“I read something about that once,” Evelyn said. “Didn’t some people want to make George Washington king?”
“That, too. But before that, during the Revolutionary War, an American delegation went to the Stuart pretender living in Paris to offer him the crown, the idea being to win over the loyalty of the American Tories, but he turned out to be a fat old drunk who passed out at the meeting, so nothing came of it.”
Evelyn, half-smiling, said, “Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true. And Aaron Burr’s plot was true, and the secession of the southern states in 1861 was true, and Roosevelt’s attempt to pack the Supreme Court was true, and a thousand other things have been true. There’s no God-given law that says the United States has to be a democracy forever. We’ve lasted longer than most of the governments of history already.”
He could sense her studying his profile as he drove, and he wasn’t surprised when, a moment later, she said, “I have the feeling you’re going to agree with Bradford all the way.”
He glanced at her, grinning, and shook his head. “Not quite all the way,” he said. “That the country’s in grave danger, yes. That the solution is for Bradford Lockridge to defect to Red China... no.”
iii
“Bradford,” Evelyn said, “I talked to Robert, about what you asked me.”
Robert, watching the older man’s face, saw it harden at once, as though Bradford were abruptly steeling himself to exist without aid. He didn’t look at Robert at all, but continued to face his granddaughter as he said, “Did you think that was wise?” His tone was cold, icy with disapproval. He continued to sit in his reading chair in the library, where they’d found him, and they two stood facing him. He hadn’t suggested they sit.
Evelyn said, “I didn’t think it was a decision I could make by myself. I needed help.”
“You’ve always come to me for help, in the past,” Bradford said. His manner was still cold, unforgiving.
Robert broke in: “She already knew what your opinion was, sir. She wanted a second opinion.”
Bradford glanced briefly at Robert’s face, and Robert was startled by the impersonal harshness of his expression. Then, looking back at his granddaughter, he said, “Are you two in love, is that it? You don’t want to come with me because you don’t want to give him up?”
“Bradford,” she said, and Robert could hear the embarrassment and helplessness in her voice, “that isn’t—”
“Because if that’s true, naturally I’ll understand. I wouldn’t try to come between you and your happiness.”
“Bradford—”
“But you should have told me about it. There was no need to bring Robert into the situation, it only complicates my security, don’t you see that?” The cold eyes flicked to Robert. “I hope Evelyn impressed on you the necessity for secrecy. I wouldn’t want interference from the government.”
Robert said, “Interference wasn’t what I had in—”
But Bradford continued with his own thought again, saying, “Because I can’t be stopped, you know. All you could do would be make the situation more complicated, but you couldn’t stop it. No one could stop it.”
Robert made a vague gesture with one hand, not knowing precisely what to say at this juncture. The conversation, which he had imagined in several different modes on the drive down here, had gone off from the beginning in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He said, “It isn’t a question of stopping you, sir, it’s—”
“Let me tell you,” Bradford said, “what will happen if the government learns of my plans and tries to keep me from leaving the country. I will pick up the handiest telephone—” he nodded at the phone across the room “—and announce a news conference. At which I will explain my intention to leave for Peking, my reasons for so doing, and the attempt of government officials to keep me from going. Protected by the spotlight of publicity, I will then be perfectly able to travel unmolested.”
“Sir, I don’t want to—”
“I would prefer to do it quietly,” Bradford said, “and present my government with a fait accompli. I believe that would put fewer noses out of joint, which would be important if I am to be an effective conduit of communication between East and West. But if necessary, I will take the public route. The most important thing is that I go.”
Robert said, “But is it? That’s what I want to question, sir, the advantages of your doing this in the first place.”
Bradford’s lips moved in a thin smile. “I frankly wouldn’t expect you to be enthusiastic. A positive act conflicts with your modish fatalism.”
Robert fought down a sudden flush of anger, but Bradford’s phrase rankled like a burr under the saddle. Had the man intended it to rankle? Robert said, in as neutral a tone as possible, “Evelyn told me how my article fits into your theory, sir, and in many ways you’re right. Modish or not, I do feel fatalistic about this country’s future. The temptation to lay down the burden of freedom is a strong one for any people, and we’ve held out for—”
“You are about to agree with me in principle,” Bradford said, the thin smile showing briefly once again.
“No, sir. I am going to agree with you right on down the line. This country is confused by its internal problems and in despair over its external sins and blunders, and is ripe for dictatorship, we both agree on that. It is very likely to happen unless some huge event takes place, some miracle, something dramatic and unforeseen and tremendously effective, we both agree on that. But what we don’t agree on is that your defecting to Communist Chi—”
“Defecting! I thought Evelyn explained the situation to you.”
“I’m describing it in newspaper shorthand, sir,” Robert said. “Your explanation is a little too long and involved for a headline.”
“In other words, your objection is that you’re worried about me.” The smile was now more openly sardonic.
“Yes, sir,” Robert said. It was growing increasingly difficult to keep his temper.
“And if I say that I’m willing to leave Evelyn here, will that cause you to worry less about her grandfather?”
“No, sir,” Robert said. “Evelyn is old enough to make her own decisions. My only feeling is that you’re about to make a very serious mistake that will spoil your record of—”
“Mistake? Young man, when did you first hear of this plan of mine?”
“This afternoon. About four hours ago.”
“How long do you suppose I’ve been thinking about it?”
“Yes, sir, I realize—”
“How long?”
“For some time, I’m sure, sir, but neverthe—”
“For some time. How long?”
“I imagine, sir, that sooner or later you intend to tell me how long, though I don’t really see what difference it makes. If it was fifty days, or twenty-seven days or a hundred and nine days, it’s still a bad idea. People have been known to keep mistaken notions in their heads for decades.”
“Whereas your brain leaped to the truth at once.”
“In this case, yes, sir. This is a wilder idea than running for Congress, but it comes out of the same—”
“Now you’re a psychiatrist. Evelyn, you seem to have found a Renaissance man.”
“I don’t claim to be a Renaissance man, sir. I don’t claim to be a messiah, either.”
“But I do, is that it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bradford’s eyes glinted above the cold smile. “Tell me, then,” he said. “Which would be better, to fail at the glorious or to succeed at the stodgy?”