“What evidence did the Premier present to support that charge?” Eaton asked.
“He had no concrete evidence,” replied T. C. “I could have stayed home and reread your Embassy reports, or the translations from Pravda, and known just as much. Kasatkin argued that the economic aid we were giving Baraza came from our government funds, and not from private enterprise, and that we had threatened to cut it off unless Amboko banned the Communist Party and the cultural exchange with Moscow. He said we were afraid of Communism in Africa, because we knew that was what the blacks wanted and needed. He said, ‘Those poor people know Communism gives them bread, while democracy gives them a vote and a Letter to the Editor.’ He’s a real smart aleck, in a sort of kulak way, and absolutely distrustful of everyone. He said not only was our money leading Amboko by the nose, but that we were also using our renewal of the African Unity Pact as a bribe. It all comes down to this-the Soviets are charging us with using Baraza as a launching pad to wipe native Communism out of Africa, so we can exploit the black population, control Baraza’s gold and iron ore. That’s the picture, my friends. It may look abstract, but it is realism, and we have to cope with it.”
“You are perfectly right, Mr. President,” Eaton was saying, “we have heard most of that before. The question is-what do the Russians specifically want of us? After all, they instigated this Frankfurt conference to iron out differences. What are they suggesting?”
T. C. snorted, and the loudspeaker sent the sound splitting across the Cabinet Room like a handclap. “What are they suggesting? Good God, Arthur, they are demanding. Yes, they are demanding that we do one of two things-you see, they say they are being reasonable, ready for compromise-that we do one of two things, either kill the African Unity Pact-the AUP-kill it in the Senate, withdraw from it-or that we use our influence, show our good intentions in Africa, by getting Baraza to drop legislation against the native Communist Party and the cultural exchange program with Moscow. There it is.”
“Why this sudden strenuous objection to AUP?” Eaton asked. “They showed only token disapproval when we first went into it.”
“Because, according to Kasatkin, when we first went into it, the Soviets regarded it as a weak paper pact, limited to three countries and promising only small economic assistance. But they consider the new AUP as a threat. They point out it involves five African nations, and guarantees our military intervention to protect those countries from aggression. The Soviets argue we’re setting up a Monroe Doctrine in Africa. They won’t sit still for another NATO-a fledgling NATO they’re labeling AUP-unless we allow their own ideology perfect freedom in Baraza. It must be one or the other, but not both.”
Representative Wickland called out toward the microphone box, “Mr. President, what if we support both measures-banning of Communism in Baraza as well as membership in the new AUP? What do you think Kasatkin would do?”
“The works, Harv, the works,” said the President. “Premier Kasatkin warned me Soviet troops would occupy West Berlin, and redouble support of their adherents in and around India and Brazil. I think he means it this time. And if he does, we’re in for a shooting war, and we’d have to fire the first shot.”
“But, Mr. President-” It was Assistant Secretary Jed Stover’s pained and trembling voice. “That’s absolute blackmail. We’re committed to AUP as well as giving Baraza the absolute right to do as it pleases, and apparently Baraza wants to curb Communism. I don’t blame Amboko. He has a new and uncertain democratic coalition. His minority of Communists are militant and dangerous. If we give in on either point, drop out of AUP or force Amboko to leave the Communists alone, the Reds might infiltrate every free nation of Africa, and control the continent in a year.”
The loudspeaker was quiet, and those waiting in the Cabinet Room were quiet, too, and at last T. C.’s reply came through the loudspeaker from distant Frankfurt. “Jed-all of you-I’m sure we understand our Soviet friends very well. We know what they want. We have to prevent them from getting it. The question is where do we stop them, and when do we see the whites of their eyes? In Baraza? I don’t think so. I’d hate to risk American lives over some godforsaken little tract of land in West Africa. I don’t want to have the distinction of having been the last President of the United States, the one who encouraged nuclear annihilation. I’m more worried about Germany, India, Brazil than I am about Africa.”
“Mr. President.” The voice had come from the far side of the coffinlike table, and it belonged to Senator Dilman, whose fingers were drumming the table nervously. “Mr. President,” he repeated, “I’m sure you are-are right-yes-but if we back away from Africa, won’t we-wouldn’t we not only lose Africa for democracy-but show the Russians we are weak? I’m not disagreeing, only I am wondering-”
“Who was that?” inquired T. C. “I don’t recognize the voice.”
“That was Senator Dilman, Mr. President,” said Arthur Eaton.
“Oh, Dilman,” said T. C. “Fine, Dilman. Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about losing Africa to anyone. Those people know we’re with them. They see our money. They see we’re really making an effort to solve the civil rights problem in the United States. As to showing any weakness to the Soviets, I’m not concerned about that either. They’ve counted our ICBMs, you can bet. They know we have muscles. No, I think we stand to gain more by showing a readiness to bargain, to give a little in order to get a little, than by being bullheaded. The question is how to proceed, how to concede with strength, how to conciliate the Russians, while reassuring the Africans we are behind them, and showing our electorate back home that we have emerged from Frankfurt with a victory, that we have preserved the peace of the world?”
Arthur Eaton edged forward in his chair. “Mr. President, what is your impression of Premier Kasatkin this time around? Do you feel that he is sincere? Do you feel that he will keep hands off in Berlin, Brazil, India, if you make a concession about Africa?”
“Oh, definitely, Arthur. No doubt about it. He’s a roughneck, and crafty, peasant crafty, but he is blunt and honest. I think he wants to live and let live, if there is no other choice. Anyway, MacPherson and I have been kicking this around, and we have come up with a possible approach. We want your opinion on the strategy. Listen carefully-”
Listening carefully, Edna Foster, seated five chairs from the loudspeaker box, crossed her legs again, ready to hook her penciled ciphers across her shorthand pad, if required to do so. Beside her, Leach stopped tapping away on the stenotype set between his legs. Since all sound in the room had ceased, Edna glanced up. The intent faces of the President’s advisers seemed to form human parentheses around the loudspeaker, as each individual prepared to concentrate on what would come next from the Chief Executive in Frankfurt.