Winter of the World

‘You work in the Old Executive Office Building, across the street from the White House.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘I’m a detective.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m around the corner, at Aroma Coffee on F Street and Nineteenth.’

‘I can’t come now.’ Greg looked at his watch. ‘In fact, I have to hang up right away.’

‘I’ll wait.’

‘Give me an hour.’

Greg hurried down the stairs. He arrived at the main entrance just as a Rolls-Royce motor car came silently to a stop outside. An overweight chauffeur clambered out and opened the rear door. The passenger who emerged was tall, lean and handsome, with a full head of silver hair. He wore a perfectly cut double-breasted suit of pearl-grey flannel that draped him in a style only London tailors could achieve. As he ascended the granite steps to the huge building, his fat chauffeur hurried after him, carrying his briefcase.

He was Sumner Welles, Undersecretary of State, number two at the State Department, and personal friend of President Roosevelt.

The chauffeur was about to hand the briefcase to a waiting State Department usher when Greg stepped forward. ‘Good morning, sir,’ he said, and he smoothly took the briefcase from the chauffeur and held the door open. Then he followed Welles into the building.

Greg had got into the information office because he was able to show factual, well-written articles he had produced for the Harvard Crimson. However, he did not want to end up a press attaché. He had higher ambitions.

Greg admired Sumner Welles, who reminded him of his father. The good looks, the fine clothes and the charm concealed a ruthless operator. Welles was determined to take over from his boss, Secretary of State Cordell Hull, and never hesitated to go behind his back and speak directly to the President – which infuriated Hull. Greg found it exciting to be close to someone who had power and was not afraid to use it. That was what he wanted for himself.

Welles had taken a shine to him. People often did take a shine to Greg, especially when he wanted them to; but in the case of Welles there was another factor. Though Welles was married – apparently happily, to an heiress – he had a fondness for attractive young men.

Greg was heterosexual to a fault. He had a steady girl at Harvard, a Radcliffe student named Emily Hardcastle, who had promised to acquire a birth-control device before September; and here in Washington he was dating Rita, the voluptuous daughter of Congressman Lawrence of Texas. He walked a tightrope with Welles. He avoided all physical contact while being amiable enough to remain in favour. Also, he stayed away from Welles any time after the cocktail hour, when the older man’s inhibitions weakened and his hands began to stray.

Now, as the senior staff gathered in the office for the ten o’clock meeting, Welles said: ‘You can stay for this, my boy. It will be good for your education.’ Greg was thrilled. He wondered if the meeting would give him a chance to shine. He wanted people to notice him and be impressed.

A few minutes later, Senator Dewar arrived with his son Woody. Father and son were lanky and large-headed, and wore similar dark-blue single-breasted linen summer suits. However, Woody differed from his father in being artistic: his photographs for the Harvard Crimson had won prizes. Woody nodded to Welles’s senior assistant, Bexforth Ross: they must have met before. Bexforth was an excessively self-satisfied guy who called Greg ‘Russkie’ because of his Russian name.

Welles opened the meeting by saying: ‘I now have to tell you all something highly confidential that must not be repeated outside this room. The President is going to meet with the British Prime Minister early next month.’

Greg just stopped himself from saying Wow.

‘Good!’ said Gus Dewar. ‘Where?’

‘The plan is to rendezvous by ship somewhere in the Atlantic, for security and to reduce Churchill’s travel time. The President wants me to attend, while Secretary of State Hull stays here in Washington to mind the store. He also wants you there, Gus.’

‘I’m honoured,’ said Gus. ‘What’s the agenda?’

‘The British seem to have beaten off the threat of invasion, for now, but they’re too weak to attack the Germans on the European continent – unless we help. Therefore Churchill will ask us to declare war on Germany. We will refuse, of course. Once we’ve got past that, the President wants a joint statement of aims.’

‘Not war aims,’ Gus said.

‘No, because the United States is not at war and has no intention of going to war. But we are non-belligerently allied with the British, we’re supplying them with just about everything they need on unlimited credit, and when peace comes at last we expect to have a say in how the postwar world is run.’

‘Will that include a strengthened League of Nations?’ Gus asked. He was keen on this idea, Greg knew; and so was Welles.