Topaz - Leon Uris [114]
Pierre La Croix rose majestically behind his massive gold ornate table, greeting the Americans with the thinnest possible warmth. To André Devereaux, whom he had not seen in over a year, there was a slight nod of the head.
Military and intelligence aides, the Director of the Presidential Executive, and Granville arranged themselves before him.
“Your President,” La Croix said, “does me honor to send such a distinguished personage. I am certain the occasion is appropriate. But let’s be clear on one point. Are you here to consult or inform?”
“To inform,” Ambassador Davis answered.
“Then you are to be aware that La Croix and France favor making their own decisions.”
“We are aware.”
“You may proceed.”
“We have complete evidence of the introduction of Soviet intermediate-range missiles in Cuba, and the President is going to announce a quarantine against further Soviet weapons,” the Ambassador said.
“A blockade at sea?”
“A quarantine. Peaceful cargo will not be stopped.”
Marshall McKittrick, speaking Yankee-accented French, gave a full briefing, explaining the photographs which he produced, the meanings of the other intelligence reports and the cause for the decision. Playing up to the President’s vanity, McKittrick asked him to identify clusters of Russian fighter planes and missile towers, which he did, holding a magnifying glass over the photos.
“Of course,” La Croix said, “it was the French Secret Service that identified these for you.”
“The contribution of Monsieur Devereaux has been enormous,” McKittrick agreed.
La Croix set the magnifying glass down, folded his hands and thought. Outside, through the four tall windows overlooking the garden they could see the Republican guards in their white leggings cross in patrol.
“Why do you believe the Soviets did this?” he asked.
“On the gamble they could get away with it,” McKittrick answered. “They won’t,” he added.
Looking at the President, André remembered his earlier thoughts on a Russian-American confrontation. Had it come?
“Certainly a great power such as the United States would not act without sufficient evidence,” La Croix said. “Your President is using his national prerogative. You may tell him that France understands his position. Otherwise, until a request for commitment is made by you, none will be made by us.”
La Croix shoved the photographs and documents in the direction of Colonel Brune. “I want these studied and evaluated. Devereaux will remain in Paris to advise and assist. Granville, summon a Cabinet meeting for one hour from now. You gentlemen will attend, and until then no mention of this crisis will be made.” He turned to the Americans. “Advice will be forthcoming on this matter,” he said.
“The Ambassador will be at your service,” McKittrick said. “I have to leave for London immediately to inform the Prime Minister.”
“The British have not been informed?”
“Only the Ambassador in Washington.”
La Croix digested this information with obvious skepticism, for he always looked for and suspected an Anglo-American plot.
“There is another matter,” McKittrick said. “The President asked me to deliver this letter to you.”
La Croix zipped open the envelope and adjusted his thick glasses. He finished the letter and folded it. “Have a safe journey to London,” he said.
There was a shuffling of chairs as everyone came to his feet.
“Colonel Brune, you and Devereaux remain.”
When the room was cleared, La Croix handed the letter to Colonel Brune. André watched his dull gray eyes for a telltale sign. The paper rattled a trifle in Brune’s nervous hands. He looked up queerly from Devereaux to La Croix.
“Well?”
“I have no comment on this matter until I am further acquainted with the facts,” Brune answered.
“How long have you known of this Topaz business, Devereaux?”
“It has been revealed just recently.”
“Why weren’t we informed at once?”
“I used my prerogative in that I believed it in the best interest not to sound a premature alarm.”
“What is the source?”
“A Soviet defector named Boris Kuznetov.