by Morris West
That’s the easy part. Now you and Vannikov have to decide who you’re going to put in front of the TV cameras and at press conferences. That’s what this story is going to bring us: requests for appearances on money programmes, in political slots on the news commentaries. How soon can I have your list?’
This evening. What’s Vannikov doing?’
‘Same thing. Conferring and coming back to us. Tanya is putting some pressure on him. She’s a firebrand, that one. I like her.’
‘I do, too, but let’s get down to cases. We need to prepare the people we put up. We can’t afford fumblers and bumblers on camera or in a press conference. Tell me what you expect in the interrogations.’
‘Let’s take the financial questions first. They’ll be the simplest and most direct. Who are the financial participants? How is the money being raised? How is the investment being managed? How are the funds secured? How is the problem of soft roubles and hard currencies being addressed? What trade concessions, if any, are being offered? All that sort of thing. Any of your senior bankers should be able to handle that kind of interview. However, the Russians will come under heaviest fire. They’ll be questioned about all the things which are still unresolved in this debate between the centralists and the dissident republics. I told Vannikov this. He went a little green. I hope he can handle it.’
‘As well as any, Alex. He’s worried, of course, we all are, by the bitterness of the debates and now the possible threats of armed intervention against dissident republics. Let’s talk about the politics of Germany and Japan.’
Boyko gave a small, grim laugh and reached for a cigarette. ‘I can give you that one, chapter and verse. Item one: the Kuril Islands, which are still the bone in Japan’s throat. Germany is restored and reunited, but there are still three hundred and fifty thousand Russian troops on German soil. Even so, Japan still remains to be satisfied. Item two: shades of Richard Sorge. The Berlin/Tokyo axis is now being rebuilt, with good commercial intent, of course, but with bad historic vibrations. Item three: China is still the sleeping Socialist giant. How does China react if, in fact, Japan negotiates favoured-nation access to Siberia and thence begins fingering back into Manchuria?’
‘Who knows, Alex? I don’t.’
‘Neither do I, but whoever’s going to be talking for the Germans and the Japanese had better be very clear and very eloquent. I hope you’re not putting yourself on the witness stand, Gil.’
‘Hell, no. I’m a mediator, not a persuader.’
‘It’s a precise distinction’ said Alex Boyko. ‘It will not recommend itself to the ladies and gentlemen of the press. So, I tell you as a friend, keep your head down. Which reminds me, various embassies, including the Americans, have telephoned and asked us to put them on the distribution list for press releases. What do you want to do about that?’
‘Let them have it; but ask them to arrange their own pick-up. Once it goes on the wire, the stuff’s in public domain anyway. Any other problems?’
‘Only one, Gil, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. My son’s flying an F16 in the Saudi desert. I haven’t prayed for years. I’m doing it now.’
‘I think we’re all doing it, one way and another, Alex. The problem is that the Iraqis are talking to God too. The hotline to heaven must sound awfully confused.’
‘That’s the mystery I’ve never fathomed, Gil. My God and thy God. And which one of them created us crazy human animals.’
There were messages in my room: one from Leibig asking me to stand by from two until four in case any of the committees wanted to call me; another from Tanaka, curt and imperious: ‘Meeting my suite five thirty. Leibig, Laszlo will attend.’
The third message was the real surprise packet.
It was hand-written on hotel stationery.
Dear Gil,
My wife and I are taking a week’s pre-Christmas leave. We’re lodged in the Writers’ Wing in the Noel Coward suite. My wife would love to meet you. Suggest afternoon tea, four-ish, if your duties permit. Max Wylie.
I wished him to hell, crumpled the note and tossed it into the wastebasket. The last thing I needed was a fencing match over the teacups, with Wylie’s wife as spectator. Then I had a wiser thought: it might be useful to have Wylie’s updated view of the crisis in the Gulf and the waves of reaction building up inside the Soviet Union against the secessionist republics. He would not give away any secrets, but he might be willing to trade some useful items or add a gloss to those we already knew. It should not be too costly a transaction for either of us. There might even be a small profit in it. I telephoned Wylie’s suite. He had just come up from the pool. I told him I hoped to be free at four o’clock.
‘But don’t be offended if I don’t show. The arrangement is that I have to be on call for any delegate who needs me.’
‘Understood, of course. We hope you can make it. How is Marta?’
‘She’s in hospital.’
‘What!’
The surprise in his voice was genuine. I had to give him a blow-by-blow description of Marta’s dramatic arrival in Bangkok. It seemed to leave him puzzled.
‘What should I do, Gil? Visit her? Send flowers? Lie low and say nothing? She certainly had no idea we were coming to Bangkok.’
‘A visit might be untimely. She’s still weak and depressed.’
‘How is she with you?’
‘Well, I guess you could say we’re friends again, in a tremulous fashion.’
‘Is she coming back to the conference?’
‘Possibly, but only possibly, for the second week. I’ll be seeing her tonight. I’ll mention that you’re in town. If she wants to see you, she’ll tell me.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate that. How is the conference going?’
‘It’s opened well. The first press announcement went out a short while ago.’
‘I know. I thought it was a very well framed document.’
‘Where the hell did you get it?’
He chuckled happily. ‘You know me, Gil. The eye that never sleeps; the ear that always listens; and you mustn’t sully your lips with the rest of it.’
‘You told me you were on holiday.’
‘We are.’ A new sombre note crept into his voice. ‘It could be the last we get for a long while. Things don’t look good, Gil.’
‘I agree, Max. What’s bothering me is that every day it gets harder to sort out the truth from the fictions. That’s always a sinister sign.’
‘I’m not getting too much fiction across my desk, Gil.’
I guess not.’
‘Anyway, when we’ve had tea, I’d like twenty minutes of your time. I don’t talk business with Jeannine. It’s safer that way and she prefers it. If you can’t make teatime, I’d still like to talk.’
‘If I’m detained, I’ll call. Otherwise, expect me.’
‘Before you hang up, Gil…’
‘Yes?’
‘Those two characters we talked about, friends of the friends…’
‘What about them?’
‘They’re here in Bangkok.’
‘I know.’
‘The Drug Enforcement Authority and the Thai police have them both under surveillance. Your poolside meeting with Cubeddu was noted. I thought you should know.’
‘Thanks for the information.’
‘There’s more, but it will keep. Ciao for now!’
Before I had time to digest that little morsel, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to confront Carl Leibig and Sir Pavel Laszlo. Leibig looked worried, Laszlo was furious. Before he was even seated, he launched into a tirade.
‘We’re not even at the end of day one and already the bastards are trying to screw us. I thought we were coming here to conclude an agreement. Now they want to tear up the position papers and start again!’
‘Who wants to tear up what position papers?’
‘You tell him, Carl. I’m so bloody angry I could blow a fuse!’
‘Carl?’
‘Before I
start, Gil, let me say I don’t agree entirely with Sir Pavel. I think he’s taking an extreme view. But here’s the problem. You know that an essential feature of the plan is the provision of transport and distribution facilities, so that the present bottlenecks are removed and there is a free flow of essential supplies across the country.’
‘That was the pivot of the plan. Of course I remember it.’
‘Then you’ll also remember that stage one called for the use of “available military transport by road, rail and air”. Check?’
‘Check.’
‘So this afternoon,’ Laszlo thrust himself back into the discussion, ‘not thirty minutes ago, General Popov announces that he has – what did he call it, Carl?’
‘A difficulty of definition.’
‘I said I thought the text was very clear: “available military transport”. Then the sonofabitch started to hedge. He said that what might be available at start-up time could not be quantified even as broadly as we had done in the proposal. There was the problem of the Gulf, the possibility of new demands inside the country itself, the regrouping of troops to maintain order. All that dreck.’
‘It wasn’t all dreck, Pavel. Part of the problem was that he wasn’t explaining himself very clearly.’
‘It was clear enough to me, Carl! I’ve been watching the news. Gorbachev’s being endowed with plenary powers. The military are making noises to show what big fellows they are and how much he’s going to have to pay for their support. I’m sure as my name’s Laszlo that the General’s had a signal from Moscow telling him he can’t make any commitments of military material or, if he can, they’ll all be subject to ad hoc decisions. If I’m right, this whole thing’s a futile and expensive exercise. The sooner we’re out of it the better.’
Now that he had run out of steam, I was able to question him. ‘Who else was at the meeting?’
‘Tanya the interpreter. Two Japanese from Tanaka’s staff, Carl’s assistant Franz, who was an observer only, and me.’
‘Vannikov wasn’t there?’
‘He was with me,’ Carl Leibig interposed. ‘We were sitting with the finance committee.’
‘Did you meet any similar obstructions in that committee?’
‘Obstructions, no. Vannikov is much more subtle and experienced than Popov. Much more good-humoured, too. But yes, we were getting what I would call reservations and equivocations. My reading is different from Pavel’s. I think Vannikov and his people are highly embarrassed by what’s going on in Moscow. Gorbachev will have an enormous concentration of constitutional power in his hands. The real question is how he can or will use it. Vannikov can’t answer the question so, like a good negotiator, he’s playing for time.’
‘What does Tanaka say about all this?’
‘Nothing!’ Laszlo was angry about that, too. ‘He’s out of communication until our meeting this evening. I don’t have this kind of time to waste. I’ve got a worldwide business to run and the crisis in the Gulf isn’t making that one any easier. You’re the mediator, Gil. What do you suggest?’
‘Leave it to me for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll talk to the General and to Vannikov. I’m also taking tea with Max Wylie, who just happens to show up here – on vacation, he says. He wants to talk. I think we need whatever input we can get. But let’s not be too hasty. We’re still only at day one.’
‘By me,’ said Pavel Laszlo, ‘we’re at five minutes to midnight. What did Churchill say? “The first casualty in war is truth.” I think, right now, we’re keeping the deathwatch. I could use a cup of coffee.’
‘We’ll have it in my room,’ said Carl Leibig. ‘Gil has calls to make.’
Fifteen minutes later I was closeted with Vannikov and the General. There was fresh coffee on the table and vodka and ice conspicuous on the bar. Our talk was in Russian, so that there could be no possible misunderstanding or equivocation. I tackled the General first. I set out for him Laszlo’s impression of their meeting and Leibig’s more mildly framed reservations. I explained carefully.
‘This is where I come in: to make sure that each party fully understands the other. So, can you clarify your position on the use of military transport facilities?’
‘It’s so simple a child can understand it. ‘ Popov was almost as angry as Laszlo. ‘The whole country’s in a state of confusion. There’s a war looming up in the Gulf. We’ve got more than half a million troops still outside the country, in East Germany, in Czechoslovakia, Poland. There’s no way we can make promises about the diversion of transport facilities for civilian use, now or in the foreseeable future.’
‘According to the documents, General, the assurance had already been given by the president and the presidential council. This whole operation was predicated on that assurance.’
‘Which was quite premature and should not have been given.’
‘Has it been countermanded?’
‘Yes.’
‘By whom?’
‘By my military superiors.’
‘Whose orders outweigh those of the President and his council?’
‘I have to assume that they have the approval of the President.’
‘Was the order conveyed to you in writing?’
‘Yes.’
‘May I see the document?’
‘No.’
I turned then to Boris Vannikov. ‘Have you seen it, Boris?’
‘I have.’
‘Does it over-ride the authorities you have been given to bring this conference to a successful conclusion?’
‘In my present view, it does not. I am seeking immediate clarification from Moscow.’
‘Does this mean that you and General Popov are in conflict on the issue?’
‘For the present, no.’
‘General?’
‘Same answer. For the present, we are not in conflict.’
‘But, believe me, you are in conflict with one of the key commercial figures in this conference. He’s prepared to walk out unless he can see some sense in your position. Look at it from his point of view – which, by the way, is very clearly expressed in the proposals – that this project cannot work without a complete reform of your internal transport systems. At this moment, you can’t afford the rolling stock, the rail extensions, the long-haul carriers, the big transport aircraft. You’re out of funds. So the plan envisaged an economical use of available resources. Now, unless that position has changed overnight, you’re painting yourselves into a corner. If we lose Laszlo, it’s your loss, too, a big loss. So what can you give me to take back, to keep the position open?’
Vannikov and the General looked at each other. Vannikov made a gesture, ceding the floor to Popov, who hesitated for a moment, then made a grudging concession.
‘Sometimes you have to walk a long way to get fresh eggs. In theory, Boris can appeal directly to Gorbachev and have him countermand the orders I’ve been given. But now is not the time to do that. He’s just been given a whole sack of new powers – but he’s also been refused some. He doesn’t want a head-on collision with the military. We believe the best move is what we’re doing now: spinning out time, saying don’t let’s kill the goose that lays golden eggs. Laszlo, of all people, should understand that.’
‘He does. But he also knows how the bureaucracy can kill the best of men by slow suffocation. He’s not prepared to take that. He doesn’t have to. Are you prepared to talk this through with him outside the committee?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Boris?’
‘I don’t think I should intervene in that discussion. But I’m all in favour of a quick resolution.’
‘Le me call Laszlo now.’
Two minutes later, General Popov marched himself out to a rendezvous in Laszlo’s suite, leaving me to a private dialogue with Boris Vannikov. He let out a long sigh of relief.
‘Thank God that’s over. There was a moment this afternoon when I thought he was digging in for another siege of Leningrad. This is one of the biggest problems we’ve
got, Gil. We can’t imagine life without the bureaucracy and the echelons of power.’
‘Let’s be frank. Carl Leibig has the impression that you yourself are falling victim to the same syndrome.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He used the word “equivocation”.
Vannikov grinned and spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘What can I say, Gil? I’m improvising to gain some time. There’s no substantial change in our position, but there are a hell of a lot of changes going on in Moscow every day. Even to get two words with the President is a major exercise. Besides, for all its importance, this project is medium- to long-term. All that anybody in Moscow cares is that we’re here and we’re working. The farthest ahead they’re thinking is tomorrow or next week. I know that’s not very satisfactory to the investors.’
‘That’s putting it mildly, Boris. In any terms, you’re high-risk investment. And the money-men are very short on patience. Laszlo’s right. In the Gulf it’s five minutes to midnight. Once the hour strikes, the coach turns into a pumpkin and the horses into white mice.’
‘I’d settle for that,’ said Vannikov with grim humour. ‘A little girl-mouse and a warm nest in a deep cellar. I’m getting very tired of humans.’
I confess I was getting tired of them myself. There was a sour irony in the fact that, while I was, to say the least, over-equipped for human commerce across the planet, I was conscious of a growing hunger for the quieter byways of a scholar’s life. I remembered that my father had suffered from the same dichotomy.
When he was in sociable mood, there was no more rumbustious chaser of picaresque company, in tavern or beer-hall or public square. His wit was dazzling, his eloquence overpowering in any language. When I protested, as I sometimes did, about the clamour and the lack of privacy, he would declaim old Samuel Johnson’s damnation of the loner: ‘Solitude is dangerous to reason without being favourable to virtue.’ And then, with special emphasis: ‘Remember that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, possibly superstitious and probably mad!’ In his moments of remorse, however, he would, with an air of tired wisdom, proclaim the Jeremiad: ‘Quis dabit me in solitudine diversorium viatorum’, Who will offer me a wayfarer’s resting-place in the wilderness so that I may go out from my people and be quit of them. Then he would give his big belly laugh and confess, ‘The truth, boy, the truth: when I’m alone I bore myself to tears. When I’m in company I can’t wait to get back to me.’