"Yeah. I guess so."
"Did they do surgery on you?" she asked out of professional curiosity.
Tom let out an odd chuckle. "Yeah. They waited a while though. They figured I'd die within a few days anyway, and even if I did make it, I'd be a vegetable. I guess I'm lucky it happened so long ago, back in the days before they'd pull your feeding tube to hurry you on your way. Anyway, four days after the accident I woke up and started talking to the nurse. That convinced them I might make it," he said dryly, "so they went in and dug around and pulled out a bunch of broken pieces of skull and a few extra brains I guess I didn't need. They left me with a steel plate that has a habit of setting off metal detectors at airports."
Rhoda smiled awkwardly.
"I do have a friend I should call," Tom said, getting back to her original question. "He probably thinks I'm dead."
"Is that Decker?" Rhoda asked.
Tom gave her a funny look. "How did you know that?"
"You mentioned him several times while you were delirious."
"Oh."
"Anyone else?" she asked.
"Well, I had some friends named Rosen here in Israel but they died in the Disaster." Tom was going down a very short list of the people he counted as his friends. Until the Disaster, Joshua and Liana Rosen had visited him every day at the hospital in Tel Aviv. Their son, Scott, had survived the Disaster, but Tom hardly counted him as a close friend. "I really ought to call NewsWorld" Tom said. "That's where I work. But to tell the truth, I'd rather wait until after we've been to the ophthalmologist before I call them. I'm a photo-journalist, or at least I was. I'm not sure there's much call for blind photographers."
"No. I guess not."
"How about you?"
"Pardon?"
"Your family."
"Oh, well, of course, there's my brother, Joel, who you met yesterday. His wife and son died in the Disaster. I really liked her, and he was a real sweet kid. The three of us used to go to worship services together. That's how I know Rabbi Cohen. Joel's a computer systems analyst for the Israeli government doing something with strategic defense, but he's not allowed to say what. That was before the Russians relieved him of his responsibilities, of course. I feel bad for him; he's lost nearly everything in the past couple of months. My parents and younger sister live in the States."
Tom nodded and after an appropriate pause asked Rhoda if she knew what time it was in Washington.
"About midnight," she answered after doing a quick mental calculation.
"Good, Decker ought to be home. Can I use your phone?"
"Sure," she said. "I should warn you that getting an overseas call out is not an easy task. There's really no logic to it. After the occupation began, I called repeatedly to let my folks know I was all right. I must have dialed a hundred times before I got a call through. When I did, it went straight through and sounded as if they were right next door. Of course, it's not just from the occupation. There was a lot of damage from the war." Rhoda dialed the number Tom gave her, and handed him the phone. "The middle button at the very bottom redials," she said. "If you don't get through, feel free to try as many times as you like."
"It's ringing," Tom said, surprised.
"That won't happen again in a million years," Rhoda said, surprised by Tom's stroke of luck. Tom waited as the phone continued to ring. "What's the matter?" Rhoda asked after a minute.
"No one's answering."
"Well, don't give up too quickly. You may not get another call through for a long time."
New York
Decker was already in his chair at the conference table when British Ambassador Jon Hansen and the other members of his senior staff arrived for a special meeting. The excitement of Decker's new job was still fresh.
"Decker," Hansen said before he even sat down, "I need one of your best speeches for this."
"I'll have the draft ready by one o'clock, sir," Decker responded. "I've done a search in the computer archives for any speeches you've given in the past on the make-up of the Security Council and I ran across one where you talked about reorganizing the Council on a regional basis. Of course we don't want to detract from the main issue, but if you like, I think I can work that in as a minor theme."
"Yes, that will do nicely. That's been a hot topic for years with the countries not on the Council."
"Peter," Hansen said, turning his attention to his chief legal council, "what's your final prognosis for this effort?"
"Well, for the benefit of the others in the meeting, let me just restate that there's no way in hell that this measure will ever pass, if for no other reason than simply on the grounds that it violates the United Nations Charter. There is no provision for removing a permanent member from the Security Council. You might, however, expand on Decker's suggestion and go for a complete reorganization. Another option you might consider would be to attempt something along the lines of what was done in 1971 when the Republic of China was removed from its seat in the U.N. because the General Assembly recognized the People's Republic of China as the true representative of the Chinese people."
"Let's not get carried away, Peter," Hansen said. "Remember, this is entirely for effect. We don't actually want to get the bloody thing passed."
"Jack, what about the poll of support from the other members?" Hansen asked his legislative assistant. "Are we sure that we can at least get this thing to the floor?" Jack Redmond was a native of Louisiana and the only other American besides Decker on Hansen's staff. When Hansen came to the U.N. he had wanted someone who understood American politics and this outspoken Cajun seemed just the man for the job.
"There should be no problem getting it to the floor, but I can't guarantee seconding support," Jack answered.
"That's fine. As long as we can get the proper coverage of my speech, I think we'll be all right."
"Ambassador," Decker interrupted, "from a media point of view, I think that may be a mistake. Unless we can get someone to second the motion, there's a good chance that the press may focus more on the hopelessness of the motion than on its symbolic nature."
"Good thought," Hansen said, after mulling it over for a second. "I think you're probably right. If nothing else, perhaps we can get one of the Arab countries to second the motion. After all, they're not very happy with the Russians right now either. Jack, find me that second," Hansen told his legislative assistant.
"Okay, any other thoughts or objections before we pull this thing together?"
There were none.
"Jackie, do you have anything to add?" Hansen asked his daughter.
"Your meeting with Russian Ambassador Kruszkegin is set for noon tomorrow in the Delegates Dining Room."
"Okay," Hansen said, "then we're set. Tomorrow at three o'clock, in plenty of time for the evening news in America and the morning news in Asia and Europe, I will make the motion that in response to their invasion and occupation of Israel, the United Nations General Assembly should permanently remove Russia from its position on the Security Council.
"All I have to do now is have lunch with Russian Ambassador Kruszkegin and convince him it's nothing personal."
Friday, November 28 – Tel Aviv
"Are there a lot of Russians on the streets?" Tom asked as Rhoda drove him to the ophthalmologist's office.
"Too many," she answered, but then added, "Actually there are not as many as you might expect. They patrol the streets but the main forces are camped in the hills in the wilderness areas. Apparently they're trying to limit the resentment of the people. I think they realize that filling the streets with soldiers would just result in more violence, both by the soldiers against the people and vice versa. Besides, if they had a bunch of tanks rolling through the cities it wouldn't do much for their claims that they're just a peacekeeping force. It's really the best possible arrangement for the Russians, I suppose. They keep their soldiers on a short leash in the unpopulated areas, and maintain a minimum show offeree in the cities."