Chapter Two Thousand Four Hundred Twenty-One
2nd December 1975
Washington D.C.
“What does this say about the relations between Russia and Germany?” Nixon asked.
“That is a matter of perspective Sir” The expert replied, “On one hand the Russians being closely allied with the Greeks gives them the wider access to the world that they have wanted for centuries. They are neck deep in the Turkish mess because of that. On the other hand, the Germans have a mutual defense treaty with Ukraine and the Ukrainians have been doing their level best to be a thorn in the Russian’s side for the last few decades. They are still angry about the famine during the Soviet War. There is also the Romanians who are hoping to have Friedrich the IV’s younger brother marry their King’s oldest daughter, which could radically change the regional balance.”
That was exactly the sort of wordy answer/non-answer that Nixon had come to hate since he had assumed office. The man was a foreign policy expert, in theory, but he had just used a lot of words to tell Nixon things he already knew. The Greeks and Turks had hated each other since time out of mind, the Ukrainians hated the Russians because of what the Soviets had done to them in the 30’s and 40’s. Even Nixon knew that it only took mere mention of the second Holodomor to cause people in Ukraine and Belarus to fly into a rage. Of course, it was not in the least bit surprising that the German Empire was pursuing their interests on shores of the Black Sea. They had interests damn near everywhere else.
“Harry Truman once asked to speak with a one-armed economist” Nixon said, and the expert frowned.
“What the President is trying to say is that he appreciates your efforts” One of Nixon’s aides said, much to his annoyance. He was tired of the so-called experts whose knowledge would be known to anyone who might be bothered to open a newspaper or two.
“Thank you, Sir” The expert said through gritted teeth. What exactly had he been expecting?
Mercifully, that was when the door swung up and Nixon saw Frank Church and Patrick V. Murphy were waiting. Church, he had a look on his face that was reminiscent of the cat that had just eaten the canary. Having been the Commissioner of the New York Police Department, Murphy was almost impossible to read.
Because of the Aleshire scandal, the FBI and CIA had ended up with egg on their face. Both the Agency and the Bureau had been excoriated by the press over what had happened right under their noses for years. Murphy and Church had been appointed because they had the reputation of being reformers and had set about cleaning house. That was something that was long overdue if a cuckoo like John Aleshire could remain undetected for decades. They were still trying to reckon with the actual damage that Aleshire had done, a task which had proven surprising difficult mostly because Aleshire himself had refused to cooperate.
“If you could excuse us” Nixon said to the Foreign Policy expert who was looking to leave anyway. Nixon turned and looked out the windows of the Oval Office as the man left the room. The thick, bulletproof glass distorted the view. It was as perfect a metaphor for the situation which Nixon found himself in as he could have found anywhere. Not that there was much to see today. It was a grey afternoon, not particularly cold though with it being in the low fifties. Pat had told him over the phone that it was in the mid-sixties and raining in Southern California that morning. She thought that was cold. He had told her that she ought to take a look at the weather reports on the East Coast and she just laughed, Pat said that she would come back to DC that spring, but if it got too hot like it had last summer she was on the first plane out. Nixon knew that she was joking, she was flying back next week, and the plan was to spend Christmas with the girls at Camp David.
With a heavy sigh, Nixon looked back to Church and Murphy. He noticed that the room had been cleared. Whatever this was, it was clearly “Need-to-know” and anyone who didn’t need to know had been asked to leave. Too often, things discussed in the White House found their way into the pages of the Washington Post or New York Times if they failed to control the flow of information. The fact that it involved the Directors of America’s Intelligence and Counterintelligence together in the same room spoke volumes. Normally, the CIA and FBI ignored each other at best.
“So, what do you have for us Frank?” Nixon asked. Guessing that the CIA Director was the reason for this meeting.
“Our friend in Berlin came through” Church said handing Nixon a folder. Opening it, he saw a typewritten page with several names on it.
“I see” Nixon replied.
“We can roll this whole thing up” Church said excitedly. If this really was what Church thought it was, then this was a major coup by the CIA. “We need to act on this.”
That was when a thought came creeping from the back of Nixon’s mind. It was early December, the absolute doldrums of the election cycle with the next election almost a year away. The timing for such a victory was terrible. If that was how it worked out.
“Actually, we don’t” Nixon replied.
“Excuse me, Sir?” Church asked.
“As Director Murphy can tell you, getting information from an informant is just the beginning of the investigation” Nixon said, “We need to find out who these people know, their contacts, the network. Then we can roll the whole thing up.”
We can also make damned certain that the Germans were not playing them as saps again, Nixon left unsaid. That had happened too often in the past.
Church’s face fell as Murphy had a slight smile. Obviously, Church had been hoping to get the lion’s share of the credit. Nixon had just put the ball in Murphy’s court.
