Read Online ReUNION: What if the Civil War had never happened? by Harvey Ardman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Harvey Ardman
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spoke, his voice was like ice.
" Practically isn't good enough, Carlos. I need to be absolutely
certain. Tell me you are absolutely certain ."
Espinosa wiped his upper lip again and swallowed hard enough to make his Adam's
apple bounce. "Yes, Presidente , I am certain"
" Absolutely certain."
"Yes. Absolutely certain."
"Good," Garcia said, throwing up his hands in a gesture of
satisfaction. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Espinosa shook his head in the negative.
"We do have one problem," Hererra said. "We must find a way to
do this that doesn't make us look like vultures."
Garcia grinned. "But we are vultures, Hector. Are we not?"
"We are. But I don't want the world to think of us that way."
Garcia shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Neither do I. But the
strong swallow the weak. It is a law of nature."
Hererra nodded. "Of course, but we must give the rest of the world an
acceptable reason to forgive our aggression. If we do not, the League of Nations might condemn us and public opinion
might force our trading partners to boycott us. We might even face economic
sanctions."
Garcia was sitting up straight again, and frowning. "What can we do? The
truth will be obvious."
"We can make the Confederacy seem like the aggressor," Hererra
suggested. "We can make our invasion look like justified
retaliation."
"Will anyone really believe that?" Garcia asked.
"Probably not. But they will find it convenient to say that they do."
Garcia considered the idea. "And just how will we do this, Hector?"
Espinosa spoke up. "An incident in the Gulf would do it. An 'unprovoked'
attack on one of our ships."
"You see," Hererra said to Garcia. "It is a simple matter."
"Tell me more," Garcia instructed General Espinosa.
"We send an oil tanker into the Gulf, blow a hole in it, get on the radio
and say we've been attacked by a CSA warship, then let the tanker sink. All
aboard lost—50 men, let's say. And a huge oil spill."
"We kill 50 men?" Garcia asked.
"Of course not. We have only a couple of men aboard and they get away
before the bomb goes off."
"I see," said Garcia. "Then we make a lot of noise about
Confederate aggression, demand restitution, even territorial concessions. And
Bourque will refuse and deny everything."
Espinosa grinned. "Yes, exactly. Then we stage another fake attack. When
Bourque denies that one too, or his illness becomes public, that's when we
strike."
Garcia exchanged glances with Hererra. "What do you think, Hector?"
"I think we have to be careful not to be caught," Hererra said.
"But if we can pull it off, no one will protest our, um,
retaliation."
"Set it up, General Espinosa. Make it foolproof."
Chapter Four
When Callaway got to his private office at 7:30 the next morning, a slim, loose-leaf
binder was sitting smack in the middle of his desk. Someone had written
"CSA polling data" on it, in longhand.
He opened the binder and slowly started leafing through it. A few minutes
later, Eric Wang walked into the room, an identical binder under his arm.
"'Morning, Boss. Find anything surprising there?"
"Hey, Eric. No, it's about what I expected—our people aren't terribly fond
of President Bourque and his country. He gets a 27% approval rating from
NAU residents. And the Confederacy doesn't do much better—32%."
"Well, there's a lot to dislike," Wang said. "The segregation,
the terrible schools, border, the overpowering religiosity…"
Callaway held up a hand to stop him. "Yeah, I know, I know, grits, country
music and red necks. But looking down on the CSA is a pretty cheap way to feel
superior."
"Nevertheless, it's a goddamned national sport. Has been for as long as I
can remember."
"I know." Callaway acknowledged. "But it does us no
credit."
Wang wasn't finished. He opened his binder. "Just look at this—'Favors
increased trade with the CSA: 11%. Favors increased cultural exchanges: 9%.'
Sounds to me like we don't want any part of them."
"I take it you'd like me to turn down Bourque's offer to
" Practically isn't good enough, Carlos. I need to be absolutely
certain. Tell me you are absolutely certain ."
Espinosa wiped his upper lip again and swallowed hard enough to make his Adam's
apple bounce. "Yes, Presidente , I am certain"
" Absolutely certain."
"Yes. Absolutely certain."
"Good," Garcia said, throwing up his hands in a gesture of
satisfaction. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
Espinosa shook his head in the negative.
"We do have one problem," Hererra said. "We must find a way to
do this that doesn't make us look like vultures."
Garcia grinned. "But we are vultures, Hector. Are we not?"
"We are. But I don't want the world to think of us that way."
Garcia shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Neither do I. But the
strong swallow the weak. It is a law of nature."
Hererra nodded. "Of course, but we must give the rest of the world an
acceptable reason to forgive our aggression. If we do not, the League of Nations might condemn us and public opinion
might force our trading partners to boycott us. We might even face economic
sanctions."
Garcia was sitting up straight again, and frowning. "What can we do? The
truth will be obvious."
"We can make the Confederacy seem like the aggressor," Hererra
suggested. "We can make our invasion look like justified
retaliation."
"Will anyone really believe that?" Garcia asked.
"Probably not. But they will find it convenient to say that they do."
Garcia considered the idea. "And just how will we do this, Hector?"
Espinosa spoke up. "An incident in the Gulf would do it. An 'unprovoked'
attack on one of our ships."
"You see," Hererra said to Garcia. "It is a simple matter."
"Tell me more," Garcia instructed General Espinosa.
"We send an oil tanker into the Gulf, blow a hole in it, get on the radio
and say we've been attacked by a CSA warship, then let the tanker sink. All
aboard lost—50 men, let's say. And a huge oil spill."
"We kill 50 men?" Garcia asked.
"Of course not. We have only a couple of men aboard and they get away
before the bomb goes off."
"I see," said Garcia. "Then we make a lot of noise about
Confederate aggression, demand restitution, even territorial concessions. And
Bourque will refuse and deny everything."
Espinosa grinned. "Yes, exactly. Then we stage another fake attack. When
Bourque denies that one too, or his illness becomes public, that's when we
strike."
Garcia exchanged glances with Hererra. "What do you think, Hector?"
"I think we have to be careful not to be caught," Hererra said.
"But if we can pull it off, no one will protest our, um,
retaliation."
"Set it up, General Espinosa. Make it foolproof."
Chapter Four
When Callaway got to his private office at 7:30 the next morning, a slim, loose-leaf
binder was sitting smack in the middle of his desk. Someone had written
"CSA polling data" on it, in longhand.
He opened the binder and slowly started leafing through it. A few minutes
later, Eric Wang walked into the room, an identical binder under his arm.
"'Morning, Boss. Find anything surprising there?"
"Hey, Eric. No, it's about what I expected—our people aren't terribly fond
of President Bourque and his country. He gets a 27% approval rating from
NAU residents. And the Confederacy doesn't do much better—32%."
"Well, there's a lot to dislike," Wang said. "The segregation,
the terrible schools, border, the overpowering religiosity…"
Callaway held up a hand to stop him. "Yeah, I know, I know, grits, country
music and red necks. But looking down on the CSA is a pretty cheap way to feel
superior."
"Nevertheless, it's a goddamned national sport. Has been for as long as I
can remember."
"I know." Callaway acknowledged. "But it does us no
credit."
Wang wasn't finished. He opened his binder. "Just look at this—'Favors
increased trade with the CSA: 11%. Favors increased cultural exchanges: 9%.'
Sounds to me like we don't want any part of them."
"I take it you'd like me to turn down Bourque's offer to
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