Seeing that Roosevelt was still talking to Harriman and King, I leaned toward Bohlen and said: “Since most of the interpreting is going to be done by you, it had better be you that reminds the president of any system you want to get going.”
“System?” Bohlen frowned and shook his head. “Hell, there’s not even a stenographer. And as far as I can see, no one seems to have prepared any position papers on questions that might be discussed. Certainly none that I’ve seen. Doesn’t that strike you as a little bit strange?”
“Come to think of it, yes. But that’s FDR. He likes to improvise. Keep things informal.”
“Is that really feasible when you’re discussing the fate of the postwar world? This ought to be about as formal as it can be, don’t you think?”
“Nothing can surprise me anymore, Chip. Not on this trip.”
“What’s in the briefcase?” Hopkins asked me, pointing to the case at my side. “A bomb?”
I smiled thinly, opened the briefcase, took out the Beketovka File, and handed it over. I was still explaining the contents when Roosevelt cleared his throat loudly and interrupted.
“All right, gentlemen,” he said quietly. “Let’s get down to business. I’ll have to ask Professor Mayer and Mr. Bohlen to suspend their curiosity for a while longer. A lot of this might not make any sense to you right now, so you’ll have to be patient. All will be explained to you both eventually. I’ve asked you here now for a damn good reason. But I’ll come to that presently. Mike-have all the delegations arrived safely?”
“Yesterday.”
“How’s Churchill, Harry?”
“Sulking.”
“Well, I can’t say that I blame him. I’ll call him myself. See if I can’t persuade him to go along with this. As a matter of fact, I think we’re going to have some problems with General Marshall and General Arnold, for the same reason.”
Hopkins shrugged.
“All the same, it’s a pity.” Roosevelt lit a cigarette, smoking it without his holder, which seemed to bespeak a greater nervousness. Adjusting his position in his wheelchair, he looked at Reilly. “Mike? What’s our cover story to justify moving to the Russian embassy?”
“That it’s quite a hike between here and the Soviet embassy. Which would mean you driving through unguarded streets when there are still some German paratroopers at large. Between three and six still unaccounted for, according to the Ivans. Equally, there might be some kind of demonstration against the British, or against the Russians, in which case we might get caught up in it.”
“Actually, that’s quite true,” admitted Roosevelt. “Did you see the welcome we had on the way from the airport? I felt like Hitler driving into Paris.”
“And there’s no doubt,” continued Reilly, “that the Russian and British embassies are, by comparison with ours, almost impregnable. Did you know that this embassy has been robbed several times in the last month? Anyway, the Brits and the Ivans are right next door to each other, so if something did go wrong while we were there, we’d have plenty of troops to protect you, Mr. President. Anyway, the bottom line is this: that I don’t think anyone would argue if we claimed it was your safety that prompted us to move you into the Russian embassy.”
For a moment I wondered if my ears had deceived me. That Reilly had said something about moving the president of the United States into the “safety” of the Russian embassy. But then Roosevelt nodded.
“You say that, Mike,” he said. “But it’ll cause some comment, don’t think it won’t. Whatever the reason we put out. Everyone in the press corps will say that all of my conversations will be taped by the Russians using secret microphones. Unless we have some kind of line on that, I’ll be accused of being naive. Or worse. Not on the ball. Lame. Sick.”
“Then how about we say this?” offered Hopkins. “That in an effort to seem like we came to Teheran with no preconceived strategies cooked up by us and the British…” Hopkins paused for a moment and then added, “That in the spirit of openness and cooperation, we stayed at the Russian embassy in full knowledge that all our conversations would probably be monitored by the Soviets. But that we had nothing to hide from our Soviet allies. And that therefore it really didn’t matter a damn if they recorded our conversations. What do you think, Mr. President?”
“Sounds good, Harry. I like it. Of course, once we’re in the Russian compound we can close everything down and no one in the press will know a goddamned thing about what’s going on. Eh, Mike? No one’s better at keeping a lid on things than the Soviets.”
“That’s why we came to Teheran,” said Reilly. “To keep a lid on things. But before any of this, how about if we say that we asked Stalin over for a drink and he turned us down? That he refused to come over here. That way we can make it look like he’s the one who is more worried about his personal security than you are. And that this is what prompted us to make the move to their embassy in the first place.”
“Good,” said Roosevelt. “I like that, too.”
“And after all, Mr. President,” said King, “let’s not forget that it’s you who has come halfway around the world to be here. Not Stalin. It isn’t you who’s afraid of flying.”
“True, Ernie, true,” admitted Roosevelt.
“So when do we pull off this charade?” asked Harriman.
“Tonight,” said Roosevelt. “That way we can get things under way first thing in the morning. If the other side is agreeable.”
“They are,” said Reilly. “But Mr. Harriman raises a useful point when he mentions a charade. I mean, it might be best if we arranged some kind of decoy that saw you leaving the legation here and going to the Russian compound. Like before, with Agent Holmes pretending to be you.”
“You mean like a dummy cavalcade? Yes, that’s good. And meanwhile we go there in an unmarked van, through a side door, maybe. The servants’ entrance.”
“Are Soviet embassies allowed to have a servants’ entrance?” Hopkins laughed. “It sounds kind of anti-Communist.”
“I for one am not sure I like the idea of the president of the United States sneaking in and out of buildings like a common thief,” said Admiral King. “It sounds, well, sir, lacking in dignity.”
“Believe me, Ernie,” Roosevelt said, “there’s not much dignity when you’re a man in a wheelchair. Besides, whatever happens I’m going to be having a better time than Hull.”
Harry Hopkins laughed again. “I’d love to see him now, the bastard. Thay, are thoth bombth I heard jutht now?”
Roosevelt guffawed. “You’re a cruel son of a bitch, Harry. I guess that’s why I like you. And you’re right. I’d love to see Cordell’s face right now.”
“What about records?” asked Hopkins. “Stenographers?”
Roosevelt shook his head. “No, we’ll just exchange the position papers that we have each prepared. Otherwise there’s to be no formal record. Professor Mayer and Mr. Bohlen-if you don’t mind I’m going to start using your first names. Willard? Chip? You will make what notes you need to help with your translations, but I don’t want a written record of what’s said here. At least not in the beginning. And all notes are to be destroyed afterwards. Chip? Willard? Have you got that?”
Bohlen and I, both of us now thoroughly bewildered, nodded our compliance. I had started to think that there was something else we hadn’t yet been told. Something we might not like. Averell Harriman was looking even more uncomfortable.
“Sir,” said Harriman now. “The absence of records could be dangerous. It’s one thing not to have a record when it’s you speaking to Mr. Churchill. You and he are on the same wavelength, at least most of the time. But the Soviets can be quite literal-minded about things. You say something, they will expect to hold you to the letter.”