A Shade of Difference (76 page)

‘“The governor added that racial progress in this country “has brought the American Negro greater benefits, greater genuine freedom, and greater security than that achieved by Negroes anywhere else in the world.” He paid particular tribute to Rep, Hamilton for his fight to assist Negro progress.

“‘There was immediate speculation in Washington that the Governor’s statement might have been prompted by fear that a too-close association with the anti-American views of his brother-in-law, Ambassador Labaiya, could hurt the governor’s chances for the presidential nomination next year. His statement was regarded as a skillful attempt to disassociate himself from Sr. Labaiya while at the same time retaining the goodwill and support of America’s Negro community.’”

The President chuckled.

“That last paragraph nails Ted to the mast, all right. I hope Cullee and the Negro community are suitably impressed.”

“I don’t know about the community,” Orrin said, “but Cullee isn’t. He attacked Ted in the UN debate, you know. I think those two are coming to a parting of the ways.”

“One wants to be President and the other wants to be Senator,” the President remarked. “When two ambitions are that strong and generally complementary, it takes more than a few candid remarks to make the parties hop out of bed. We shall see what we shall see as we draw nearer convention time … What is the situation at the UN, assuming Felix ignores this, as I expect he will?”

“I expect he will, too,” the Secretary said. “He’s a strange boy, Felix. His ultimate ambitions include various things, such as becoming President of Panama and trying to boot us out of the Canal, I’m pretty sure. In the meantime, he will do what damage he can. Hal tells me things are holding pretty well, even though Felix did give him the cold shoulder when he tried out your idea of a loan and more representation on the Canal Company.”

“I didn’t expect anything from it, but it seemed worth the try. How is Hal?”

“Feeling better, apparently. So he tells me, anyway, and I checked later with Lafe, who said the same thing. I hope so. I hate to have him sick, and I would also hate to make a change in the delegation just as we come to a showdown on the Labaiya Amendment.”

The President nodded.

“One change is enough for the moment. I only hope things are concluded in Congress on Cullee’s resolution so that he can be back up there when the debate resumes on Friday. Why don’t you have Bob sound out Seab about his plans? Maybe the three of you can work something out.”

“I’m ahead of you. Bob and I are having lunch with him at one.”

“And you have to let him down gently and still not let Cullee down at all. Good luck, my friend. That’s a problem in diplomacy worthy of a Secretary of State.”

“I’ll do my best,” Orrin said, rising. “Now I’ll run along and leave you to the world’s problems. I assume you’ve read over the message on Berlin and the report of the Eleven-Nation Nuclear Powers Commission—”

“Twelve as of yesterday. Don’t forget South Africa.”

“Right—and will let me know.”

The President smiled.

“I shall. And what I recommend on the situation in Iran, and whether we should make any formal protest to India about the Prime Minister’s statement, and whether it’s worth trying to work things out with Indonesia, and if we should take further action on this new thing in Cuba. Also what to do about Guiana’s latest, and whether or not to reply to the Soviet Union’s newest charges. To say nothing of the things I have to decide today on the new expedition to the moon, extension of the draft, the construction of fifteen new Polaris submarines, whether to have the Secretary of Labor talk to Clete O’Donnell about his union’s strike-threat at Cape Canaveral, the establishment of a new Titan launching base in Alaska, and the size of the standing army. Plus some odds and ends on unemployment, the medical bill, the possibility of an auto strike in Detroit, the possibility of a breakdown in steel negotiations, the problem of finding two new directors to fill vacancies on the Federal Power Commission, a proposal to extend Federal assistance to the program to clean up pollution in the Potomac River, and whether to authorize the Civil Service Commission to give government employees an extra day on Thanksgiving weekend.” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “And anything else that happens to come along as I sit here, defenseless and vulnerable, perfect target for all the bucks and all the problems that ultimately get passed along to this office, whose occupant has to know everything about everything because that’s what his countrymen put him here for.”

“You make it sound quite terrifying,” the Secretary said, “but, in spite of looking tired, you seem to be thriving on it. So I shall remain ambitious, optimistic, undaunted, and unafraid.”

‘If poor old Harley can do it, I guess poor old Orrin can, is that it?” the President asked with a smile. “Well, who knows? Time will tell.”

“Time and you. I expect to get a clear-cut answer from time long before I get one from you.”

“It does you good to be uncertain about what I’ll do,” the President told him cheerfully. “It keeps you on your toes. Good luck with Seab.”

“You’re as cold-blooded as your predecessor,” Orrin said with a grin, but not entirely in jest. The President looked amused.

“My secret weapon is that nobody but you suspects it. Check with me after lunch; I’ll do what I can from here.”

Now the time was approaching for him to face up to whatever it was that had, quite literally, been gnawing at his vitals, but even as he tried to prepare himself mentally to go into Harkness Pavilion later in the day, the senior Senator from West Virginia found himself interrupted by the crowding problems of the UN and the incessant carpings of his colleagues. That this was a good thing for his morale, in that it kept him occupied, he recognized; but as he sat in Special Political Committee and listened to the delegate of Guiana raise again the tired bugaboo of American economic imperialism, a sudden savage anger assailed him. He raised his hand, though the strange kneading pain was again working its way through his abdomen to his chest and breathing was painful.

“Is the distinguished delegate of Guiana aware,” he asked, “that his country’s policies have been so erratic of late that no new investments by United States companies have been attempted in the past three years? If this is American economic imperialism, Mr. Chairman, I would say the government of Guiana has found the perfect answer to it by being so unreliable that American capital doesn’t dare venture in.”

There was a murmur of amusement across the half-moon of seats in the brightly lighted room. The delegate of Guiana drew himself up to his full five-feet-one and glared at him.

“This is typical of United States flippancy, Mr. Chairman. It is impossible to discuss matters intelligently with the distinguished delegate from the United States when he is in that mood.”

“Those who don’t like the mood had better give some thought to not putting us in it,” Hal Fry snapped. “Intelligent discussion begets intelligent discussion. Foolishness begets flippancy.”

“Mr. Chairman,” the delegate of Guiana said stiffly, “I shall proceed with my prepared statement. Not only is the United States guilty of gross economic imperialism, but even greater is her crime of—”

Hal Fry was aware of someone slipping quietly into the seat behind him. A narrow brown hand reached forward and closed gently on his right arm.

“You are very severe this morning, dear Hal,” Krishna Khaleel murmured, leaning forward so that their whispered conversation would not disturb the rest. “What have we done to arouse this violent reaction from one who is normally so good-natured and equable?”

“I’m just tired of hypocrisy, K.K. Tired, tired, tired of it. People blandly ignoring the facts, people blandly saying things they know are not true. There comes a point beyond which decent men cannot stomach it. I’m sorry if that offends you. Your capacity is obviously greater than mine.”

“Well, Hal,” the Indian Ambassador said, “I can see you are in no mood for rational talk. Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes, I’m feeling all right!” Senator Fry whispered angrily, though a sudden excruciating pain suddenly shot clear up from his bowels to the top of his head and his eyes blurred the room for a second. With a great effort he made himself smile and speak more calmly. “What do you hear on the Labaiya Amendment? Has the House vote helped any?”

Krishna Khaleel shrugged elaborately.

“Who knows? Some say yes, some say no. It is all quite mysterious.”

“And what do you say? That’s what I want to know, accurate and objective observer that you are.”

“I try to be, Hal,” Krishna Khaleel said with dignity. “It is not always so easy when passions are inflamed as they are these days in world affairs, but I try to be.”

“We all admire you for it. And so what about the House action?”

“It has been helpful,” the Indian Ambassador said thoughtfully. “Yes, I would say it has. Whether helpful enough to change basic sentiments here, I do not, of course, know; nor can I say what the effect will be if the Senate follows suit.”

“But there would be no doubt of the reaction if the Senate didn’t.”

“Oh, none whatsoever. None whatsoever. As it stands at the moment, of course, you are being given credit for a worthy, if somewhat belated and reluctant, attempt to behave like a decent and responsible power toward the colored people, your own and those of the world. We give you credit for trying. At the moment, that is. But …” He paused, and his eyes narrowed as they traveled over the crowded room with its kaleidoscope of faces and pigments. “We do not know, of course, what else will happen. It is still touch-and-go, if you like. Many of us wish you well. But we shall wait to see what it all means when you have finished.”

“It’s nice not to be patronized, K.K.,” Senator Fry said with a cordial irony that apparently escaped the Indian Ambassador, for he replied only with a vaguely friendly smile. “You don’t know how much we appreciate it. I should think we would have picked up several votes. I hear we have. And it would take two-thirds here to pass Felix’s amendment, anyway. And there wasn’t anything like that on his side on the vote against delaying debate. So I think we’re in good shape.”

“One never knows, does one? One never knows, in this world. I do hope your health is all right, my dear Hal. One hears such upsetting rumors in the Delegates’ Lounge.”

“That’s about all one hears in the Delegates’ Lounge,” Senator Fry said tartly.

“But you are all right?” K.K. persisted, and Hal realized his expression must be more revealing than he knew.

“Fine, thank you, K.K. How about going out for a cup of coffee or something? Guiana’s the last speaker and I don’t think I’ll bother to intervene again.”

“I would love to, but unfortunately I have arranged to meet the M’Bulu for a brief talk in ten minutes.” He hesitated. “If you would care to join us—?”

“No, thank you. Nice of you to be polite, but I wouldn’t dream of it. Give him my love and bad wishes.”

“Really, Hal,” the Indian Ambassador said with some severity. “You
are
flippant, just as Guiana says you are.”

“Purely defensive,” Hal said, more truthfully than he would have liked to admit in view of the savage ringing dizziness that engulfed him. “See you later.”

“Good luck at the hospital,” K.K. said, and suddenly, solemnly, offered his hand.

“Who said I was going to the hospital?” Hal Fry asked sharply, even as he automatically returned the handshake.

“I wish you well, indeed, dear Hal,” K.K. replied, his head averted as though he were genuinely affected, and Senator Fry thought he probably was. “Let me know if I can be helpful.”

“Yes,” Hal said still automatically. “I will.”

Therefore his situation must be known to them all, he thought as he rose carefully and walked with what appeared to be a thoughtful slowness toward the door, careful not to give any appearance of haste that would prompt any wild-eyed assumptions that he was walking out on Guiana. He only hoped the word had not spread too far, otherwise it would quickly get back to Washington and there would be all sorts of bothersome complications at once. I don’t want to make a federal case out of it, he told himself as he took the elevator to street level and started across the lobby past Zeus and Sputnik. I really don’t.

At the door he paused, his eyes as always drawn upward to the silvered ball of the Netherlands swinging slowly on its steel wire, moving on its endless path, recording the swift, inexorable spinning of the globe.

“It is a privilege to live this day and tomorrow”; the inscription on the pedestal beneath the ball echoed in his mind.

God grant it me, he thought as he walked out upon the esplanade in the thin autumn sunshine and started across First Avenue toward U.S. headquarters and the hospital that waited beyond, after he had put his office in order for the day. God grant it me.

“But, DARLING,” his wife was saying over the telephone from Dumbarton Avenue in Washington, “you really can’t BLAME Ted, now, can you? After all, he DID warn you. And so did I. It seems to me you really have no grounds for complaint at all. Really none at all.”

“I suppose,” said Felix coldly, “that this is all part of some arrangement he has worked out with the President to get his backing for the nomination next year.” Patsy made an impatient sound at the other end of the wire.

“Now, that is absurd. SIMPLY absurd. Ted hasn’t been in touch with the President at all since he left here last week. So how could he have worked out any arrangement with that stuffy old man?”

“Possibly not,” Felix said, “but I will wager you have.” His wife hesitated for the slightest of seconds and then said thoughtfully, “It wasn’t quite that way. I would say HE worked it out with ME. I don’t know whether I told you we all had brunch at Dolly’s on Sunday—”

“No. I’m sorry I wasn’t down there to join you.”

“Well, you have things to do there,” Patsy said in a disinterested voice. “Anyway, he and Lucille were there—my GOODness, that woman is a frump—and Seab Cooley and I got into a little spat and the President had to jump in with both feet in his mouth as usual. But he did say he thought it was puzzling that Ted hadn’t said something, and he did indicate that it might be well for him to do so.”

“So you naturally accepted this as a command,” Felix said with distaste, “and Ted naturally thought it was a warning. So he issued his statement.”

‘“Why, of course. What else could he do, if he wants the President’s support? Anyway, darling, I must say I’m not entirely in disagreement with him, you know.”

“Oh, I know. Were you ever?”

“Oh, yes,” she said cheerfully. “You know, I never told you, but he was most skeptical when I married you.”

“Oh, was he. I could have expressed similar thoughts about him.”

“How fortunate that everyone thought it best to be polite … Or was it?”

“Possibly not. Perhaps we should never have married at all.”

“Who can ever tell what is best?” his wife asked in a vague tone.

“Exactly. Who?”

“Well, anyway, darling,” Patsy said with a sudden briskness. “Here we are, aren’t we? So what happens now? Are you going to abandon your amendment in the UN? Are we going to get a divorce? What IS going to happen?”

“Nothing is going to happen except what is happening. We are proceeding under instructions from the General Assembly for a week’s delay. Some of it is already gone. When the entirety is, we shall vote.”

“You don’t think the House action on Cullee’s resolution has hurt you any?”

“What sort of action was it?” Felix asked scornfully. “A five-vote margin with almost the full House voting. What good does that do with opinion here in the UN? The full pressure of the Administration, and it only escaped defeat by five votes! That does not seem like a very strong sentiment in the Congress. And what effect will that have on the Senate? How will the precious resolution fare there? No, I would not say anything has hurt me, as you put it.”

“Not even Ted,” his wife remarked. He made a scornful sound.

“Not even Ted.”

“Well, darling, I won’t keep you any longer. I’m glad you called to ask about Ted. I’m glad
that
hasn’t hurt. I’m glad all is going so well.”

“Will you file for divorce, or shall I?” he asked bluntly, and was pleased to hear her startled gasp. But her response was calm and unperturbed.

“Let’s don’t rush things. It isn’t anything that has to be decided right now.”

“Very well, but tell Ted one thing for me. He has made his record, and we all perceive it. Now I would appreciate it if he would mind his own business and leave me to mine.”

“But all of these businesses growing out of Terry’s visit are so mixed up together,” she said, “that how can any of us stay out of any of them?”

“‘And therefore,’” the M’Bulu concluded his quoting as he lay sprawled naked on his stomach on the disheveled bed, “‘it must be conceded that, however difficult the problems he has posed for the United States, the actions of the intelligent and idealistic young leader of Gorotoland while in this country have served as a worthy catalyst in the discussion of problems with which all Americans should be concerned.

“‘It may be that some may wish he had remained at home. But none can deny that, while here, his effect has been felt.’

“And
that,”
he said in a tone of great satisfaction, “is what the
New York
Times
thinks of
me.”

“Very powerful stuff,” Sue-Dan observed dryly through the half-opened door of the bathroom. She surveyed herself full-length in the mirror on the door, gave her dress a tug, her hair a pat, and emerged to turn slowly about for his inspection. “How do I look, Terry? Better than those pretty gals in Molobangwe with goat butter in their hair?”

“Much better,” the M’Bulu said, still in a tone of great satisfaction. He gave his sudden merry laugh. “At least in this country I know the butter is fresh.”

“You’re pretty fresh yourself,” she observed, giving him an unimpressed surveillance that must have rankled, for under it he stirred uneasily and presently sat up.

“I don’t wonder old Cullee got annoyed with you, if you looked at him like that. You didn’t look like that half an hour ago.”

“Half an hour ago is a long time, sometimes,” she told him crisply. “How soon you got to be over there?”

“I told the New York press I’d meet them for coffee at ten. Want to go with me?”

“That would be a sensation, all right, but no, thanks. I think I’ll have lunch with LeGage and then go shopping for a while.”

“Better come with me,” he said in a taunting tone. “Surely you don’t care if Cullee knows.”

“Cullee knows,” she said flatly, taking one last turn before the mirror.

“Does he care?” She shrugged.

“Who knows what Cullee thinks? He cares, but it won’t change him.” A shrewdly thoughtful and grudgingly complimentary expression crossed her sharp-featured little face. “He’s got principles, that boy.”

“Too bad you don’t like him,” Terrible Terry observed lightly. Her expression changed for a split second to one he could not interpret—angry, regretful, protesting, wistful, scornful, even, perhaps, hurt.

“Too bad you don’t keep your opinions to yourself,” she said shortly. “Isn’t it time for you to get up and put on your pretty doodads for the white folks? They like you pretty.”

“I
am
pretty,” he said with a cheerful grin, rising slowly to stretch like some lithe and beautiful panther and then begin to put on undershirt and shorts, pants and socks and shirt, sober maroon tie and gray business suit. This completed, he went to the closet and took from their hook his gorgeous green and gold robes, inserted his arms in the sleeves, and, with a practiced gesture, swung the trailing sash swiftly across his chest and over his left shoulder, clapped on his little pillbox hat, and stood in full array before her.

“How is that?” he demanded. She gave a mocking imitation of being overwhelmed.

“My goodness to gracious Aunt Beulah, if you aren’t the prettiest thing that ever hit New York. Guess a mere woman can’t compete with you, Terry. Just as well I’m not going along, I expect; nobody’d look at
me …
What are you going to tell them?”

“Anything they want to hear,” he said cheerfully. “Since they want to hear things critical of their own country, that’s what I’ll tell them. It isn’t difficult, don’t you know, … What are you and LeGage going to talk about?”

“We thought we’d talk about Cullee. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind. It seems a little late, however.”

“He can still drop his resolution,” she said. “That wouldn’t stop the Senate from acting, but it would make it easier for it to be beaten. Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, “you and ’Gage should go down to Washington and see him.”

“We can tell him what you’ll do for him,” Terry said with an impudent smile. “Maybe that will work.”

“He knows. It hasn’t seemed to lately. Anyway, who said that was any of your business, pretty?”

He threw back his head and laughed his merry laugh.

“I thought after last night that I was a member of the club. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged.

“Isn’t any club. I just wanted to find out what those goat-grease gals in Molobangwe and all those little floozies at the UN see in you. You’re not so much.”

An expression of genuine anger shot across his face as he towered above her in his glittering apparel.

“Damned American,” he said with a cold bitterness.

“Damned foreigner,” she said indifferently. “’Spect you better run along, Terry. All your little press pals are waiting. Anyway,” she added, opening the door, “I know LeGage is. So I’ll see you later. Maybe.”

“Have fun with Cullee,” he said spitefully, following her out and closing the door with an angry slam.

“I always do,” she said. The elevator came and they rode in silence to the lobby. She held out her hand in mock formality.

“Thank you for everything, Your Royal Highness.” He gave his sunny smile, amicability abruptly restored.

“You, too. I don’t envy old Cullee.” He was pleased to see that this shot went home, for a look of resentment, oddly mixed with something that might possibly have been pain, came into her eyes.