The Tears of Autumn - Charles McCarry [9]
“You may not like this,” Christopher said. “Wendell hates you people. He said Kennedy ran a dishonest, dishonorable campaign in 1960—lying about a missile gap that didn’t exist and inventing a USIA report that was supposed to show American prestige abroad was at an all-time low.”
“Losers have to have some excuse,” Foley said. “What else?”
“Wendell told Nhu that Kennedy wasn’t elected President —Nixon was. He claimed there’s evidence that votes were stolen in Illinois and a couple of other states where there was a very small difference in the popular vote. The Democrats are in the White House by fraud, according to Wendell. He was very circumstantial, citing numbers and precincts to Nhu.”
Peggy McKinney beat her fist on Sybille’s tablecloth. “I’ve never heard such slander,” she cried. “That man’s passport ought to be taken away from him! I mean, Christ. ...”
Foley unwrapped a cigar. “What did Nhu say to all that?” he asked.
“Nothing. I had a feeling he’d heard it all before.”
Peggy McKinney opened her mouth to speak. Foley laid a hand on her arm. “People like Wendell and Nhu don’t count,” he said. “Power counts—and the right people are in power. I think we’ll stay in power for quite a while.” He grinned for the first time all evening, and sipped his wine. “In fact, if I can use one of the Republicans’ more famous phrases, I think Mr. Nixon can look forward to at least twenty years of treason.”
“Wit is back in the White House,” said Peggy McKinney with tears of laughter in her eyes. “Let’s drink to that.”
6
Sybille led her guests into the salon for coffee. Peggy McKinney stood with Foley, her feet placed at right angles like a model’s. She wore a pink Chanel suit, pearls, and a half-dozen golden bracelets on her right wrist. With her thin, nervous body and her bold features, she might have been taken for a Frenchwoman who had affairs. That, she told Foley, was the impression she had cultivated until the last election; the Kennedys had made her want to be an American again.
Tom Webster had said nothing during dinner. The evening had been spoiled for him by outsiders. Christopher operated all the time on hostile ground; in every country but his own he was a criminal. Outsiders, who did not know how fast betrayal traveled, could do him harm, perhaps even kill him, by knowing his name and speaking it at a cocktail party. Tonight Webster had entrusted Christopher’s identity to two people who had no right to know it. He put his hand on Christopher’s shoulder and began to speak.
He never got the words out. The doorbell rang and Webster went to answer it, closing the door behind him so that no other stranger could catch a glimpse of Christopher. The others went on talking; Christopher heard Webster speaking English in the hall.
When he came back, he held a perforated embassy envelope in his hand. He opened it and read the cable it contained.
“Wonderful,” Webster said in a flat tone. “There’s been a coup d’etat in Saigon. Some generals have seized power. The Saigon station says the coup has succeeded.”
“What about Diem and Nhu?” Foley asked. He took the long white cable out of Webster’s hand and read it. Peggy McKinney, not cleared to read secret traffic, stepped back discreetly; she gazed at Foley and her eyes danced.
“No one knows,” Webster said. “The ambassador talked to Diem and offered him asylum, but he didn’t accept.”
“He’s a dead man,” Christopher said.
Foley handed the cable back to Webster. His face was expressionless.
Christopher watched Sybille put her coffee cup down, very gently, on the table. She sat in a corner of the sofa and looked out the window. Christopher, remembering the anecdote about the golf ball that symbolized a nation, stared at Foley, but the presidential assistant did not glance his way.
Tom Webster went to answer the ringing telephone. When he returned his hair was disheveled. “Diem is dead,” he said. “So is Nhu. They were shot by a young officer in the back of an M-113 armored personnel carrier.”
“American aid,” said Peggy McKinney.
Foley let out a long breath through his