Fall of Giants

And now Gus was in the middle of his first international crisis.

An overzealous Mexican government official had arrested eight American sailors in the port of Tampico. The men had already been released, the official had apologized, and the trivial incident might have ended there. But the squadron commander, Admiral Mayo, had demanded a twenty-one-gun salute. President Huerta had refused. Piling on the pressure, Wilson had threatened to occupy Veracruz, Mexico’s biggest port.

And so America was on the brink of war. Gus greatly admired the high-principled Woodrow Wilson. The president was not content with the cynical view that one Mexican bandit was pretty much like another. Huerta was a reactionary who had killed his predecessor, and Wilson was looking for a pretext to unseat him. Gus was thrilled that a world leader would say it was not acceptable for men to achieve power through murder. Would there come a day when that principle was accepted by all nations?

The crisis had been cranked up a notch by the Germans. A German ship called the Ypiranga was approaching Veracruz with a cargo of rifles and ammunition for Huerta’s government.

Tension had been high all day, but now Gus was struggling to stay awake. On the desk in front of him, illuminated by a green-shaded lamp, was a typewritten report from army intelligence on the strength of the rebels in Mexico. Intelligence was one of the army’s smaller departments, with only two officers and two clerks, and the report was scrappy. Gus’s mind kept wandering to Caroline Wigmore.

When he arrived in Washington he had called to see Professor Wigmore, one of his Harvard teachers who had moved to Georgetown University. Wigmore had not been at home, but his young second wife was there. Gus had met Caroline several times at campus events, and had been strongly drawn to her quietly thoughtful demeanor and her quick intelligence. “He said he needed to order new shirts,” she said, but Gus could see the strain on her face, and then she added: “But I know he’s gone to his mistress.” Gus had wiped her tears with his handkerchief and she had kissed his lips and said: “I wish I were married to someone trustworthy.”

Caroline had turned out to be surprisingly passionate. Although she would not allow sexual intercourse, they did everything else. She had shuddering orgasms when he did no more than stroke her.

Their affair had been going on for only a month, but already Gus knew that he wanted her to divorce Wigmore and marry him. But she would not hear of it, even though she had no children. She said it would ruin Gus’s career, and she was probably right. It could not be done discreetly, for the scandal would be too juicy-the attractive wife leaving a well-known professor and rapidly marrying a wealthy younger man. Gus knew exactly what his mother would say about such a marriage: “It’s understandable, if the professor was unfaithful, but one can’t meet the woman socially, of course.” The president would be embarrassed, and so would the kind of people a lawyer wanted for clients. It would certainly put paid to any hopes Gus might have had of following his father into the Senate.

Gus told himself he did not care. He loved Caroline and he would rescue her from her husband. He had plenty of money, and when his father died he would be a millionaire. He would find some other career. Perhaps he might become a journalist, reporting from foreign capitals.

All the same he felt a stabbing pain of regret. He had just got a job in the White House, something young men dreamed of. It would be agonizingly hard to give that up, along with all it might lead to.

The phone rang, and Gus was startled by its sudden jangling in the quiet of the West Wing at night. “Oh, my God,” he said, staring at it. “Oh, my God, this is it.” He hesitated several seconds, then at last picked up the handset. He heard the fruity voice of Secretary of State William Jennings Bryan. “I have Joseph Daniels on the line with me, Gus.” Daniels was secretary of the navy. “And the president’s secretary is listening on an extension.”

“Yes, Mr. Secretary, sir,” said Gus. He made his voice calm, but his heart was racing.

“Wake the president, please,” said Secretary Bryan.

“Yes, sir.”

Gus went through the Oval Office and out into the Rose Garden in the cool night air. He ran across to the old building. A guard let him in. He hurried up the main staircase and across the hall to the bedroom door. He took a deep breath and knocked hard, hurting his knuckles.

After a moment he heard Wilson’s voice. “Who is it?”

“Gus Dewar here, Mr. President,” he called. “Secretary Bryan and Secretary Daniels are on the telephone.”

“Just a minute.”