coming up?”

“Probably for the debate Thursday. Thank you for your help, LeGage.”

“Oh, well, as you say,” the chairman of DEFY told him with a sudden, racy grin, “we’re all bound together.”

After he had been shown out and they were alone, the President looked at the Secretary of State. “Did you believe it?”

“As with Terry, not one word.”

“No more did I. Do you want to bring Cullee here this afternoon?”

“I think it might be better to see him alone. Not that you wouldn’t be helpful, but—”

“As you think best. If you want to bring him here later, feel free.”

“Thanks, Mr. President,” Orrin said. “I’ll be guided by how it goes.”

He had no sooner returned to his office at State than his secretary gave him word that Bob Munson had called. He returned it at once, to the Majority Cloakroom of the Senate.

“Robert? What’s going on in the cave of the winds?”

“I’ve managed to prolong your session for you, right enough,” Senator Munson said. “Now we may never choke it off. Ray Smith is in full flight on the San Fernando water viaduct, Tom August for some reason has decided to get involved, Seab is snorting and pawing the ground with blue smoke seeping out around the edges of his galoshes, and everybody’s having fun. But something even more interesting has now come up from Fragrant Freddy, our little pal. He’s just braced me with an idea.”

“Don’t tell me,” Orrin said. “Let me guess.” When he had, accurately, he grunted.

“I hope you discouraged that.” The Majority Leader laughed, rather grimly.

“I did my best, but you know Fred. Ever since we censured him he’s been even more obstreperous than he was before. He figures he has nothing to lose any more.”

“Okay, then, stall him off. If anybody’s going to undertake what Fred proposes, I want Cullee Hamilton to do it. It’s the only thing that makes sense under the circumstances.”

“I don’t think anybody should do it. How many more pounds of flesh is it proposed to exact from us over the M’Bulu, anyway?”

“I’d rather wield the knife myself than let others do it,” Orrin Knox told him. The Majority Leader made an impatient sound.

“That won’t be very popular here. You know how Seab will react, and he won’t be the only one. I may react myself. I think it’s time to put a stop to this nonsense.”

“Of course you’re aware of what’s happening in New York.”

“We’re aware. Seab’s telling us about it at this very moment. Can’t you hear that roaring in the background? It isn’t the wild sea waves calling, old buddy.”

“I think this is best,” the Secretary said firmly. “Stall Fred.”

“Does the President agree with you?”

“Call and ask him. He isn’t entirely convinced, but he’s willing to give it a try.”

“I think you’re mistaken, Orrin. Sadly mistaken.”

“You aren’t fully aware of what we face in the world, I’m afraid.”

“I must say
your
horizons have broadened considerably,” Bob Munson remarked with some sarcasm.

“They have. I’m counting on you, Bob. I want this done, and I want Cullee to do it.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Go to hell. But be sure you do as I ask, first.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it, either. You don’t think I’m happy about our choices in the world these days, do you? I have to make some of them, and it isn’t fun.
This
isn’t fun.”

“I’ll talk to Fred. I can’t promise anything, though.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to Cullee. Oh, and Bob: talk to Seab, too, will you?”

“I already have that planned.”

Before he turned back to the items on his desk, the Secretary put in a call to the comfortable house in Spring Valley.

“I just thought you’d be interested to know,” he said when Beth came on the line, “that there is another brilliant mind running in the same channel as yours. That fighting champion of right and justice, Fred Van Ackerman.”

“Don’t let him do it,” she said with alarm. “That would ruin everything.”

“Bob and I are heading him off at the pass. But it’s ironic, isn’t it, how great political instincts seem to see the same things at the same time?”

“I’m just surprised yours didn’t.”

“Oh, it did. I’d been thinking about it. You just confirmed me in my wisdom.”

She laughed.

“That’s a good story.”

“True. Absolutely true.”

“All right, Mr. Secretary. I suppose you’ll write it in your memoirs and nobody will ever know the difference.”

“You’ll probably write them for me, so you can have it your own way in the end. Don’t give up.”

She laughed again.

“I never have. Good luck with Cullee.”

“Thanks,” he said soberly. “I’ll need it.”

In the pleasantly luxurious house out Sixteenth Street the door from the garage slammed shut behind the master with a forceful thud. He came into the living room and threw down his coat as Maudie entered from the kitchen.

“Always throwing things down,” she said grumpily. “Always have to be throwing things down. Didn’t your mammy ever tell you to hang things up?”

“She told me, but I’m a bad boy, Maudie. I’ve always been a real—bad—boy.”

“So you say,” she said skeptically. “So you say.”

He laughed.

“Why, Maudie, I never said it before in my life. Because it just isn’t true, old Maudie, it just isn’t true.” He made a pretense of leafing through the early edition of the
Evening Star,
then threw it down. “Where is she? Where’s that wife of mine?”

“Spectin’ some day to come home and she not be here? Well, she’s not.”

“Where is she?” he demanded, a sudden twist of fear giving his heart a painful squeeze.

“She called,” Maudie said indifferently. “Rest easy. She just been out eatin’ in high-class style with high-class ladies. That gal hasn’t run away.
This
time … In fact,” she added as a car drove up out front, “there she is now, I expect I’ll go hide.”

“You don’t have to do that, Maudie,” he said with a laugh he tried to make casual, but of course she saw through it.

“We expecting tornadoes in this house,” she observed. “That’s the kind of weather we got nowadays. I’m going to go hide in the cellar.”

“Okay. Then don’t stand behind the door and listen.”

“I don’t listen!” she said with great indignation.

“Not much. I bet you keep notes.”

“Make me quite a book if I did,” she said as she went out. “Make me quite some reading book, I tell you.”

He hurried to the window as the door closed behind her and peeked through the curtains. Sue-Dan had told him nothing about her luncheon date, and it was with considerable surprise and much curiosity that he saw his wife and Patsy Labaiya engaged in farewell talk beside Patsy’s Rolls-Royce. He could tell from their respective stances that the conversation was stilted, uneasy, and based on a mutual dislike. But it concluded calmly enough, as conversations between those in Washington who dislike one another do often conclude, with an exchange of cordial smiles, fervent promises to meet again soon, a quick, warm handshake as quickly and warmly returned. Sue-Dan came toward the house, Patsy got into her car, and it purred grandly off. He leaped away from the window and dropped into his big armchair, grabbing the
Star
and pretending to be absorbed in it. He looked up with an air of casual interest when she came in, and her look of surprise changed to one of knowing amusement.

“Come home to check up, Cullee?” she asked, sinking with an instinctive animal grace into a well-posed picture of relaxed unconcern on the sofa. “Come home to find out if I’d run away and gone to New York?” She raised her arm languidly, looked at her watch, and let the arm drop back along the sofa’s edge. “You’re a little early. Plane doesn’t leave until 4 p.m.”

“You’re not going,” he said, with an air of calm dismissal that unfortunately wasn’t quite calm enough.