Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [77]
Shearing’s face was bleak, the skin stretched across his cheekbones. “I think you are being naive, Reavley.” Now his tone was critical, impatient. “You’ve read the correspondence from President Wilson. He’s a highly moral man with no understanding whatever of European character or history. In his mind he’s still a schoolmaster who is going to arbitrate between two unruly children in the playground. He intends to be remembered as the honest broker of peace who brought Germany and the Allies together and saved the Old World from itself.”
Matthew swore, and then apologized.
The faintest smile curved Shearing’s lips. “Precisely,” he agreed. “But unhelpful. Chetwin believes that even if the unthinkable happens, and the Lusitania is torpedoed and goes down, Wilson will still dither in virtuous inactivity, and his advisers will remind him of the very real threat to American copper and railroad investments, by Mexico’s chaos. Their army is far too small to fight on two fronts, so their own border will naturally take priority. Unless we can persuade them of Germany’s part in their troubles—which we cannot—Wilson will do nothing.”
Matthew did not reply. He already knew every ploy the British ambassador had used to try to move President Wilson, and failed. America would sell Pittsburgh steel to Britain, as indeed it did to Germany. Individual Americans would come to Europe to fight, and sometimes to die, because they believed in the Allied cause. But there was also a large number of German-speaking Americans, and their heritage and loyalties mattered also.
To act upon any of the messages they had intercepted between Berlin and Washington would betray the fact that the code was known, and the Germans would instantly change it.
“Hoist on our own petard,” Shearing said drily, as if reading Matthew’s mind.
“Yes, sir.”
Shearing looked very steadily at Matthew. “We need something to give us victory in the naval war,” he said softly, his voice gravelly with weariness and the possibility of defeat. “German U-boats hold the Atlantic passages. We have skill, we have courage, but we are being sunk faster than we can replace men or ships. If it continues at this rate, we will be starved into submission before Christmas.”
Matthew thought of Hannah’s husband, Archie. He imagined what it would be like for the men at sea, knowing the elements were impartially violent, battering and devouring all ships alike. But uniquely for them, the enemy could attack from any direction, even the fathomless water below their fragile hulls. One could stand staring at the empty sea stretching to the horizon in every direction, silent but for the wind and water, and the throb of the engines. Then the deck beneath you could explode in destruction, fire, and flying metal. The sea would pour in, pulling you down into its vast darkness and closing over your head.
Shearing was talking. Matthew jerked himself to attention and listened.
“You know Shanley Corcoran, don’t you,” Shearing said.
Matthew was startled.
“Yes, sir. He and my father were friends since university days. I’ve known him all my life.” He could not even say it without the old warmth returning, memories of a hundred occasions of happiness. “He’s one of the best scientists we have.”
Shearing was watching him closely, studying his face. “Do you trust him?”
For once Matthew did not have to think, and the pleasure of that was almost intoxicating. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Shearing nodded. “Good. You’ll know he’s in charge of the Scientific Establishment in Cambridgeshire.”
“Yes, of course.”
A flicker of impatience crossed Shearing’s face. “I wasn’t asking you, Reavley! I know where you live! I don’t want to send for Corcoran, nor do I want to be seen down there myself. What I want done could win us the war, and if we are betrayed either intentionally or by carelessness, we will