Windmills of the Gods

Mary held back her temper. “No, sir. My knowledge of the world comes from studying it. I have a Ph.D. in political science, and I’ve been teaching at Kansas State University for five years, with an emphasis on the iron curtain countries. I’m familiar with the current problems of the Remanian people, and with what their government thinks of the United States and why. I-” She broke off, afraid she had gone too far. And then, to her surprise, the committee started to applaud. All except Turkel.

The questioning went on. One hour later Senator Campbell asked, “Are there any more questions?”

“I think the nominee has expressed herself very clearly,” one of the Senators commented.

“I agree. Thank you, Mrs. Ashley. This session is adjourned.

Pete Connors studied Mary thoughtfully a moment, then quietly left as the members of the press swarmed around her.

“Turn this way, Mrs. Ashley. Smile, please. One more.

“Mrs. Ashley-“

Ben Cohn stood apart from the others, watching and listening. She’s good, he thought; she has all the right answers. But there was something about her nomination that puzzled him. The problem was that he was not sure what it was.

When Mary arrived back at the hotel, emotionally drained, Stanton Rogers telephoned. “Hello, Madam Ambassador.”

She felt giddy with relief “You mean I’m going to make it? Oh, Stan, I can’t tell you how excited I am.”

“So am I, Mary.” His voice was filled with pride. “So am I.”

THE final confirmation was almost a formality. The full Senate voted Mary in by a comfortable majority. President Ellison said to. Stanton Rogers, “Our plan is under way, Stan. Nothing can stop us now.

Rogers nodded. “Nothing,” he agreed.

PETE Connors was in his office when he heard the news. He immediately wrote out a message and encoded it., One of his men was on duty in the CIA cable room.

“I want to use the Roger Channel,” Connors said. “Wait outside.” The Roger Channel is the CIgs ultraprivate cable system, only for top executives. The cable was addressed to Sigmund.

MARY Ashley was sworn in as the ambassador to the Socialist Republic of Remania, and the treadmill began. She was ordered to report to the Bureau of European Affairs at the State Department. There she was assigned a small, boxlike office next to the Remanian desk.

James Stickley, the Remanian desk officer, was a career diplomat, with twenty-five years in the service. He was in his late fifties, with a foxlike face and pale, cold eyes. He was considered the foremost expert on the Remanian desk and had fully expected to be appointed ambassador to Remania. The news about Mary Ashley was a bitter blow. It was bad enough to have been passed over, but to have lost out to a political appointee-an unknown hayseed from Kansas-was galling.

He studied Mary Ashley now, as she sat across from his desk.

Mary was also studying Stickley. There is something meanlooking about him, she thought.

“We’re going to have to make an instant expert out of you.” He handed her an armful of files. “You can start by reading these.”

“I’ll dedicate my morning to it.”

“No. Now I want to introduce you to your military attaches, Colonel William McKinney. And in thirty minutes you’re scheduled to begin a language course in Remanian. The course usually takes months, but I have orders to push you through the mill.”

Bill McKinney wore mufd, but his military bearing was like a uniform. He was a tall middle-aged man, with a seamed, weathered face.

“Madam Ambassador.” His voice was rough and gravelly, as though his throat had suffered an injury.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Mary said. Colonel McKinney was her first staff member, and meeting him gave her a sense of excitement. It seemed to bring her new position much closer. “Have you been to Remania before?”

The colonel and James Stickley exchanged a look.

“He’s been there before,”.” Stickley replied.

EVERY day Mary and Stickley went through the files of the Remanian desk together.

“I’ll be reading the cables you send in,” Stickley informed her. “They will be yellow copies for action, or white copies for information. Duplicates of your cables will go to Defense, the CIA, the USIA, the Treasury Department, and a dozen other departments. One of the first issues you’ll be expected to resolve is Americans being, held in Remanian prisons. We want their release.”

“What are they charged with?”

“Espionage, drugs, theft-anything the Remanians want to charge them with.”

Mary wondered how on earth one went about getting a charge of espionage dismissed.

Right,” she said briskly.

“I’m going to give you a package,” Stickley announced. “Don’t let it out of your hands. It’s for your eyes only. Read it and digest it, and return it to me personally tomorrow morning.” He handed Mary a thick manila envelope sealed with red tape. “Sign for it, please.”

She signed.

During the ride back to the hotel Mary clutched it to her lap, feeling like a character in a James Bond movie. ,

The children were dressed, up and waiting for her.

Oh, dear, Mary remembered. I promised to take them to a Chinese dinner and a movie. “Fellas,” she said, “we’ll have to make our excursion another evening. I have some urgent work to do.”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Okay.”

And Mary thought, Before Edward died, they would have screamed like banshees. But they’ve had to grow up. She took them both in her arms. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.