Windmills of the Gods

‘And hide-bound by State Department tradition. You remember how we lost Romania three years ago? Our experienced career diplomat in Bucharest screwed up and we were out in the cold. The pinstriped boys worry me. They’re all out to cover their asses. When I talked about a people-to-people programme, I meant every word of it. We need to make a positive impression on a country that at this moment is very wary of us.’

‘But if you put an amateur in there – someone with no experience – you’re taking a big risk.’

‘Maybe we need someone with a different kind of experience. Romania is going to be a test case, Stan. A pilot run for my whole programme, if you will.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m not kidding myself. My credibility is on the line. I know that there are a lot of powerful people who don’t want to see this work. If it fails, I’m going to get cut off at the knees. I’ll have to forget about Bulgaria, Albania, Czechoslovakia, and the rest of the Iron Curtain countries. And I don’t intend for that to happen.’

‘I can check out some of our political appointees who –’

President Ellison shook his head. ‘Same problem. I want someone with a completely fresh point of view. Someone who can thaw the ice. The opposite of the ugly American.’

Stanton Rogers was studying the President, puzzled. ‘Paul – I get the impression that you already have someone in mind. Do you?’

Paul Ellison took a cigar from the humidor on his desk and lit it. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said slowly, ‘I think I may have.’

‘Who is he?’

‘She. Did you happen to see the article in the current issue of Foreign Affairs called “Détente Now”?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you think of it?’

‘I thought it was interesting. The author believes that we’re in a position to try to seduce the communist countries into coming into our camp by offering them economic aid –’ He broke off. ‘It was a lot like your inaugural speech.’

‘Only it was written six months earlier. She’s published brilliant articles in Commentary and Public Affairs. Last year I read a book of hers on Eastern European politics, and I must admit it helped clarify some of my ideas.’

‘All right. So she agrees with your theories. That’s no reason to consider her for a post as impor –’

‘Stan – she went further than my theory. She outlined a detailed plan that’s fascinating. She wants to take the four major world economic pacts and combine them.’

‘How can we –?’

‘It would take time, but it could be done. Look, you know that in 1949, the Eastern bloc countries formed a pact for mutual economic assistance, called COMECON, and in 1958 the other European countries formed the EEC – the Common Market.’

‘Right.’

‘We have the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, which includes the United States, some Western bloc countries and Yugoslavia. And don’t forget that the third world countries have formed a non-aligned movement that excludes us.’ The President’s voice was charged with excitement. ‘Think of the possibilities. If we could combine all these plans and form one big marketplace – my God, it could be awesome! It would mean real world trade. And it could bring peace.’

Stanton Rogers said cautiously, ‘It’s an interesting idea, but it’s a long way off.’

‘You know the old Chinese saying, “A journey of a thousand miles starts with but a single step …”’

‘She’s an amateur, Paul.’

‘Some of our finest ambassadors have been amateurs. Anne Armstrong, the former Ambassador to Great Britain, was an educator with no political experience. Perle Mesta was appointed to Denmark, Clare Boothe Luce was Ambassador to Italy. John Gavin, an actor, was the Ambassador to Mexico. One-third of our current ambassadors are what you call “amateurs”.’

‘But you don’t know anything about this woman.’

‘Except that she’s damned bright, and that we’re on the same wavelength. I want you to find out everything you can about her.’ He picked up a copy of Foreign Affairs and glanced at the table of contents. ‘Her name is Mary Ashley.’

Two days later, President Ellison and Stanton Rogers breakfasted together.

‘I got the information you asked for.’ Stanton Rogers pulled a paper from his pocket. ‘Mary Elizabeth Ashley, Twenty-Seven Old Milford Road, Junction City, Kansas. Age, almost thirty-five, married to Dr Edward Ashley – two children, Beth twelve, and Tim ten. Chairman of the Junction City Chapter of the League of Women Voters. Assistant Professor, East European Political Science, Kansas State University. Grandfather born in Romania.’ He looked up. ‘The more I’ve thought about this, the more sense it makes. She probably knows more about Romania than most ambassadors know about the countries they’re going to serve in.’

‘I’m glad you feel that way, Stan. I’d like to have a full security check run on her.’

‘I’ll see that it’s done.’

Chapter Four (#ulink_d735af19-5a74-5218-b713-41444841550b)

‘I disagree, Professor Ashley.’

Barry Dylan, the brightest and youngest of the students in Mary Ashley’s political science seminar, looked around defiantly. ‘Alexandros Ionescu is worse than Ceausescu ever was.’

‘Can you give us some facts to back up that statement?’ Mary Ashley asked.

There were twelve graduate students in the seminar being held in Kansas State University’s Dykstra Hall. The students were seated in a semicircle facing Mary. The waiting lists to get into her classes were longer than any other professor’s at the University. She was a superb teacher, with an easy sense of humour and a warmth that made being around her a pleasure. She had an oval face that changed from interesting to beautiful, depending on her mood. She had the high cheek-bones of a model and almond-shaped, hazel eyes. Her hair was dark and thick. She had a figure that made her female students envious, and the males fantasize, yet she was unaware of how beautiful she was.

Barry was wondering if she was happy with her husband. He reluctantly brought his attention back to the problem at hand.

‘Well, when Ionescu took over Romania, he cracked down on all the pro-Groza elements and re-established a hardline, pro-Soviet position. Even Ceausescu wasn’t that bad.’

Another student spoke up. ‘Then why is President Ellison so anxious to establish diplomatic relations with him?’

‘Because we want to woo him into the Western orbit.’

‘Remember,’ Mary said, ‘Nicolae Ceausescu also had a foot in both camps. What year did that start?’

Barry again. ‘In 1960 when Romania took sides in the dispute between Russia and China to show its independence in international affairs.’

‘What about Romania’s current relationship with the other Warsaw Pact countries, and Russia in particular?’ Mary asked.

‘I’d say it’s stronger now.’

Another voice. ‘I don’t agree. Romania criticized Russia’s invasion of Afghanistan, and they criticized the Russians’ arrangement with the EEC. Also, Professor Ashley –’

The bell sounded. The time was up.

Mary said, ‘Monday we’ll talk about the basic factors that affect the Soviet attitude towards Eastern Europe, and we’ll discuss the possible consequences of President Ellison’s plan to penetrate the Eastern bloc. Have a good weekend.’

Mary watched the students rise and head for the door.

‘You, too, Professor.’

Mary Ashley loved the give and take of the seminars. History and geography came alive in the heated discussions among the bright young graduate students. Foreign names and places became real, and historical events took on flesh and blood. This was her fifth year on the faculty of Kansas State University, and teaching still excited her. She taught five political science classes a year in addition to the graduate seminars, and each of them dealt with the Soviet Union and its satellite countries. At times she felt like a fraud. I’ve never been to any of the countries I teach about, she thought. I’ve never been outside the United States.

Mary Ashley had been born in Junction City, as had her parents. The only member of her family who had known Europe was her grandfather, who had come from the small Romanian village of Voronet.

Mary had planned a trip abroad when she received her Master’s Degree, but that summer she met Edward Ashley, and the European trip had turned into a three-day honeymoon at Waterville, 55 miles from Junction City, where Edward was taking care of a critical heart patient.