Harry Harrison: Stars and Stripes Triumphant

His smile vanished and his face darkened as he leaned forward and spoke in a barely audible voice. “But that is no more. When the British attacked my country, I felt betrayed, wronged. On the surface I still amuse and entertain my English friends, because that role suits me best. But deep inside me, you must understand, is the feeling that I loathe them — and would do anything to bring about their destruction. When they attacked your country — and you defeated them — my heart sang with happiness. May I now call you my friends — because we are joined in a common cause? And please believe me when I say that I will do anything to advance that cause.”

Deep in thought, Gus rose and put his empty cup on the table, turned, and smiled warmly.

“That is a very generous offer, sir. Do you think you might consider a little ocean cruise?”

The Count’s smile mirrored his. “I might very well indeed. I was thinking of tootling up the Thames to Greenwich. I have some classmates still stationed there. Might I invite you to join me? Aurora is getting a refit in Hamburg just now. I intend to join her in a week’s time. I shall then sail her to Ostend. Please think about this, and when you make a decision, please leave a note for me at the desk sometime today, since I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. A yes or a no will suffice. And I do hope that you will say yes. And in addition, you must excuse me, I do hate to be personal — but I must tell you that there are almost no redheads in Russia.”

He rose and put down his cup, turning once again to Gus. “If I could bother you — to look down the hall. It is important that we not be seen together.”

The hall was empty. With a cheery wave, the Count was gone and Gus locked the door behind him. Sherman poured himself some more coffee and shook his head.

“I’m a simple man of war, Gus, and all this kind of thing is beyond me. Would you kindly tell me what that was all about?”

“It was about military intelligence!” Gus was too excited to sit and paced the room as he spoke. “By revealing himself as an intimate of Schulz, he was letting us know that he has experience and training as — well, not to put it too fine — as a spy. He also believes that Britain and America may go to war again and has offered us assistance in preparing for that eventuality.”

“So that’s what all that strange talk was about. He wants you to join him in snooping around the British Isles?”

“Not me alone. Remember — it was you he contacted. He wants to give you an opportunity to see for yourself what the British defenses are like. If another war is forced upon us, we must be prepared for anything. An intimate knowledge of the coast defenses and major waterways of that country would be of incalculable aid in planning a campaign.”

“I begin to see what you mean. But it sounds pretty desperate. I don’t think that I would relish going to sea in the Count’s ship. We would have to hide belowdecks during the daylight hours and emerge like owls after dark.”

“That we will not! If we go, why, we are going to be Russian officers. Swilling champagne on deck and saying ‘Da! Da!’ Of course, you will have to dye your beard black. The Count was very firm about that. Do you think you can manage that — gospodin?”

Sherman rubbed his jaw in thought.

“So that’s what the bit concerning red hair was about.” He smiled. “ Da,” he said. “I think I can manage almost anything, if it means that I can take a look at the British defenses and wartime preparation.”

With sudden enthusiasm Sherman jumped to his feet and slammed his fist down so hard on the table that the plates and saucers bounced.

“Let’s do it!”

The rain was streaming down the glass lobby doors. Barely visible through them were the horses, hitched to the carriage outside and standing with lowered heads in the downpour. Abraham Lincoln stood to one side of the lobby talking with Ambassador Pierce and General Sherman. Pierce was upset and very apologetic.

“That is all I know, Mr. President. A servant brought me a note from Mr. Fox, saying that he would be slightly delayed and we should not wait, but should go on without him.”

“Well, if truth be known, I’m in no rush to go out in this rain. We’ll give him a few minutes in the hope that the weather might ameliorate. I am sure that we still have plenty of time once we get to the assembly.”

“Here he comes now,” Sherman said, then turned and looked out at the waiting carriage; he turned his uniform coat collar up. “At least, considering the time of year, it will be a warm rain.”

“Gentlemen, my apologies,” Gus said, hurrying to join them. “I was delayed because I was getting a report from an agent. It seems that the British are coming after all. A goodly sized party was seen already entering the palace — and it was headed by Lord Palmerston!”

“Well, there is no end to surprises,” said Lincoln, “as the man said when he first saw the elephant. I believe that we shall meet at last.”

“For good or ill,” Pierce said, mopping his sweating face with his kerchief.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Lincoln said. “Well now — shall we brave the elements and finally get to meet Lord Palmerston?”

The carriage was still accompanied by the Belgian cavalrymen, now looking damp and miserable, the elegant plumes on their helmets drooping and wet. King Leopold had taken it as a personal responsibility that the American President had been assaulted in his country. He was determined that there would be no reoccurrence. There had been unobtrusive guards in the hotel, most disguised as employees, and others now waited along the route that the carriage would take. The King believed that the honor of Belgium was at stake.

It was a short ride to the palace, but when they reached it they had to stop and wait until the occupants came out from the two carriages that had arrived ahead of them. The men who emerged had to brave the rain to enter the building while servants with umbrellas did their best to shield them from the elements. The cavalrymen did not like the delay, and transmitted their unease to their mounts, which stamped and pulled at their reins. They were relieved when the other carriages left and they could take their place at the foot of the steps.

Once inside, the Americans were ushered to the great chamber where the conference would convene. Even on this dark day, light streamed in through the ceiling-high windows. Ornate gas lamps abolished any traces of gloom, illuminating the ornately painted ceiling where centaurs pranced around lightly clad, very large women.

But Abraham Lincoln had no eyes for any of this. Across the floor and opposite their table (with the neatly lettered sign ÉTATS-UNIS upon it) was that of GRANDE BETAGNE. One seated man stood out sharply from the dark-clothed delegation. His foot propped on a stool before him, his hands clasped around the head of his cane, he glowered out at the entire assembly.

“Lord Palmerston, I presume?” Lincoln said quietly.

Gus nodded. “None other. He looks to be in an angry mood.”

“Considering the tenor of his communications with us, I believe he must live in a permanent state of bile.”

The Belgian Foreign Minister, Baron Surlet de Chokier, rose and the murmur of voices died away as he addressed the assembly in French.

“He is just reading out a formal and general greeting to all the delegations assembled here,” Fox said, leaning over to whisper to the President. “And it is his fond hope that prosperity for all countries will be the fruitful conclusion of these highly significant and most important negotiations.”