Target Churchill

Chapter 27

Maclean chuckled as he read the story Benson had written in the Washington Star. Hardly a scoop, it hadn’t even made it into the larger story above the fold. But then, as news stories went, it was already three days after the event — meaning, old news.

He read it over again and then aloud to himself:

The aftermath was now in play, and from Maclean’s perspective, it was delicious. He looked at the mimeographed sheet, which he had had the information people at the embassy prepare. It contained many of the choice comments in the press, almost all negative.

Among the postings were what Maclean considered “juicy little facts,” which he had encouraged to be included. Items such as the information that sometime after the speech, Truman had telegraphed Premier Stalin and invited him to come to America and deliver his side of the story to the same forum at Westminster College.

Truman had even offered the battleship Missouri to bring him to America. Maclean and Boris had had a good laugh over that one. Of course, Stalin had refused, and he was quoted in Pravda as saying “the speech was a pack of lies.”

In New York, the widow of President Franklin Roosevelt denounced Churchill as a “warmonger” and in the nation’s capital, three senators, including Claude Pepper, termed the Fulton address “shocking.”

The New York Times had questioned Churchill’s “dangerous lack of judgment.” In Britain, the London Times criticized Churchill’s harsh description of the Communist governments, saying “the Western democracies have much to learn from Communism in the working of political institutions and the establishment of individual rights and in the development of economic and social planning.”

Pearl Buck, one of America’s most important writers and a Nobel laureate, told an audience that the world was “nearer war tonight than we were last night.”

To add insult to injury for Churchill, the “iron curtain” reference was not in the advanced text and many newspapers did not carry it. Nevertheless, an alert reporter from The Washington Post had caught the reference, and it became a sidebar to the story. The most dramatic mention was not even preserved for posterity as a filmed image. The only newsreel camera failed at exactly the moment it was first mentioned.

Maclean reveled in the criticism and mishaps. Although there was some praise for the speech in very conservative circles, the overwhelming opinion of it was negative. A dark thought intruded: If his speculation had been correct and Churchill was harmed in any way, the results for his side would be decidedly negative. The speech had inflicted far more harm on Churchill’s position than on Maclean’s own.

The outcome was surely a debacle for the former prime minister. The Allies were weary of war and the timing and content of Churchill’s speech was, in his opinion, merely an exercise in pique, ego, and narcissism.

He kept a particularly amusing cartoon in his top desk drawer. Opening it, he looked at it again. It featured a tired “John Q. Public” sitting on a curbstone in Fulton amid the swirl of abandoned decorations and pennants. Underneath was the caption borrowed from a Kipling poem: “The Captains and the Kings departed.”

He was relieved. Everything was going swimmingly. Before the speech, Maclean had been quite worried that the Russians might overreact to Churchill’s potential remarks and take drastic action. In his meeting with Boris, he had urged him to press his superiors to stay calm. Churchill was Churchill, a born gadfly, a Cassandra with a cigar, out of office and powerless, which did not mean they could cavalierly shirk off his words of warning, but any punitive action against him would be counterproductive at this juncture.

True, he was able to cut a wide swath with his raging about so-called Russian duplicity and danger. Giving the devil his due, he had the ability to gain worldwide attention for his views. Unfortunately, he was on the wrong side of history.

Iron curtain, Maclean mused. He must have put that in as an afterthought. Great image, but then Churchill was the consummate wordsmith.

He was ready to put aside the incident of the so-called security breach. The source of Benson’s inquiry about the speech would remain a mystery. Perhaps, as Boris had suggested, he was merely fishing, using the age-old journalist’s ploy. Thankfully, the issue had blown over. Another potential disaster had been diverted. Nothing was perfect in this business. It would not be amiss to speculate that others might have their eyes and ears trained on the Russians. Perhaps their communications systems were not totally secure. For Maclean, the important issue was to deflect any suspicion from him. Indeed, he decided, his handling of this situation was brilliant and well worth a self-congratulatory pat on the back.

Churchill had finally left the embassy — much to the relief of the ambassador — and was heading up to Hyde Park to pay his respects at the grave of Franklin Roosevelt. He had not attended Roosevelt’s funeral, an act that Maclean had suggested to the Russians was an indication that the wartime friendship between Roosevelt and Churchill had hit rocky times.

Victoria had returned to work after a few days’ rest. She was oddly muted, perhaps still tired, which might have explained her standoffish attitude. Nevertheless, he respected her feelings and desisted from any overt sexual moves. He could not imagine her as the source of Benson’s alleged information.

“I missed you awfully, darling,” he told her.

“And I missed you.”

They had embraced and he did detect an odd coldness. He did not pry. By the time her first day back was over, he knew she was privy to the various security stirrings that he had set in motion. Secretaries reveled in gossip. At the end of the day, they sat together in his office, drinks in hand.

“It was a fascinating experience,” she told him. “One I will treasure all of my life. Mr. Churchill is a most amazing man. His speech was beautifully delivered.”

“I thought so, too, darling.”

He paused and smiled.

“Apparently, the Russians had an advance copy, not exactly worth a big security brouhaha, but worrisome.”

“Yes, I heard the secretaries talking,” Victoria acknowledged, turning her eyes away.

“In an odd way, I’m glad they did. What Churchill had to say did not come as a surprise to them. In my opinion, if there was a security breach, it was at their end, not ours. What I mean to say is,” Maclean continued, “I wouldn’t call their getting the speech much of a security breach. I’d say it was an excellent idea, a diplomatic courtesy. The problem for me was they quite obviously couldn’t be trusted.”

Observing her, he noted a sudden flush on her cheeks, and she broke out in a broad smile.

“Wonderful,” she blurted.

Her comment confused him.

“Wonderful?”

She was flustered.

“What I meant was that his speech was very courageous. Considering it was against the tide… you know what I mean.”

She put her drink down and moved closer to him. Her sense of psychic distance seemed to be disappearing.

“I think I do,” he replied.

“What I mean, darling, is that his speech took great courage, considering the present climate.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Do you think he was right? About the Russians, the iron curtain, the fifth column?”

He was baffled. She had not shown much keen interest in such matters before her Churchill assignment.

“He was indeed, despite the negative reaction,” he said gravely. “But in one way, it was salutary.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The assignment has inspired your interest in world affairs.”

She nodded and laughed.

“It is not my principal interest, my darling.”

She moved closer, and he enveloped his arms around her.

“I did miss this,” he said, kissing her hard on the mouth and cupping her breasts.

“I am so happy,” she whispered.

He noted that her eyes welled up.