James BeauSeigneur - In His Image James

Decker and Christopher walked across the North Courtyard to the entrance to the U.N. General Assembly building. After going through the security check, they went to the information and security desk to get visitor's badges to go to the Delegates Dining Room. Both enjoyed the lunch buffet immensely. There was more variety than either had seen before at one meal and they liked almost everything they tried.

After their meal, as they were in the lobby returning their badges, someone called to Decker. They turned toward the voice and, through a group of colorfully clothed people, saw a tall blonde man who smiled at them and gave a nod of recognition. It was Jon Hansen.

Decker smiled back and made his way across the lobby toward him.

"Mr. Ambassador," Decker said as he approached and extended his hand. "It's good to see you again. But I really didn't expect you to come to greet me."

"No problem," Hansen answered with a friendly smile. "But to be honest, I had some business in the building. How have you been? You look much improved over our first meeting."

'Yeah, well, that's not necessarily saying very much," Decker joked. "But I have been eating a lot better. Christopher here is a pretty good cook."

Hansen looked curiously at Christopher, who was listening intently to their conversation.

"Ambassador Hansen, this is Christopher Goodman," Decker responded in answer to Hansen's glance. "He's been staying with me since the Disaster. His granduncle was Professor Harry Goodman of U.C.L.A., who, before his death, was scheduled to be awarded the Nobel prize in medicine."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you Christopher," Hansen said as he shook Christopher's hand. "I've read about your uncle's work in cancer research. He was a brilliant scientist. The world will miss him. Maybe someday you'll continue his work, Christopher."

"Professor Goodman and I were friends from my college days," Decker continued. "I lost… " Decker bit his lower lip to get a grip on his emotions. For a brief moment he thought that he would be able to just say it, but as the words approached his lips, they began to quiver and his cheeks began to ache. Releasing his bite, Decker tried again. "I lost my wife and two daughters," Decker paused briefly and took a breath, "so when Christopher showed up on my doorstep, I invited him to stay. The professor and Mrs. Goodman were his only family."

"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."