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Part Three: Long Distances
Washington, D.C.
1945
James Francis Byrnes was a Congressman, a Senator, a judge, director of two wartime agencies, and now a Secretary of State; he even almost became Vice President, had it not been for the fears of the late Roosevelt and the big-city bosses that he might alienate the Northern liberals.
Nevertheless, he was in a position of great power within the Administration, and it seemed that his power would not wane, and even though he was not the face of American foreign policy that did not stop him from representing it within any manner he selected.
The intercom buzzed. "Yeah?" he asked as he pressed on the speaker. "You have a call coming in from Cairo, Mr. Secretary." replied his secretary. He nodded to himself. "Fine, thank you."
He picked up the receiver. "Hold on for the Premier." Byrnes frowned, tapping incessantly as the moment withered away. Suddenly, a man cleared his throat. "Mr. Prime Minister?" he clarified innocently.
"Mr. Secretary," responded Prime Minister Nokrashy Pasha, "good morning, I believe?" Byrnes chuckled. "Yeah, that's right; good evening, then." he put away a handful of papers in a drawer.
"I needed to confer with you personally, Mr. Secretary." he explained gravely. "On what matter?" Byrnes discerned. "Well, Mr. Secretary, will you be addressing the London conference in person?"
Byrnes brought the event to the front of his mind. "No, I will not, a delegation will represent this Administration." Pasha hmmed. "And what position will this delegation take?" he asked with a more demanding tone.
"The position of whatever best serves the national interests of this country, just as your delegation will for yours." Byrnes was already exhausted of the conversation, whose end was easily foreseeable in his experienced mind.
"Very good," he surprised Byrnes, "very good indeed, yes. If your office would be so kind as to provide any information you find convenient to disclose with our Ministry, we would be much obliged."
"What sort of information?" Pasha hmmed again, this time with a less recognizable undertone. "Whatever proposals you or your office have considered as a possibility for presentation."
Byrnes considered for a moment the request, not intending on being manipulated or otherwise allowing their guard down. "I'll see about that," he answered finally, "is there anything else, Mr. Premier?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Secretary; good morning." he ended the conversation. It was only then that Byrnes realized that there was a lot more going on than he expected. And suffice it to say, he started regretting deciding not to go.
1945
James Francis Byrnes was a Congressman, a Senator, a judge, director of two wartime agencies, and now a Secretary of State; he even almost became Vice President, had it not been for the fears of the late Roosevelt and the big-city bosses that he might alienate the Northern liberals.
Nevertheless, he was in a position of great power within the Administration, and it seemed that his power would not wane, and even though he was not the face of American foreign policy that did not stop him from representing it within any manner he selected.
The intercom buzzed. "Yeah?" he asked as he pressed on the speaker. "You have a call coming in from Cairo, Mr. Secretary." replied his secretary. He nodded to himself. "Fine, thank you."
He picked up the receiver. "Hold on for the Premier." Byrnes frowned, tapping incessantly as the moment withered away. Suddenly, a man cleared his throat. "Mr. Prime Minister?" he clarified innocently.
"Mr. Secretary," responded Prime Minister Nokrashy Pasha, "good morning, I believe?" Byrnes chuckled. "Yeah, that's right; good evening, then." he put away a handful of papers in a drawer.
"I needed to confer with you personally, Mr. Secretary." he explained gravely. "On what matter?" Byrnes discerned. "Well, Mr. Secretary, will you be addressing the London conference in person?"
Byrnes brought the event to the front of his mind. "No, I will not, a delegation will represent this Administration." Pasha hmmed. "And what position will this delegation take?" he asked with a more demanding tone.
"The position of whatever best serves the national interests of this country, just as your delegation will for yours." Byrnes was already exhausted of the conversation, whose end was easily foreseeable in his experienced mind.
"Very good," he surprised Byrnes, "very good indeed, yes. If your office would be so kind as to provide any information you find convenient to disclose with our Ministry, we would be much obliged."
"What sort of information?" Pasha hmmed again, this time with a less recognizable undertone. "Whatever proposals you or your office have considered as a possibility for presentation."
Byrnes considered for a moment the request, not intending on being manipulated or otherwise allowing their guard down. "I'll see about that," he answered finally, "is there anything else, Mr. Premier?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Secretary; good morning." he ended the conversation. It was only then that Byrnes realized that there was a lot more going on than he expected. And suffice it to say, he started regretting deciding not to go.
- Israel
- Word Count: 430