“You’re wrong!” said Bullitt. “The president is depending on us to handle this. You don’t think he has enough on his plate domestically, George? Americans are standing in fucking soup lines! You don’t think he’s losing sleep over that, George?”
“Yes! But Germany and Japan are not going to just quietly go away because the president is friendly with the Soviets.”
“Friendly my ass!” said Bullitt. “I just told you we’re continuing to say no to any nonaggression pact. Litvinov is actually worried that Japan may be picking up signals that Roosevelt’s relationship with Stalin is strained. In fact, he has asked me not to say anything publically that might suggest such, as that would embolden Japan. As a result, I’ve made him no such promise. I’m saving it as leverage.”
“Smart,” said Bertel Kuniholm, who’d remained rather quiet to this point. “Perhaps dangerous, but… smart.”
“Our government,” said Bullitt, “will never give either a straight loan or an uncontrolled credit to the Soviets, and Litvinov never suggested that he wanted either. But now… oh now… he has the temerity to say he wants either a straight loan to make purchases anywhere, or uncontrolled credit to make purchases in the U.S. I told him a loan was off the table, and that at least ten percent interest would have to be built into any credit agreement. Still, he’s fixated more on a cash loan.”
“Yeah, so they can buy weapons with it,” said Kennan.
“Shit,” said Bullitt, smoking. “This entire problem hinges on the way a memorandum was written up during the initial agreement. The president uses the words loan and credit interchangeably. In this case, however, he used the word loan when he was strictly meaning credit. So the actual word credit was never written down, only the word loan. Litvinov is quick to point that out.”
“Hell,” said Bobby, “Litvinov knew we meant credit.”
“There’s this to consider,” said Bullitt. “The Soviets owe England, France, Germany, and others far more than they owe us. So, in Litvinov’s defense, he feels that they cannot just pay us off or other nations will demand immediate pay as well. He reasons that if, however, we give them a loan that is double the debt they owe us, the other nations will see it as a type of deal they simply can’t afford. He says the interest rate we agree to build in will ultimately leave the U.S. and Soviet Union on agreeable terms.”
“Ah!” said Loy. “So their idea of progress with these other countries is to kick the can down the road and hope that they magically forget what is owed them. Brilliant!”
Bullitt took a drag and frowned. “We’re not worried about these other damn countries right now, Loy. It’s about getting our debt settled. Focus! Can you do that for me, Loy?”
“Yes, but forget about the nations they owe money to for a second here. Besides the obvious concern regarding Germany, I’m growing weary of the aforementioned Japan and the ever-so-enigmatic Italy. I just can’t help but envision men like Emperor Hirohito and Mussolini doing the unthinkable. I’m hoping like hell we can keep the Soviets with us, regardless of what happens.”
Bullitt threw his cigarette on the ground and picked up Pie-Pie. “Well, the good thing is, in terms of Litvinov and me, things are still fluid. He may not admit it, but he knows that the ‘gentleman’s agreement’ was signed between him and Roosevelt last November, in which they agreed to have ongoing talks about payment of debt. He can’t run from it. Changing the subject, men, what’s the latest on the Christmas Eve party? I want it to be mainly comprised of American guests, but let’s invite the French, German, and U.K. ambassadors as well. And try to get Litvinov and maybe some members of the Politburo there. They probably won’t attend, but give it a shot. How’s the planning coming along with Charles? Talk to me, George.”
“It’s full steam ahead, William. Charles has had no hiccups. The event will show Spaso House off like nothing they’ve ever seen before.”
“Good. But it’s the party in the spring that I want to really be our main event. We’ll call it the Spring Festival. We have seven months to plan it, so everyone should be able to come. And at the Spring Festival, I want every damn important Soviet in the country to attend, including Stalin. I want them to have the best time of their lives. When they think of America, I want them to think of bliss. I want them to equate America with a big, fucking, never-ending party.”
“With seven months to plan,” said Bobby, “I’m sure everyone will indeed be there. But I’m looking forward to the Christmas Eve party for now.”
“I wish I were going to be here to see it myself,” said Bullitt. “I’m sure you’ll fill me in, George.”
“Most assuredly. When do you leave for Washington?”
“October 10th,” said Bullitt. “I understand the famous Negro actor, Paul Robeson, is planning to be here in Moscow in December as well. You should invite him.”
“He won’t come,” said Bobby. “Some members of Stalin’s Politburo being here is understandable because it’s viewed by the public as two nations simply gathering on a leadership level. Robeson, on the other hand, is of the people, of the revolution. Our capitalist government is part of the problem in his eyes, and his supporters would find it unacceptable for him to be hobnobbing with us. It’s really quite simple.”
I continued listening to the men ramble on about the Christmas Eve party, all the while thinking about Paul Robeson’s pending visit to Moscow. I figured Lovett might know much more about the details and I couldn’t wait to find them out.
13
Magadan, Russia
November 1937
WE’D SURVIVED THE LA PÉROUSE STRAIT AND THE STONE OF Danger, barely it seemed, as there’d been one day that had sent us zeks tumbling from one side of the hold to the other, many left to pick stiff bodies off of them in the dark. But the tilting, rattling ship slamming into violent waves had little effect on us, for the mental anguish we’d already survived left us half wishing the boat would run aground.
Beginning from the Sea of Japan and ending at the Sea of Okhotsk, our ship had finally entered the Nagaev Bay, where we’d disembarked near the town of Magadan, a place that, according to the old man, had been built for the sole purpose of advancing Stalin’s Dalstroi, his Far North Construction Trust. In fact, when James and I had first boarded the train back in Moscow and met the old man, he’d already known exactly where we were all going. He’d just decided not to tell us until we’d arrived in Vladivostok.
According to the old man, the Dalstroi was developed to have prisoners mine for gold that would line Stalin’s pockets. “He’s a filthy, soulless animal,” he’d said of Stalin while we were lying in our bunks back at the transit camp. “He has created a forced labor system in the far northeast called Sevvostlag that serves the needs of the Dalstroi, and it will leave more than I can imagine dead eventually. And don’t be so sure that you and your son will be mining for gold. You may be forced to continue the construction of the Kolyma Highway, a road that begins in Magadan and stretches to God knows where. Prisoners started building it in 1932.”