“Well, Artimus, this has been one hell of an evening.”
“Did you see Gomez?”
“How in thunder do you know about Gomez?”
“There is not much that goes on around this town that I don’t know.”
“Still—”,
“Before you left, your man Comfort was a bit indiscreet with Captain Burnsides, our chief of security.”
Seth leaned back in his chair with a groan. “Good Lord, how?”
“Seems he was trying to borrow a pistol and explained why. Fortunately, Burnsides reported to me instead of the Ambassador. Needless to say Burnsides turned him down. In my mind it wasn’t difficult to translate Gomez into a former acquaintance of mine. Ernesto Gomez, a member of the national senate and a fugitive much wanted by Huerta’s secret service. We used to be friends before the Madero purge.”
“There is no excuse for Hand doing that,” Seth steamed. Somehow that big galoot must learn to keep his mouth shut about what we’re doing here. He decided to have a talk with him tomorrow morning.
“Something I should tell you about this horrible night, Artimus.”
The First Secretary raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”
Seth then described the meeting with Gomez and the assault on the cantina by soldiers and the capture of Gomez. He also told of finding the murdered bartender and his daughter. To Seth’s puzzlement, Artimus didn’t show shock. “We found them when we hurried back after the gunmen left. It wasn’t a pretty sight, especially the young prostitute.”
“Most deplorable,” Artimus said with a headshake. “Unfortunately, life has become very cheap under the Huerta regime. Did you find out anything from Gomez?”
Seth frowned. Really, you are a cold blooded case, First Secretary. “Did you know that Francisco Cardenas is Gomez’s brother-in-law?”
“One of the Maderos assassins?”
“The main one, according to Gomez.”
“No, I never made that connection,” Artimus said.
“Yes, Francisco spilled everything to Gomez before he lit out to Guatemala.”
“What did he tell Gomez?”
Seth repeated what Gomez had said about the murders, including the bit about Huerta’s private session with Ambassador Wilson, immediately before giving the go-ahead for the executions.
Artimus raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do you find in that meeting some reason to connect our Ambassador with those abominable killings?”
Seth looked at Artimus with sudden suspicion. Something about his expression, as he put that question, set off a warning bell. Oh damn, have I blundered in trusting him? No choice, I’ve got to chance it. I need his help. “Uh—Artimus, there is something I must tell you in strict confidence—”
“About your true mission down here? Don’t bother, dear fellow. I have already figured it out.”
“Our true mission?”
“It’s all too clear. You and Comfort are conducting an undercover investigation of my Ambassador. From your little adventure tonight, I can logically assume it has to do with his possible connection with the Madero and Suarez murders. After all, the Madero family has been sounding off in the New York Times about Wilson’s alleged responsibility in that sordid business.”
“Have we been bumbling amateurs?”
“Not necessarily. How in blazes did Washington expect otherwise? You can’t go about asking questions of certain international diplomatic personnel down here, as well as meeting secretly with a fugitive Senator, without being discovered. After all, Seth, this isn’t any backwater national capital. It’s Mexico, as close to a cosmopolitan European city as there is in this hemisphere. There is a strong Spanish and French legacy still here”
“Maybe Washington’s mistake was in sending a small town lawyer and an ex-Texas ranger down here to do the job.”
“Do not deprecate your ability. You seem to have made some respectable, if noisy, progress. It’s conceivable that your superiors knew what they were doing, and just maybe they do not fear your exposure, in order to send a message to an ambassador they politically would like to get rid of, especially if they can disclaim any official action with regard to your inquiries.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would anyone believe I would be doing this on my own?”
“Who can actually prove otherwise, no matter their suspicions and who knows, you could be moonlighting for the New York Times.
“Yeah, or the Brooklyn Tagblatt” Seth muttered.
“The what?”
“Nothing, it was just a backhanded reference to something in my past.”
“Sounds like a German newspaper?”
“The largest German language paper in the United States.”
“Any backing by the German government?”
The memory returned of that night at the Rennert Hotel dining room in Baltimore when the German Ambassador offered Annaliese Faver the big chance to go to Washington for that newspaper. Her euphoria resulted in the invitation to Seth to share her bed that night. “Yes,” Seth said, “enough, whereby they could hand over to a woman acquaintance of mine the position of Washington bureau chief.”
“Is she German?”
“A naturalized citizen whose family immigrated from Germany.”
“Curious.”
“How so?” Seth asked, surprised.
“It is just my speculation whether that had any connection with the over-eagerness of the German Embassy here to assist your inquiry.”
Seth shook his head slowly. “Artimus, I can’t see any connection whatsoever.”
“Perhaps you are right, dear fellow, disregard that idea.”
“Yeah,” Seth agreed.
“I must assume you are here on direct orders of Secretary Bryan—no by Jove,—of course, from the President himself. Am I right, friend Seth? He wants to get rid of my Ambassador in the worst way but doesn’t quite know how to do it.”
Seth leaned forward, his consternation growing at the ease with which Artimus had picked apart all aspects of his so-called secret mission.
“Artimus, you must treat that information with the ultimate in discretion. As far as anyone should know is that this mission is strictly a nosey inquiry of Hand and yours truly.” The minute the admonition was out of his mouth, he knew that it was insulting to the First Secretary.
Artimus straightened up in his chair, expression grim. “Mr. Cane, please grant my career some recognition that it would never have survived all these years had I been incapable of maintaining confidences.”
“I was only trying to say—”
“Seth, I know perfectly well what you were trying to say. I recognize the current need of the President not to be publicly associated with an investigation of an esteemed career diplomat, especially where there are allegations of collusion in the murder of a purged popular Mexican President and his Vice-President.”
“You’ve got it all, Artimus.”
“However, I suggest the strong possibility that if I’ve arrived at your real purpose and the powers behind it, others might also have done so.”
“By others, do you mean the Ambassador?”
“Precisely. Don’t underestimate the man, Seth. He’s been in this business even longer than I have. Indeed, I know that he was skeptical of your ostensible mission the second day after your arrival and said as much to us at the breakfast table”
Seth suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary. The horrible experience at the cantina and now, Artimus’ candid assessment of his and Hand’s mission, was unsettling.
“Well damn! I reckon I shouldn’t be surprised. That cover story they fixed up for me was lame at best. I was half resolved anyway to make my final interview with the Ambassador if for no other reason than to be fair. He’s entitled to answer these allegations.”
Seth yawned and found himself running out of steam. “Artimus, there is much that I need to talk about tonight and the extent of what we have learned so far. I’m afraid what happened there in that cantina is pretty shocking. I need your advice but can we postpone this discussion until tomorrow?”
The First Secretary looked at the clock on his wall. “Yes, of course. It is half past one and I have a busy agenda tomorrow. Come to my room at 10:00 tomorrow night when we won’t be interrupted.”
Seth stood up and stretched. “Thanks for indulging me and let me add that I trust you. Please accept my apology for that rude insinuation earlier.” With a yawn he left to go to his room.
54
SETH SPENT MOST OF THE next day working on notes for his report to the President and Secretary of State. It was painfully obvious that he had nothing but hearsay from several dubious sources. The meat of Gomez’s remarks was damaging to Huerta’s version of the killing of President Madero and Suarez and was pretty much what everyone suspected. As for the American Ambassador’s collusion, it amounted to no more than the assertion that Huerta had conferred in private with him before issuing the execution order. It was difficult to place much value on Gomez’s charge that Wilson had a major role in ordering that. Then, there was the surprising information volunteered by the German Ambassador about going with Wilson to the palace to plead for Madero’s and Suarez’s lives.
According to Admiral Hintz, he had to cajole Wilson into accompanying him and had to do most of the appealing to Huerta, while Wilson had sat mostly silent. Without something more substantial, his and Hand’s investigation was a pretty flimsy patch. Maybe they should pack their bags and go home.
Frustrated, he put his notes aside and on impulse, he wrote a letter to Molly. Of late he had been thinking of her, wondering perhaps if it could actually work out. He found he actually missed her company. He felt that once and for all they needed to talk about this age difference. It was important. Maybe not now, but certainly in the next twenty years it might become a problem for her. He sealed the letter, then almost tore it up. He also wrote a short note to Annaliese in which he carefully stayed clear of any personal comment on their relationship. Finally, there was a letter to Ginny describing the City and his and Hand’s activities in most general terms. The letters would have to go out in this evening’s diplomatic mail pouch along with his report to Bryan on the status of the American claims situation.
Hand had been disturbed and angry all day over the murder of the little prostitute. On their return to their room from dinner and after pacing back and forth, he said, “Pard, I’ve got to get out and get some air-maybe get a drink of something stronger than that red wine we had at dinner.”
“Why not? Maybe it will loosen you up. Where will you go?”
“Aw, I reckon to that cantina about two blocks down the street.”
“The same one where you met that newspaper fellow of Dr. Bonillo’s?”
“Yeah, one of the few places that has American bourbon, not old Storm King, but passable stuff”
Seth advised him to “take care and don’t stay out too late because the embassy doors would be locked at eleven.” He then added he would probably be meeting with Artimus in his room until late and wouldn’t be in when Hand returned from the cantina.
‘We’re not doing so good, are we Pard?”
“Maybe we are a little out of our depth.”
“Or maybe there just ain’t anything to find out about our Ambassador friend.”
“Yeah, but what bothers me is all these stories. Did he actually have something to do with the murders? The troubleis there just isn’t anything in the way of hard evidence. Well, off you go and get your drink of bourbon.”
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“Can’t. I told you I have to see Artimus.
“You think we can trust that feller?”
“We’ve got to trust somebody here on the inside of the embassy, if we are ever going to have a chance at finding out what happened here with Huerta that night.”
“Tell me, lawyer, how do you evaluate Senor Gomez’s charge that our Ambassador had a strong hand in ordering the execution of Madero and Suarez?” Artimus asked as he poured two fingers of single malt scotch into Seth’s glass.
Seth took a sip of the scotch and nodded his appreciation. “This is damn good stuff. Not like the scotch whiskey I’ve usually drunk.”
“That was probably blended. This is single malt. Two different worlds. About my question—”
“I think it’s pretty thin stuff. Oh, it is certainly damning with respect to Huerta but then, it’s no surprise, is it? As for the part of Henry Lane Wilson—pure conjecture.”
“Explain?”
“All we can say for sure is that on the night just prior to the murders and just prior to Huerta issuing the final order, Victoriano Huerta and our Ambassador conferred alone for little over an hour here at the embassy in Wilson’s study. We don’t even know they discussed Madero.”
“True.” Artimus said, “It would take testimony of someone who was actually present in that meeting.”
“Then,” Seth said, standing up and walking to the window overlooking the courtyard, “there was General Blanquet’s supposed statement that night when Huerta told him how much he valued the Ambassador’s advice. That was when he confirmed the death order. Again, nothing solid, to link Wilson to the murders.”
He paused to pull the drapes aside and saw the embassy’s Landaulet standing in the courtyard. The car’s headlamps were casting a yellowish light on the wet brick paving. He watched as Mrs. Wilson, under the protection of a black umbrella held by one of the servants, left the automobile and entered the portico, followed by the Ambassador.
“I see the gentleman in question and his wife were out for a formal function this evening?”
“They were dining with President and Mrs. Huerta at the Castle, but you were saying—?”
“On the other hand, we do have Admiral Hintz’s story that Wilson did go with the German Ambassador to the Palace shortly before the murders to plead for Madero and Suarez’s lives even if he didn’t say much.”
“So it appears.”
“Then don’t you see, Artimus, that would seem to contradict Gomez’s and the Madero family’s charge.”
“If taken at face value, it would seem to argue against the Madero allegations. But please remember ,Seth, in the diplomatic world you accept the face value of many assertions at your own risk.”
“I reckon what I’m getting at is that I’m almost at a standstill on this investigation unless something pretty substantial turns up. I mean, serious down home testimony of a witness or discovery of some material evidence. Without it, I reckon Hand and I have been wasting the State Department’s money.”
When Artimus made no comment, Seth added, “I am probably out of line, Artimus, but can you throw any light on what happened?”
Artimus seemed immersed in his own thoughts and did not answer. Seth waited several minutes then said, “Well, my friend, I thank you anyway for the loan of your ears. I expect Hand and I will be winding up this so-called inquiry and head for home and hopefully to do some honest work.”
The First Secretary seemed not to have heard him and sat staring at a framed photograph of Abraham Lincoln on the wall. Seth waved a silent goodnight and started for the door.
“I
knew his son Robert, you know?” Artimus said, pointing at the photograph.
Perplexed, Seth turned back, “Pardon me?”
“Robert Todd Lincoln. Until two years ago he was president of the Pullman Company and before that, Secretary of War and minister to England. My father was a member of the Pullman board of directors. I guess you can say that Robert’s father is my obsession. I’ve made a life long study of that remarkable man and am persuaded that, apart from Washington, possibly, Abraham Lincoln had the most intestinal fortitude of any who has ever held that high office. When the fate of our nation was critical, actions vital to the preservation of this Union were pressed home regardless of constitutional restraints and overwhelming public opinion, in the South and in many areas of the North.”
Seth stared at his new friend, wondering what relevance this had to anything they had been discussing.
Artimus continued, “Many times when Robert was at our home for dinner or we were at his, I would pester him with questions about his father. He was very reluctant to talk about him, this father who saved our Union. The few things he did impart gave me no reason to change my assessment of his father’s greatness. Integrity was the key. But not slavish obedience to custom, rules or upon one or two occasions, the Constitution. Not when the overriding risk to the Union was on the table.”
Seth nodded, “Yes, I understand but—”
“But, you are thinking what does that have to do with your question to me?”
“Right.”
“Lincoln’s interpretation of integrity has to do with the information you want from me. To comply with what you asked bears in no small measure a question of my integrity”
“Listen, Artimus, I was wrong to ask something that would put you on the spot.”
“You understand that my position here as First Secretary imposes both unremitting loyalty to the Ambassador and certain fundamental constraints with respect to my conduct within this embassy. You must further understand that as First Secretary I am privy to practically all that takes place here or passes under my official or unofficial scrutiny.”
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