The admiral nodded. “We went to considerable trouble to create that impression.”
Fitzhugh’s mind whirled and a desperate hope came to him. “My son?”
The admiral closed his eyes for a second and shook his head. “Sit down, Senator Fitzhugh, and let me have your breakfast brought in. We have eggs ready the way that you like them. This, at least, we can do for you.”
“I… I am astounded,” Fitzhugh said.
“I can appreciate that,” the admiral said clearly. “I assumed command of this operation, senator, on the direct orders of the President. I have the documents here if you wish to see them.” Fitzhugh was still stunned. “That… won’t be necessary.” “Good. Here is your ration, I believe.” He waited while the senator’s breakfast was set before him. Then he sat down easily and rested an arm across the back of the chair. “While you’re eating, I have some information for you. Our enemies, and I believe you recognize them as such now, have been making fun of our diplomacy for years and ridiculing our genuine peace efforts. But when we get tough, they understand perfectly. You remember Kennedy’s actions during the Cuban missile crisis.”
“Yes.” Fitzhugh was somewhat uncomfortable, but he ate his eggs and listened.
“Well, we got tough yesterday. We closed in on their murder team that killed your son and the other students. Forgive my referring to it, but I think you’d want to know. We disposed of them.” “You mean that…”
The admiral nodded briskly. “Yes, senator. Included in the group were two professional torturers and a well-known assassin. He was personally responsible…”
The senator shut his eyes for a moment.
“They won’t do it anymore.”
The senator picked up a glass of orange juice in a hand that shook a little. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Now, senator, another matter. In a major operation, to which we gave maximum attention for many weeks and in which many people risked their lives in very hazardous assignments, we arranged for the escape of one of our most potent FBM’s — Fleet Ballistic Missile submarine, that is.”
“I know of this.”
“Of course. Very recently the enemy boasted to one of our people that the submarine had been sunk. Our best guess is that there is a forty per cent chance that this may be so, but we aren’t sure.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“Yes, but that would require her to send out a signal and thereby expose herself to additional risk. If we transmit to her and request a reply, the enemy will know and will be listening too.”
“I see.”
“Therefore we may be playing with a bust hand; we don’t know if our hole card has been stolen or not.”
“There’s no time that the submarine is scheduled to report in?” The admiral shook his head. “Her captain is under direct orders not to transmit any signal whatsoever unless directed, or under circumstances that don’t pertain here.”
Fitzhugh rubbed a hand across his face. “I still can’t believe that you’re alive and that I’m sitting here talking to you.”
“Well, you are.” The admiral let him take his time.
“I have read the address you prepared for me,” the senator began, thinking aloud. “If the submarine has been sunk, then it would be pure suicide to deliver it.”
“Precisely.” Admiral Haymarket nodded his approval.
“But if there is no broadcast.”
“Then we’re right back where we started and the war goes on indefinitely.”
“The war?”
“Yes, senator.” „
“You see no peace ahead?”
“Do you?”
Fitzhugh thought for a moment or two. “No,” he said at last. “There you have it. If you prefer not to go on the air, I’ll understand and we do have other resources. There’s a celebrated war hero from Hawaii in the Senate and if we can get hold of him…” Fitzhugh lifted his hand. “I have no one left to me,” he said. “Only the memory of my son. This is the second time that you’ve invited me to cut my throat. I may do it this time.”
Admiral Haymarket made it as easy as he could. “Why don’t we cut the tape,” he suggested. “Then we’ll hold it pending your final decision.”
“All my decisions are final, admiral,” Fitzhugh answered him. “I’ll make the broadcast.”
The videotape was done the same morning. Once he found himself facing the familiar broadcasting equipment, Solomon Fitzhugh assumed the manner that was internationally known; once more he was the wise, powerful, and sincere senior lawmaker who carried great weight and authority. He had to be believed; conviction rang from his every word. His performance was masterly and as the admiral watched on the monitor in his office he gave silent thanks that he had chosen the right man. If Solomon Fitzhugh said these things, and sounded as if he meant them, then it would hearten the whole nation and help immensely to bring things to a rapid climax. Speed, in moderation, was essential now: Magsaysay could not remain at sea indefinitely, if she was still afloat, and each day that passed made the enemy stronger in the United States.
When the senator had finished, he asked to see the admiral once more. When he was shown into Haymarket’s office he sat down limply and ignored the cup of coffee that was placed before him.
“I’ve delivered your speech,” he said. “Exactly as it was written — that was my agreement and I have carried it out. What do you want to do with me now?”
The admiral looked at him and saw an aging man from whom much energy had been effectively drained out. It was not the speech that had done it, he knew; it was the pressure the man had been under, the grief, the agonizing reappraisal of his position, the defeat of the personal philosophy that had guided him, publicly and privately, for years. For the first time since he had known Solomon Fitzhugh he felt for him.
A teletype in the corner of the office began to clatter; the admiral got up and stood before it, waiting for the message to be completed. When the machine stopped he tore off the yellow paper and brought it back to his desk. He studied it carefully and then handed it to Fitzhugh. The senator adjusted his glasses and read:
MY WARMEST AND MOST SINCERE APPRECIATION TO A BRAVE, HONORABLE, AND DEDICATED AMERICAN. YOU HAVE BROUGHT GREAT CREDIT TO YOURSELF AND TO THE MEMORY OF YOUR SON.
POTOMAC
The senator knew without asking, but he allowed himself to have a small added satisfaction. “The signature…”
The admiral understood completely. “The President,” he said. “He was notified and was watching.”
“He is all right then?”
“Very much so.”
“Is he here?”
Haymarket shook his head. “I trust you completely, senator, but you have no need to know.”
“Of course.”
Haymarket became more practical, and very considerate. “You will be our guest here for a while, sir, I believe that was explained to you before you came.”
“Yes, admiral, it was.”
“Then one of our people will look after you beginning immediately. It may please you to know that we have brought your man from Washington and he will be here shordy to take care of your needs for as long as you are with us.”
Fitzhugh recovered a little. “That is most kind of you, admiral.” “Nothing at all, senator. As a matter of fact he might have been in an awkward position if we hadn’t protected him and we deemed it only good judgment. Now, sir, let’s hope to God that our submarine is still at sea.”
“Amen,” Fitzhugh said.
When the amenities were over and Senator Solomon Fitzhugh had been shown to the quarters he would have to occupy for the time being, a harder and more factual appraisal of his work began almost immediately. This was Ed Higbee’s show, and to him the rest of the First Team gladly deferred. Higbee saw the brief tape three times and then individual parts of it once again before he ventured an opinion. “It isn’t perfect, far from it,” he told General Gifford, “but all things considered it is damn good. I’m going to use it as is. If we tried to patch out the few soft spots, or asked Fitzhugh to redo the whole thing, we’d probably lose more than we’d gain in the process.”