ReUNION: What if the Civil War had never happened? (40 page)

“Don’t go getting cross-legged, Andrew. That one’s on all of our heads. Mine as
well as yours. But reunion is the right thing to do. Someday, everyone’ll know
it. We’ll be folk heroes. They’ll sing songs about us.”

“That I seriously doubt, Buddy,” Carrington said. “So you’re giving me two
choices and asking me to figure out which is the lesser evil.” He sighed
deeply. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you what you want. I’ll vote yea. And damn you
to hell for putting me in this position.”

“I shall consider myself damned to hell, Andrew, although you’re hardly the
first to point me in that direction. But I would also like to say to all of you
that I have never witnessed as much courage as I have seen today, not even on
the battlefield. Everyone of you has earned my confidence and respect.”

“Hmmph,” said Curtis Babineaux, unimpressed.

Bourque looked directly into Babineaux’s eyes. “My affection too, Curtis,”
Bourque said. “My deep and everlasting affection.”

He rose and walked around the table, solemnly shaking the hand of each of the
governors, then he returned to his seat. He winced as he sat down, and paused
for a couple of deep breaths.

Bourque nodded and surveyed the group again. “We have all embarked on a great
–and somewhat perilous—journey, in order to save our people and to ensure their
peace and prosperity till the last pea’s out of the dish,” he said. “I know it
hasn’t been easy for you. It hasn’t been easy for me. But sure as God made
little chickens, I know that we’ve done the right thing, and that history’s
gonna be mighty kind to us.”

“I agree,” Kooter Barnes said, one last time.

“So what’s next?” asked Governor Carrington.

Bourque checked his watch. “What’s next is that you all go back to your
legislative leaders and teach ‘em the new song. And I’m goin’ to the cabinet
room to twist a few arms.”

“You need any help getting those cabinet fellas aboard?” This was Daryl
Burgess, once more imagining himself a five-star general.

“Don’t think so, Daryl, but thanks for the offer,” Bourque said. “I think I can
make them listen to reason.” He smiled broadly.

“Considering how we just voted,” said Governor Carrington, not smiling at all,
“I sure hope you’re right.”

Now the President and the governors said their goodbyes, in a few moments, the
room was empty, except for Bourque and Pickett.

“Ready to go to the cabinet room?” Pickett asked.

“I’m gonna sit awhile,” Bourque said, a little out of breath and sweating
visibly.

“Can I get you anything?” Pickett said, concerned.

“A new pancreas would be nice,” Bourque said.

“If only I could…”

“I know, Roy. I’ll just have to make do.”

“That was quite a performance, Boss,” Pickett said. “You believe everything you
said?”

“Gotta believe, Roy. Can’t persuade anyone if you don’t.”

“I wish the whole nation could have seen you. Callaway too. I felt like I was
watching history happen, watching the world change.”

Bourque appeared thoughtful. “The problem about change is, once it starts, you
never know where it’s going to end up.”

“Maybe, but as long as you’re in control…”

That got a laugh. “Control? You think I’m in control? Well, I’m not. None of us
are, separately or together. We’re mighty lucky if we can hold on long enough
to give history a little nudge in the right direction. That’s the very most we
can hope for.”

“I don’t care what you say, Boss. I think history has just gotten a huge
nudge.”

*

Delphine stepped through the door and quietly closed it behind her. Pickett was
standing in the hall, waiting. “He’s in bed now,” Mr. Pickett, she said. “I
suspect he’ll be napping in no time.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bourque,” Pickett said carefully, as a deputy presidential
assistant walked past. “I’m glad to hear that. He’s had a hard day and it’s not
over.”

The assistant was out of earshot now. “He told me about this afternoon, Roy,”
Delphine said. “He was pretty proud of himself.”

“He was unstoppable, Delphine. I’ve never seen him better. And I know he was
hurting.”

She nodded. “I made sure he took his pills.”

“I hope he’ll do as well with the speech, when the time comes.”

“I think he’ll be up for it,” Delphine said hopefully. “He’s determined.”

They were silent for a moment. So much had been left unsaid. So much couldn’t
be said.

Delphine started to walk down the hall and Roy followed her, as she knew he
would. Suddenly, she started for a small sitting room, grabbing Pickett and
pulling him inside.

“Hey, hey,” he warned. “Someone might see…”

She closed the door behind them. “Might see what?” She asked, and then she bent
to kiss him.

Chapter Twenty

At the same time President Virgil I. “Buddy” Bourque was winning the hearts and
minds of the Confederate state governors, the recently-elected President of the
North American Union, Charles Callaway, was engaged on precisely the same
mission with the eight Congressional leaders—the Senate and House majority and
the minority leaders and their whips. He’d gathered them in the Cabinet Room,
along with Veronica, Eric Wang, and Marty Katz, there to serve as
reinforcements.

“Gentlemen,” the President said, “thank you for coming. I’m sorry I wasn’t able
to reveal the reason for the summons, but I assure you, it is an issue of
enormous national importance. Historic significance.”

“I hope that’s true,” said Oliver Wendell (R-Ok), the Republican Senate
Minority Leader, the person Callaway had narrowly defeated in the recent and
unusually bitter Presidential election. He was a big, florid-faced man who did
not suffer fools gladly and wasn’t especially nice to regular folk either. “I’m
sure you wouldn’t have rousted me out of my committee meeting for anything
less.”

“Sorry about that, Oliver,” Callaway said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “I
had a very narrow of window of time for this meeting. And there’s one other
thing I have to apologize for. This meeting will have to remain secret for now.
Even the fact of the meeting, I’m afraid.”

“Secret?” said Sen. Ed Lockett (D-PA) the Senate Majority Leader, a tubby,
balding old pol, who know not only where the bodies were buried, but who buried
them and why. “Even from the party?”

“Even from your wife, Ed,” Veronica said.

“When can we talk about it?” asked Sen. Jameson Linscott (R-AZ), the Senate
Minority Whip, a big, rather arrogant man without a single hair on his
dome-shaped head, save his formidable eyebrows.

“In a few days,” Callaway told them. “It will all become public knowledge.”

“Well, isn’t that just dandy?” said Rep. Trace Powell, the Republican House
whip and a young, handsome, Maryland boy who considered himself just about
irresistible.

Callaway gave Rep. Powell a tolerant smile, which took a certain effort, since
he couldn’t stand the man. “Trace, if you or anyone else here feels you can’t
honor my request for secrecy,” he said, “please say so now, and you can leave,
no hard feelings or judgments.”

. As Callaway looked around the table, all eight of them, even Trace Powell,
gave him an assenting nod, some less enthusiastically than others. Marty Katz
had predicted that no one would move a muscle, and he was right

“Good,” Callaway said. “Now, let me end the suspense. The NAU apparently finds
itself with the most remarkable opportunity in its history—a chance to increase
its land area by 40% and its population by almost as much.”

All around the table, mouths fell open and eyes regarded him with disbelief.

He paused and smiled, enjoying one of those rare moments when he could surprise
men who walked the world thinking they knew everything.

One Senator caught on immediately. “You’re talking about the Confederacy,” said
Isadore Shiffer, (D-CA), the House Majority Whip, a short, balding man, whose
sharp and sometimes wicked wit tended to keep others at bay.

“Give that man a cigar,” Callaway said, then laughed when he saw Katz reach
into his jacket pocket, “I didn’t mean that literally, Marty. But yes, the
Confederacy. I have reason to believe that the ten states of the CSA are about
to petition Congress to be readmitted to the union.”

Sen. Wendell was also quick to put two and two together. “Ah, now I begin to
understand all this nonsense with President Bourque.”

“Yes,” Callaway admitted. “That’s why Bourque asked for a meeting. The
Confederacy is just about bankrupt and it’s facing a serious military threat
from Mexico.”

Sen. Wendell nodded sagely. “I knew he was going to ask for money, but I
expected you to do the sensible thing and refuse. Evidently, you had other
ideas.”

“We always seem to have different ideas, Oliver,” Callaway said pleasantly.

“Frankly, I don’t give one good God damn about Mexico and its financial
condition.” Sen. Linscott proclaimed.

“It’s the CSA that’s just about bankrupt,” Wang said, correcting him. “Mexico
threatens them militarily.”

“Assuming that’s even true, why should we care?” said Rep. Ezra Crump, a tall,
gangly, plain-spoken Kansas farmer, with an untamable grey cowlick, who
had unexpectedly become the House Republican Minority Whip. “It’s not our
business.

“Ah, but it is,” said Veronica. “If Mexico invades and occupies the Confederacy,
which seems very likely, who do you think will be next?”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Sen. Ed Lockett. “I don’t buy any of this.
We hate the Confederacy. They hate us. If I remember right, they were so
stubborn about their bigotry that they quit the union so they could keep
practicing it.”

“All true,” Callaway said. “But no longer applicable. They know they’d have to
nullify all the Jim Crow laws if they rejoined the union. They know they’d have
to ratify the Constitution and all of its amendments and abide by all Federal
laws.”

“They should have dumped the Jim Crow laws decades ago,” said Sen. Tom Poulos
(D-RI), the Senate Majority Whip, a long-time civil rights advocate, a
dark-haired, dark-eyed beak-nosed man. He’d been born in Greece, but came to
America as a teenager. “It would have been in their own best interest,” he said
with a slight accent.

“Okay, they change their laws. But what would
we
have to do?” asked Sen.
Linscott. He sounded like he wasn’t willing to do anything.

“Give them all the rights and privileges every other state has,” Wang said.

Sen. Linscott considered that. “They’re bankrupt, you say? So you expect us—
they
expect us—to pay their debts and take over their social programs?”

“Yes, but they’d be paying taxes to us,” Marty Katz pointed out.

“They’d
be
us,” Wang said. “And we’d be them.”

“You’d make them our
equals
?” Senator Wendell asked, as if the idea were
unthinkable.

“I can’t see any good reason to do this,” said Rep. Crump. “And I don’t think
we have anything to fear from Garcia, even in the very unlikely event that he
invades the Confederacy.”

Sen. Wendell caught Callaway’s eye. “Mr. President, am I to understand that you
expect us to support you on this?” He asked, vastly amused.

“I do,” Callaway said. “When it comes time for a vote, I hope to have your
enthusiastic support.”

That got a laugh from Trace Powell, the would-be Jack Kennedy. “Well, we can
all dream.”

“It
is
a dream, in a way,” Callaway replied, undiscouraged. “It’s a
secret dream that I think we’ve all had, even Southerners—bringing the
Confederacy back into the union, rebuilding the our country as it once was and
should be. And now, we may have the power to make the dream a reality.”

Sen. Wendell raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Mr. President, you make it sound like
reunion was
your
idea,” he said, feigning confusion. “I was under the
impression that Bourque came to you. Am I mistaken?”

“He did,” Callaway said. “And he was the first to use the word. But the idea
has been in the back of my mind for years.”

Sen. Wendell nodded. “I am truly sorry you did not mention that during the
campaign, and especially in the third debate, Mr. President. If you had, I’m
not so sure you would would
be
President.”

Callaway grinned. “I have more faith in the American people than you do,
Senator.”

“That’s true,” Sen. Wendell mused. “And in my opinion, it’s one of your chief
failings.”

“I know you see it that way,” Callaway said. “And that is one of yours.”

Wang intervened. “Let’s not fight that battle again, gentlemen.”

“Battle? What battle?” Wendell said, pretending innocence.

“Veronica, you said that Mexico was very likely to invade the CSA,” said Sen.
Lockett. “You know something I don’t?”

“Show him, Eric,” Veronica said to Eric Wang, who passed out the Canadian
satellite photos of Garcia’s landing craft fleet. For a few moments, the
Senators studied the pictures.

“I can’t make heads or tails out of this,” said Rep. Crump. “Looks like rows of
canoes to me.”

“They’re LCMs according to our military analysts—mechanized landing craft, each
capable of carrying one tank plus 100 troops,” Callaway said. “They say 234 of
them had been built when these photos were taken. And they’re probably making
more.”

“They’re all sitting in a sheltered Mexican lake just off the Gulf,” Wang
added, pointing to one of the pictures. “Looks like Garcia is just about ready
to go.”

“We think he wants to seize and eventually annex the entire Confederacy, just
like he did with Texas fifteen years ago,” Veronica explained.

Katz cleared his throat. “And that, Senators, would make Mexico the largest and
most populous and eventually most powerful country in North America,” he said,
looking at Sen. Wendell.

“Hmmm,” said Sen. Wendell, perturbed, but not overly. “Perhaps—if everything
you say is true. But seems to me you’re doing a little mindreading there,
Veronica, if you don’t my saying so.”

“Really?” Veronica replied. “So what do you think Garcia is going to do with
200 landing craft? Take 20,000 of his closest friends to his private island for
a swim and a barbeque?”

“I think we have a remarkable combination of circumstances here,” Callaway
persisted. “We’ve never had an opportunity like this before and it may never
come again. It’s a chance for us to achieve our manifest destiny, to finally
heal a wound that’s been festering for 150 years. You’re in favor of that,
aren’t you Oliver?”

“Well, considering how things have turned out, I’m not so sure our
destiny was all that manifest,” Sen. Wendell said. “And as for wounds, we’re
doing pretty well without the Confederacy, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fairly well,” Callaway agreed. “But this would provide a new avenue for growth
and prosperity—and world influence. It would insure our predominance in North
America and it could help us become a true world power, a genuine competitor to
Germany.”

“So now you’re ready to take on Germany?” Rep. Powell asked, taking a shot.
“Pretty ambitious fellow, aren’t you?”

“I find this idea quite offensive,” said Rep. Crump. “Reunion? Paying off
their
debts? That just rewards bad behavior. Let ‘em boil in their own oil, I say.”

“I might agree with you,” Veronica said, “if we weren’t sitting in the same
pot.”

Sen. Wendell shook his head. “Their destiny isn’t connected with ours,
Veronica. They pulled the plug on that deal 150 years ago.”

“Let’s say we refuse Bourque’s most generous offer,” said Senator Powell, not
sparing the sarcasm. “What happens then?”

“Well, Senator, from a political standpoint, I think his next play would be
obvious,” Marty Katz said.

Wendell raised an eyebrow. “By all means, enlighten us.”

Katz ignored his tone of voice. “Okay,” he said. “If I were Buddy Bourque—and
thank God I’m not—I’d book a plane ticket for Mexico City and make Garcia the
same offer I made to President Callaway. And if I were Garcia, I’d probably
accept—peaceful acquisition is a lot less messy than conquest. Cheaper too.”

“Hmmm,” said Sen. Wendell.

“And that would make
Mexico
the largest and most powerful country in
North America,” Callaway pointed out.”

“I think you said that before,” Sen. Powell said.

“Well, it bears repeating,” said Rep. Robert Wilcox, Speaker of the House,
finally speaking up. He was a plain-faced, brown-haired man, and, quite
famously, about as talkative as a wooden plank.

“How long do you think it would be,” Veronica asked Sen. Wendell, “before
El
Presidente
started eyeing Oklahoma—or California?”

Wendell didn’t answer.

“That would make my constituents very nervous,” said Sen. Shiffer. “How about
yours, Oliver?”

“Perhaps—if that photo analysis is right and everything else I’ve heard is
true.” Sen. Wendell said. “But I’m not convinced. Reunion seems to me a wild
overreaction to the circumstances. My constituents aren’t going to like it one
little bit. Hell, I’m not sure Bourque can persuade his own people.”

“He’s pretty confident,” Wang said. “He’s talking to his governors today.”

Sen. Wendell looked at Wang dubiously. “And you really believe he can pull it
off?” Before Wang could answer, the
President’s phone rang. He picked it up and listened for a moment, then put his
hand over the receiver. “I have to take this one, gentlemen.” He swiveled
around, putting his back to the Senators. After a few minutes of inaudible
chatting, he hung up and turned back to his guests. “We have some news,
gentlemen, and it is directly related to this conversation. The National
Security Agency has discovered something and I’ve asked Linus Hawke to join
us.”

The Senators looked at each other, surprised and curious, failing to notice the
exchange of knowing glances between Veronica, Katz and the President, none of
whom seemed surprised at all. Linus Hawke arrived less than five minutes
later.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were in a meeting, Mr. President,” Hawke lied
smoothly.

“You know everyone don’t you, Linus?” Callaway said.

“I do indeed,” Hawke said, nodding to the Senators. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.
Oliver. Ed. Nice to see you.”

“Have a seat, Director,” said the President. “And tell everyone what you told
me. Don’t hold anything back.”

Hawke slipped into a chair with his usual grace and elegance. In an earlier
era, he might have snapped open a slim gold case and lit up a long, brown
Turkish cigarette and, in his infuriatingly deliberate manner, began to deliver
his news.

“Gentlemen, the National Security Agency has intercepted an electronic
transmission from the German Ambassador to Mexico, Friederich von Zimmerman to
the German Chancellor, Walther Wohler. I felt I had to call it to the
President’s attention.”