Free American Romantic by Ward Just Page A

he has to say? Depending on the risk. He hasn’t wanted to talk before. We’ve opened channels in every damned way you can imagine and it’s never worked out. We’ve been up on tippy-toe waiting to be kissed and what we’ve gotten is a fish in the face. That’s a Louisiana expression, Harry. It means shit. One disappointment after another. And here this comes from out of the blue.
    An offer to talk, Harry said.
    The word was passed up the line, one courier to the next.
    Until it reached you.
    It reached me, yes.
    And you believe the offer is genuine.
    I have a friend, the ambassador said. She is a very old friend. I met her in Paris years ago when I was head of the political section at the embassy. Adele and my late wife were very close, a pair of mischief makers. I cannot say that I approved of their friendship. Adele was a rogue, headstrong, an adventurer, very smart. But there wasn’t much I could do about it, as I was putting in twelve-hour days trying to assess the various governments coming to power and losing it, only to surface months later. It was exhausting. In those years it seemed there was a new government every month or so. Adele is French but has lived all over the world. She lives here now. She grew up in this country—her father was a colonial administrator in the old days—and loves it, strange as that may sound. I think she likes the heat, and I know she likes the turbulence. She is attracted, if I may say so, to instability. She is well connected with many elements of this society, including the worst elements. Adele is a woman of the Left, well educated, sometimes indiscreet. We see each other from time to time and our relations have improved to the point where she smiles when she calls me a tool of the imperialists. That’s another way of saying we understand each other. And when I put the facts of this matter to her, she asked me to wait a few days and she would get back to me after she completed what she called her “soundings.” The ambassador paused there, frowning at the word he put in quotes. There was pain in his eyes, too, and Harry had the idea he was thinking of his late wife and her friendship with the adventurer Adele. He said, It took her a week. Last night she came by the residence to tell me that, in her view, this démarche is genuine. She will not swear to it. She did not guarantee it. She believes there is some dissension among the enemy leadership and that confuses the issue somewhat. But she did insist that serious people were involved and that, all in all, it’s worth a tumble from us. If we were serious also about talks. Are you with me so far, Harry?
    Harry said, So far.
    Because I think you’re the man for this job.
    I’ll help in any way, Harry said, fully concentrated now.
    You’re the right rank, not too high, not too low. In a word, you’re deniable in case this somehow leaks.
Which it will not do.
And you have as much experience in-country as almost anyone in the embassy. You don’t have the language, that’s true, but neither does anyone else. And you’ve nothing to do with the security services. That’s an advantage in these circumstances. Our friends on the third floor could use more cloak and less dagger. They are definitely not trusted by the other side. But most important, you have my complete confidence.
    How much does Washington know?
    What I have chosen to tell them, the ambassador said.
    I see, Harry said.
    The Secretary and I are very old friends.
    I didn’t know that.
    Sometimes we talk in code.
    Yes, sir.
    If this goes wrong, I’m responsible. You too, but less so. The ambassador paused and added, This is what I call a moment of consequence.
    Yes, sir, it certainly is.
    You must have questions, Harry. What are they?
    What’s my brief?
    Listen. Listen damn hard. Listen to every nuance. Take notes, if they agree to note-taking, which I doubt. Don’t make an issue of