"In the middle of debate over the Macedonia question?"
"Tut-tut. Macedonia will not convulse overnight."
"We would like to know what happened."
The secretary general searched the ceiling for a plausible explanation. "You will remember the events that triggered the First World War?" he purred.
"Not personally, of course."
"Europe was then a network of treaties and alliances with no broker or mediator. Unlike today. When the unfortunate assassination at Sarajevo took place, a domino effect resulted. Countries bound by paper treaties found themselves at war with other countries with whom they had no quarrel. It was to avoid such recurrences that the United Nations was created."
"You're thinking of the League of Nations," the U.S. delegate said acidly. "And let's skip the commercial for a new world order and go directly to the point."
"Very well," the secretary general said stiffly. "A disagreement broke out between two delegates. I have already forgotten whom, this is such a trivial matter. A blow was struck, a delegate fell. A third delegate, whose nation was on excellent terms with the one that was struck, interceded and knocked down the aggressor. Very quickly there were escalations and counterattacks. It was just like the prelude to the First World War, only without bloodshed."
"Not quite. The Cuban observer bopped me on the nose."
"Most regrettable. I trust the bleeding has abated?"
"Mine has. I don't think that's true of the Cuban observer. Now, let's become serious, shall we? I was there. I saw it all. Everything you say is probably true. But who was the old fellow at the podium and what on earth did he say that riled up the entire assembly?"
"That, I admit I do not know."
"That," the U.S. delegate continued, "was the answer I was looking for at the start of this conversation. If you do find out, be so good as to share it with me, will you? My President is interested in the answer."
"Very good, Madame Delegate," said Anwar Anwar-Sadat, and hung up.
It was not surprising that the U.S. was in the dark, he reflected. They were always in the dark about truly sophisticated issues. Anwar Anwar-Sadat took secret pleasure in U.S. ignorance, because it was easier to mold U.S. political opinion this way.
But this was one time he took no pleasure in United States ignorance. Before she called him, Anwar Anwar-Sadat was considering swallowing his pride and reaching out to her in the hope—faint as it was—that the United States government had some inkling of what had transpired.
"I would like to see a complete text of the remarks made before the General Assembly," he informed the under secretary.
The under secretary was pained to admit that no such transcript existed.
"Why not?"
"Mr. Secretary General, inasmuch as the remarks were not cleared with the Secretariat and not delivered in a language the translators were prepared for, there is no transcript."
"What do we know of what was said?"
"The entire first minute was lost, owing to the translators' unpreparedness."
"Yes. Yes. I understand this."
"It was then noticed that the delegates from the two Koreas were agitated by these remarks and the translators who understood Korean captured the second minute."
"Only the second?"
"All the uproar and violence forced them to abandon their posts."
The secretary general nodded unhappily. "So what do we have?"
"It is imperfect."
"I know it is imperfect," he snapped. "You have already explained the circumstances of the translation."
"No, I mean the portion we have reconstructed is imperfect because the Korean spoken was not modern Korean, but an older dialect."
"Which dialect?"
"Northern."
"This provocateur was North Korean? Can we assume that?"
"We can," the under secretary admitted. "But we might be wrong."
The secretary general sighed. Once they got into the habit of couching their words as diplomatically as possible, leaving room for all shades of meaning—including no meaning at all—it was exceedingly difficult to break the staff of the habit. Usually this was good. In this particular instance, it was exasperating.
"I would like to hear these remarks, imperfect as they are," the secretary general said wearily.
"Actually what we have is not in the form of remarks as much as a string of numerals."
"Numerals? What do you mean numerals?"
"Digits."
"Numbers?"
"Yes, numbers. The person was reciting numbers."
"Why would a man reciting numbers throw the entire General Assembly in chaos?"
"Perhaps they were very important numbers, Mr. Secretary General."
"How? Numbers are numbers. They are only important if given in a context that imparts their importance to the hearer."
"This is the difficulty with our imperfect translation," the under secretary sighed. "We are missing the first and third minutes of this man's remarks. Therein must lie the context."
The secretary general leaned back in his chair. Behind him, in Arabic so it would not offend the English-speaking world should U.S. television cameras intrude, was his favorite saying inscribed in silver ink against a black background: If You Stick To Your Principles You Are Not A Diplomat.
It was Anwar Anwar-Sadat's favorite saying because he himself had authored it. When it was reported in Time magazine, he received much hurtful mail from those who didn't understand the demands and realities of his job.
But now even he himself didn't understand his job.
Was there a crisis? Had the United Nations, after fifty years of bringing nations under one roof to air their differences, dissolved into irrelevancy because a nameless man had recited a mathematical formula to the General Assembly?
It was unthinkable. Yet there it was—an ugly, undeniable truth.
"Bring me these numbers so that I may see them with my own eyes," Anwar Anwar-Sadat ordered his under secretary for peacekeeping Operations.
"At once, my General."
Harold Smith saw the outbreak of fractiousness on his home television during the 11:00 p.m. news and immediately sat up straighter in the overstuffed chair that dominated his Rye, New York, parlor. He wore a faded flannel bathrobe and carpet slippers, both gray from many washings.
The clip was brief, a feed from one of the networks, and was aired just before the weather for comic relief.
Wise in the ways of the United Nations body, Harold Smith knew that there was nothing comic about the General Assembly reverting to hand-to-hand combat. Diplomats were highly trained individuals, schooled to show reserve when reserve was called for, anger when it served their governments, and it was rare when an outburst occurred that was uncalculated and spontaneous.
The outbreak of violence in the UN was clearly spontaneous. In fact, it was wildly spontaneous.
It may have been the most important news event of the past six months, but less than fifteen seconds of airtime was given to it and absolutely none was devoted to helping the public understand that event.
Not that Harold Smith gleaned any understanding. But he knew enough to feel a cold tightness creep into his chest as he reached for his battered briefcase.
Unlocking the safety catches so the explosive charge remained inert, Smith exposed his portable computer and booted it up.
He was soon logged on the net and was calling up the wire-service news bulletins.
AP had a brief digest and included the secretary general's remarks. They were as devoid of substance as the TV report had been.
Other accounts were similarly sketchy. None identified the trigger for the commotion. Skimpy statements of an unidentified Third World delegate addressing the General Assembly at the time of the violence suggested a link between his remarks and what followed. But no one was saying that on the record. In fact, no one was saying much of anything.