remained, he hoped, poker-faced. “No. You weren’t on the list. I guess you know Caroline Sanford.”
Cuneo nodded. “I even went to Saint-Cloud-le-Duc last year. What a place!”
“I’ve never seen it.” There were definitely two quite separate Carolines. He had known the American one intimately; had never met the French one.
“It was a perfect day. She’d invited Léon Blum, at my request, and he arrived with André Gide. It was certainly an educational day for me. I only wish Blum were still in charge over there in France. He’s got Hitler’s number. The others don’t—or they do but they think they can handle him, which they can’t. What can I do for you, sir?”
Tim produced his White House list of names. He read them off to Cuneo, who told him, briefly, even sharply, who was worth talking to and why. Tim made notes. The chipped beef came. The whole room now smelled of roast coffee and cigarette smoke. The steady murmur of masculine voices was like a distant thunder.
“I’ve pretty much finished with the isolationists.”
“Lucky you got Borah back in November. He’s dying as we speak.” Tim noted that Cuneo was never tentative. He never said “I hear that” or “They say.” He simply made flat statements. “Once he’s dead you might try to find out if he took cash from the German government. We know he did. From several sources. But we have no proof so far. No safety box full of cash. I have some leads if you’re interested.”
“Since he’s always been an isolationist, why would he take money to do what he’d have done anyway?”
“This is Washington, Tim. Are any of Mrs. R’s Youth Congress kids on your list?”
“One. But I haven’t seen him.”
“I wouldn’t. Not now. They’re too mixed up with the communists, which means Russia. So they’ll be pro-Hitler for the next few months until Hitler double-crosses Stalin and starts his invasion of Russia and then Mrs. R’s kids will all have to switch again.”
Tim was doing his best to absorb so many mind-boggling revelations. “Hitler, having just signed a pact with Russia, now plans to invade Russia?”
“In the zoo, study your beast. Haven’t you read his book,
Mein Kampf
? It’s all in there. He gives the whole game away. But hardly anyone has ever got through the book, while the few who have read it never take him seriously. He tells just how he plans to carve up Russia. Enslave all the Slavs. Annex the Romanian oil fields, which he really needs. Get rid of all the Jews …”
“How?”
“However he can. He’s been selling a lot of German Jews to the West. But we’re not taking in as many as we should. I fear the worst. But people think I’m an alarmist to be alarmed by what is so plain to see. Anyway, thanks to some nice undercover work, Hitler won’t be invading Russia this summer as originally planned. He hadn’t figured on England and France going to war over Poland, so he’ll have to defeat them first. Then he’ll go after the real prize, Eastern Europe.” Again the amused smile. Tim wondered if Cuneo was making fun of him. Since September 1939 many scenarios had been prepared by various pundits but no one had yet sounded as positive, if not plausible, as this pudgy bald man who seemed to know everything as well as everyone.
“You don’t think England and France can beat Hitler in a fighting war?”
“No. England’s too small. England’s also broke. France is weak.
With Blum they might have.… Anyway, let’s not indulge in what-might-have-been stuff. Without our help, money, ships, planes, information”—the last word he gave special emphasis to—“they’ll go down.” Cuneo was no longer smiling. He suddenly looked like the gangster Al Capone. “We need this film of yours to help with public opinion.”
“So that the boys will enlist in the Army and follow Roosevelt into war?” Tim realized that he was being less than cool.
“I know your inclinations are isolationist. Why not?
Cuneo nodded. “I even went to Saint-Cloud-le-Duc last year. What a place!”
“I’ve never seen it.” There were definitely two quite separate Carolines. He had known the American one intimately; had never met the French one.
“It was a perfect day. She’d invited Léon Blum, at my request, and he arrived with André Gide. It was certainly an educational day for me. I only wish Blum were still in charge over there in France. He’s got Hitler’s number. The others don’t—or they do but they think they can handle him, which they can’t. What can I do for you, sir?”
Tim produced his White House list of names. He read them off to Cuneo, who told him, briefly, even sharply, who was worth talking to and why. Tim made notes. The chipped beef came. The whole room now smelled of roast coffee and cigarette smoke. The steady murmur of masculine voices was like a distant thunder.
“I’ve pretty much finished with the isolationists.”
“Lucky you got Borah back in November. He’s dying as we speak.” Tim noted that Cuneo was never tentative. He never said “I hear that” or “They say.” He simply made flat statements. “Once he’s dead you might try to find out if he took cash from the German government. We know he did. From several sources. But we have no proof so far. No safety box full of cash. I have some leads if you’re interested.”
“Since he’s always been an isolationist, why would he take money to do what he’d have done anyway?”
“This is Washington, Tim. Are any of Mrs. R’s Youth Congress kids on your list?”
“One. But I haven’t seen him.”
“I wouldn’t. Not now. They’re too mixed up with the communists, which means Russia. So they’ll be pro-Hitler for the next few months until Hitler double-crosses Stalin and starts his invasion of Russia and then Mrs. R’s kids will all have to switch again.”
Tim was doing his best to absorb so many mind-boggling revelations. “Hitler, having just signed a pact with Russia, now plans to invade Russia?”
“In the zoo, study your beast. Haven’t you read his book,
Mein Kampf
? It’s all in there. He gives the whole game away. But hardly anyone has ever got through the book, while the few who have read it never take him seriously. He tells just how he plans to carve up Russia. Enslave all the Slavs. Annex the Romanian oil fields, which he really needs. Get rid of all the Jews …”
“How?”
“However he can. He’s been selling a lot of German Jews to the West. But we’re not taking in as many as we should. I fear the worst. But people think I’m an alarmist to be alarmed by what is so plain to see. Anyway, thanks to some nice undercover work, Hitler won’t be invading Russia this summer as originally planned. He hadn’t figured on England and France going to war over Poland, so he’ll have to defeat them first. Then he’ll go after the real prize, Eastern Europe.” Again the amused smile. Tim wondered if Cuneo was making fun of him. Since September 1939 many scenarios had been prepared by various pundits but no one had yet sounded as positive, if not plausible, as this pudgy bald man who seemed to know everything as well as everyone.
“You don’t think England and France can beat Hitler in a fighting war?”
“No. England’s too small. England’s also broke. France is weak.
With Blum they might have.… Anyway, let’s not indulge in what-might-have-been stuff. Without our help, money, ships, planes, information”—the last word he gave special emphasis to—“they’ll go down.” Cuneo was no longer smiling. He suddenly looked like the gangster Al Capone. “We need this film of yours to help with public opinion.”
“So that the boys will enlist in the Army and follow Roosevelt into war?” Tim realized that he was being less than cool.
“I know your inclinations are isolationist. Why not?
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