Free The Lie by Michael Weaver Page B

chancellor was speaking as a German,” said Dunster. “How could he not? Just thinking about what the Germans
     have done in this century is enough to turn you green. But the sad truth is that much of the same horror is going on even
     now in at least four African countries, no one is doing anything about it, and there’s plenty of guilt to go around.”
    The president shrugged, suddenly impatient with himself. “Anyway, the point of all this is that I’ve decided I want to be
     at Wannsee myself.”
    “Whom have you told about this?”
    “Only you.”
    “Just one point,” said Cortlandt. “Since Wannsee’s been set up at the State Department and foreign minister level, do you
     really want to turn it into a summit conference?”
    “Not at all. That would destroy my purpose. Other than for Chancellor Eisner’s appearance as host, I intend to be the only
     head of state present.”
    “And what’s your purpose?”
    “To make a statement that’ll be heard.”
    “By whom?”
    “The oppressed.”
    “Where?”
    “Everywhere. But especially in Liberia, Angola, Burundi, and Rwanda, where the suffering is fearsome and must be stopped at
     once. So I’m going to make some noise.”
    “You make me want to stand up and cheer, Mr. President. But it’s not going to be that simple.”
    “I don’t expect it to be simple, Tommy. That’s why you’re here.”
    “Frankly, I can see only one way to handle this, and that’s with total secrecy and surprise.”
    “Which means?”
    “You would just appear at Wannsee on the thirteenth, shake hands with Eisner, make your noise… as you call it… and leave.
    “There’ll be a trade meeting going on in Brussels at about that time,” said Cortlandt. “Could you arrange to put in a brief,
     ceremonial appearance?”
    “No problem. I was sending the vice president, but I’ll go myself.”
    “That would be perfect cover for your whole trip. You could fly into Brussels on the twelfth, stay overnight, and make the
     short hop to Berlin early the next morning.”
    “Who would have to know in advance?”
    “No one. The change in your overall schedule would come to less than four hours. You could tell your pilot just before takeoff
     from Brussels.”
    “And security?”
    “I’d have that arranged for both at the NATO air base near Eberswalde, and Wannsee. In fact the secrecy itself would be your
     best possible insurance. What assassins need most is knowing a time and place in advance. And in this, you’d be giving them
     neither.”
    The president weighed Cortlandt’s plan. “You actually make it sound feasible.”
    “It can be done. What I can’t help you with is the flak you’ll have to take afterward from every possible side.”
    “If all goes well, it’ll be worth it.”
    Cortlandt said nothing.
    Dunster’s smile was cool. “Evidently not to you. Right?”
    “Everyone has his own appointment with life, Mr. President.”

Chapter 12
    I F V ICE P RESIDENT J AYSON F LEMING had not arrived early for his briefing with the president, he would have missed running into Tommy Cortlandt as the CIA director
     was leaving the Oval Office.
    “Tommy!” he said, and looked to see who accompanied Cortlandt out of the president’s office. The glance represented years
     of political conditioning, not just curiosity. The fact that Cortlandt appeared to have been alone with the president doubled
     Jayson Fleming’s interest.
    The two men shook hands.
    “How are things, Jay?” said the CIA director.
    “Until I saw you, I thought great. With our top spook coming out of a one-on-one with the Chief, I’m suddenly not so sure.
     Should I send my wife to the country?”
    “Not yet. You’ll be the second to know when I hit the panic button.”
    Fleming and Cortlandt had been friends for more than twenty years. In fact, they had actually worked together at Langley.
    “How about tennis one of these days?” the vice president asked.
    “As long as it’s doubles and you