Gregory Fontenoy sat at his desk, standing guard over Senator Jack Pembrook’s outer office. It was a busy couple of weeks, which Gregory both looked forward to and dreaded. The senator (and by extension, Fontenoy) would be escorting delegates from the
Reich to various locations across the country in an attempt to show how the United States could not afford to pay any more than they already were. It would be quite the whirlwind:
Reich military bases outside Chicago and St. Louis; SS bases in the South; San Diego and a meeting with Japanese officials stationed there; and New York City, the show-case of Albert Speer’s post-War redesign. It would be a grueling two weeks, but necessary work. Pembrook was a reformist FJP man from New York, and had been a quiet voice for strengthening the Union for years. The press often referred to him as the Father of the Reformers. Privately...very privately...Fontenoy wondered if that mattered. Freedom and Justice had lost control of the House of Representatives for the first time since the party’s founding in the aftermath of World War III, and they’d only maintained control of the Senate by two seats. Despite official efforts to quietly suppress such talk in the news, many Americans were expecting an anti-FJP sweep in November. The House, the Senate, and the Presidency. It was a crazy thing to imagine. When Fontenoy had been at university a decade ago, it would have been unimaginable. Hell, it would have been treasonous. But now it was reality.
It also meant that this whole circus with the team from Berlin might be pointless too. If the New Federalists or the Liberty Party took the presidency after the election in the fall, in all likelihood the Reich and the USA would be headed for a showdown over future tribute payments. And while Buckliger talked loudly about wanting to continue to ease up on the United States, from what the Senator’s contacts in Berlin had made clear, the Wehrmacht would not stand for a strong independent America. And whereas the SS coup in 2012 had failed, a military coup in 2021 was liable to succeed.
All this woolgathering vanished in an instant as his desk phone rang.
“Senator Pembrook’s office, Gregory Fontenoy speaking.” The man on the other end replied in German, and Fontenoy automatically switched gears.
“
Ja, Herr Nollert. The itinerary you sent over will work for us. The Senator already approved it. We should be meeting your delegation tomorrow at the airport. Wonderful. See you then.”
Phone back in its cradle, Gregory went back to planning.
**********
The next day, as promised, he and the senator and half a dozen other Americans were gathered in the VIP lounge at Thurmond International, waiting for the German delegation from Berlin. Precisely on time, the uniformed men from Berlin strode in, six of them in total, plus their security detail. The Americans subtly stiffened, as if coming to attention. Senator Pembrook stepped forward to greet Deputy Minister Altenburg.
“
Herr Altenburg, a pleasure as always,” the senator said, clicking heels slightly and offering the traditional salute. The German returned the gesture.
“
Danke schoen, Senator. Gehen wir jetzt?”
“
Ja, naturlich.
Das Flugzeug ist hier und wir sind bereit,” the senator replied, and gestured to the smaller government jet waiting on the tarmac. Altenburg nodded in approval, and he and the other Germans began walking toward the door leading out to the awaiting aircraft, the Americans following suit.
A younger man from the group of Germans found Gregory.
“Herr Fontenoy, I presume? I am Joachim Weber, assistant to Chief Analyst Heinrich Gimpel. We’ve spoken on the phone.”
“Ah, Herr Weber, a pleasure to meet you in the flesh.” He meant that too. Weber might not be the Aryan superman specimen that often lurked at the Reichsbotschaft in Omaha, but he had a face that caught Gregory’s attention, as much as he wished it didn’t. It would be a distraction.
“You as well. Do you know what we should expect on today’s travel?”
“Well, we should be in St. Louis within an hour. The local mayor is probably going to roll out the red carpet, meeting us along with the Wehrmacht commander from Fort Wilhelm. Formal reception tonight at the historic old courthouse adjacent to the Westward Expansion Memorial, then meetings tomorrow and a tour of the base, and then off to San Diego the next day.”
“Will we get to go and tour the memorial? I’ve seen pictures, and
Saarinen’s gateway looks most impressive.”
“I’ll speak with the senator, but I’m sure that can be arranged. At least a brief photo opportunity if nothing else.” The four-pronged square gate that stood facing the Mississippi River was truly a sight to behold, and one of the more treasured pre-war landmarks in that part of the country, and was the symbol of St. Louis.
The two delegations chatted politely during the short hop southeast to America’s fourth-largest city. Being from New York, Gregory was always underwhelmed by any other city save Berlin, but objectively he knew it wasn’t small, and there was more
there there than in Omaha. He knew that Germans stationed in America’s capital considered it a hardship posting. Not out of actual physical hardship or danger, but out of sheer boredom. The feeling was well understood, but his career had taken him there, to the seat of power on the continent, and so Omaha was now as much his home as Manhattan. The city they approached on the Mississippi River would be a nice change of scenery if nothing else.
The senator’s conversation with the two leaders of the Germans pulled him out of his woolgathering.
“So Herr Gimpel,” Pembrook began, “what has been your impression of America so far? This is your first trip here, correct?”
The middle-aged Gimpel, even lankier than his assistant, Weber, cleared his throat and began to reply. “Yes senator, this is my first time across the Atlantic. It’s...well I know Omaha isn’t representative of the whole country, so I am excited to get out and see a bit more. The people seem friendly. More so than the French.” The others on the plane chuckled. That was a fair enough answer, Gregory thought.
“Well, I can’t wait to show you New York next week. Omaha is a one-horse town by comparison.” That comment earned even more hearty laughter, mainly from the Americans.
“I am looking forward to it. I’ve read a lot about the city, and Speer’s rebuilding efforts there after the war.”
“Yes, the Reich has always made sure to keep world-important cities going in the end. Just look at London or Paris, like New York they are phoenixes rising from ash.” Again, nods all around, though inwardly Gregory grimaced a little. Paris might have been spared the worst wrath of the Reich during the Second World War, but London? London was a shadow of its former self, and everyone knew it. Between the blitz and the 1970 uprising, and just an overall lack of funds, London was largely a has-been. Though it was doing better these days than Washington or Philadelphia or Boston or the half-dozen other cities in North America that were still restricted military zones nearly half a century after they’d been consumed in nuclear fire. Gregory had been to the Washington Exclusion Zone once with the senator, and the site had awed and horrified him, the slagged ruins under fifty years of decay and natural reclamation.
Just then, the pilot came over the intercom: “Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would please take your seats and buckle your seatbelts, we will be landing shortly in St. Louis.”
