Ten minutes later, the President concluded solemnly "and so for seventy-five years, under the terms set forth, Canada and the United States have unknowingly been existing as two nations while under international law they were only one . . ."
Mercier let out a long sigh. "Thank God, he didn't slap them in the face by saying they belonged to us."
"The future will not look upon us kindly," the President continued, "if we fail to consider the tremendous potential our former leaders have laid before us. We must not stand separate from one another as we have in the past. We must not look upon ourselves as English-Canadian or Anglo-American or French Canadian or Mexican-American. We must all look upon ourselves as simply Americans. Because that's what we are, North Americans . . ."
The ministers of Parliament and the premiers of the provinces reflected varied degrees of emotion. Some sat quietly enraged, some showed thoughtful contemplation, others nodded as though in agreement. It was clear the President was not holding the treaty over their heads like a club. He made no demands or threats. But they never doubted for a moment that the power was there. ". . . our histories are closely entwined, our people strikingly similar in life-styles and outlook. The only fundamental difference between us is a viewpoint toward tradition . . ."
"If the provinces of Canada decide to go separate ways, they face a long and difficult journey that can only end in collision with others. For the good of all, this must not happen. Therefore, I call upon you to join with me in building the mightiest nation on earth . . . the United States of Canada."
In the Senate chamber the applause was mild and scattered after the President's address. The listeners sat numb, unsure of how to take his proposal for a single nation. The unthinkable had at last been brought out in the open.
Mercier sighed and turned off the TV monitor. "Well, it's begun," he said softly.
Oates nodded. "Thank God the treaty got here in time, or we might have witnessed a political disaster."
Instinctively they all turned to voice their thanks to the man who had done so much to incur their debt.
But Dirk Pitt had fallen sound asleep.
The Prime Minister's Rolls braked to a stop before the huge jetliner bearing the presidential seal. Secret Service men exited the cars behind and discreetly placed themselves around the boarding ramp.
Inside, Sarveux leaned forward and unfolded a hurled walnut vanity table from the rear of the front seat.
Then he opened a cabinet, produced a crystal decanter of Seagrams Crown Royal whiskey and poured two small goblets.
"Here's to two old and close friends who have covered a long haul."
"That we have," said the President, with a weary sigh. "If anyone ever found out how you and I secretly worked together all these years to formulate a single-nation concept, we'd both be shot for treason."
Sarveux smiled faintly. "Drummed out of public office perhaps, but surely not shot."
The President thoughtfully sipped the whiskey. "Strange how a casual conversation between a young minister of Parliament and a freshman senator in front of a fireplace at a hunting lodge so many years ago could change the course of history."
"The right time and place for a chance meeting of two men who shared the same dream," said Sarveux, thinking back.
"The merging of the United States and Canada is inevitable. If not in the next two years, then in the next two hundred. You and I simply worked together to advance the timetable."
"I hope we don't live to regret it."
"A unified continent with nearly the population and land mass of the Soviet Union is nothing to regret. It may well prove to be the salvation of both countries."
"The United States of Canada," said Sarveux. "I like the sound."
"How do you read the future?"
"The Maritime Provinces-Newfoundland, Nova Scotia and New brunswick-are now cut off from the rest of Canada by an independent Quebec. They'll see it in their best interests to apply for statehood in the coming months. Manitoba and Saskatchewan will follow. An easy decision for them, because they've always had close ties with your northwestern farm states. Next, my guess is that British Columbia will open negotiations. Then with the Pacific and Atlantic ocean ports gone, the other provinces will gradually fall into line."
"And Quebec?"
"The French will temporarily exult in their independence. But in the cold light of unavoidable economic hardship, they'll come to accept statehood as a pretty good bargain after all."
"And Britain. How will they react?"
"Same as they did with India, South Africa and the other colonies. Bid a reluctant goodbye."
"What are your plans, my friend?"
"I shall run for President of Quebec," Sarveux answered.
"I don't envy you. It will be a hard, dirty fight."
"Yes, but if I win, we win. Quebec will be one step closer to joining the union. And most important, I'll be in a position to guarantee the flow of electrical energy from James Bay and make sure that you are included and benefit from the development of your oil-field discovery in Ungava Bay."
The President set his empty goblet on the vanity table and looked at Sarveux. "I'm sorry about Danielle.
The decision to tell you about her liaison with Henri Villon didn't come easy. I wasn't certain how you'd take it or if you'd even believe me."
"I believed you," said Sarveux sadly. "I believed you because I knew it to be true."
"If only there had been another way."
"There wasn't."
Nothing was left to say. The President opened the car door. Sarveux took hold of his arm and held him back. "One final question must be settled between us," he said.
"Go ahead."
"The North American Treaty. If all else fails, will you force Canada to abide by the terms?"
"Yes," the President replied, and there was a hard glint in his eyes. "There is no turning back now. If I have to, I will not hesitate to enforce the treaty."
It was raining when Heidi limped into the TWA passenger boarding lounge at Kennedy Airport, a drenching New York downpour that tore away leaves and slowed rush-hour traffic to a caterpillar crawl.
She wore her navy uniform under a blue raincoat, and her water-specked hair spilled from below a regulation white cap. She dropped a large shoulder bag to the carpet and, carefully balancing on her good leg, eased into a vacant seat.
After the whirlwind events of the past several weeks, the prospect of returning to the routine of duty depressed her. She had not seen Pitt since he rushed off to Ottawa, and the marines guarding Brian Shaw had refused to let her near him before he was carried unconscious into an ambulance that sped away to a military hospital. In the excitement she had been nearly forgotten. It was only through the thoughtfulness of Admiral Sandecker that she had been driven to New York for a well-deserved sleep at the Plaza Hotel and booked first-class on a flight back to her station in San Diego the following day.
She stared through the window at the rain forming lakes on the runway and reflecting the multicolored lights in two dimensions. If she had been alone she would have allowed herself the indulgence of a good cry. She felt a deep sense of longing as she remembered how Shaw touched her. He had invaded her life and she was resentful now of the love he had taken. But there was no remorse, only annoyance with herself for losing control.
Blind and deaf to the people milling around her, she tried to put her feelings and the shameful actions of the past few weeks from her mind.
"I've seen melancholy creatures before," said a familiar voice beside her, "but, lady, you take the prize."
"Does it show that much?" she asked, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.
"Like a black cloud over a sunset," replied Pitt with his devilish smile. He was dressed in a navy-blue sport jacket with red Breton slacks and wallaby shirt. He looked down at her over a monstrous bouquet of mixed flowers. "You didn't think I was going to let you slink away without saying goodbye?"
"At least somebody
remembered." She felt damp and straggly and tired and hurt and rejected. "Pay no heed if I sound bitchy. This is my night for self-sympathy."
"Maybe these will help." He laid the flowers in her lap. The bouquet was so immense she could hardly see over the top.
"They're gorgeous," said Heidi. "I think I'll cry now."
"Please don't." Pitt laughed softly. "I've always wanted to buy out a flower store for a beautiful girl.
Embarrass me and I may never do it again."
She pulled Pitt down, kissed him on the cheek and fought back the tears. "Thank you, Dirk. You'll always be my dearest friend.
"A friend?" He feigned a hurt look. "Is that the best I can do?"
"Can we ever be anything else to each other?"
"No . . . I suppose not." His face went gentle and he took her hand. "Funny how two people who had so much going for them couldn't find it in their hearts to fall in love."
"In my case, it was because of someone else."
"The fickleness of women," he said. "They fall for the guy who treats them like trash, and yet they wind up marrying John Q. Square."
She avoided his gaze and stared out the window. "We've never learned to deny our feelings."
"Does Shaw love you?"
"I doubt it."
"You love him?"
"I'm not my usual practical self when it comes to Brian. Yes, I love him for all the good it'll do me. We consumed each other. He had his reasons, I had mine. If he wanted me, I'd run to him like a shot. But it'll never happen."
"There comes that sad face again," Pitt said. "I refuse to send a whimpering female on board an airplane.
You leave me no choice but to cheer you up with one of my magic tricks."
Heidi laughed softly through watery eyes. "Since when did you practice magic?"
Pitt took on a mock hurt look. "You've never heard of Magnificent Pitt, the Illusionist?"
"Never."
"All right for you, nonbeliever. Close your eyes."
"You're joking."
"Close your eyes and count to ten." Heidi finally did as she was told. When she opened her eyes, Pitt was gone and Brian Shaw was sitting in his place.
The cry that she had kept bottled away burst from her as she embraced him, and the tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped from her chin.
"I thought you were locked away," she blurted between sobs.
Shaw lifted the folded raincoat that was draped across his lap and revealed the handcuffs. "Pitt arranged for me to come."
She tenderly touched the bandage that showed beneath a tweed cap. "Are you all right?"
"My double vision is almost gone," he answered, smiling.
The airline attendant behind the checkin counter announced that Heidi's plane was ready to board.
"What will happen to you?" she asked, afraid to release him.
"I suspect I'll spend some time in one of your federal prisons."
"Would you think me maudlin if I said I love you?"
"Would you think me a liar if I told you the same?"
"No," she said. And she felt a rush of relief because she knew he wasn't lying.
Shaw said, "I promise you that someday we'll be together."
That part could never be true. It tore painfully, deep in her chest. She pulled away. "I must go," she whispered.
He read the hurt in her eyes and understood. He lifted her up and onto the crutches. A helpful flight attendant came over and took Heidi's travel bag and the flowers.
"Goodbye, Heidi."
She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Goodbye."
After Heidi had disappeared through the boarding gate, Pitt walked up and stood beside Shaw.
"An awfully good woman," he said. "Be a shame to lose her."
"A good woman," Shaw agreed wistfully.
"If you don't hurry, she'll leave without you."
Shaw looked at him. "What are you talking about?"
Pitt shoved a packet in Shaw's breast pocket. "Your boarding pass and ticket. I fixed it so you have adjoining seats."
"But I'm under arrest as an enemy agent," said Shaw, his thoughts at a loss.
"The President owes me a favor." Pitt shrugged.
"Does he know what you're doing?"
"Not yet."
Shaw shook his head. "You're asking for trouble, setting me loose."
"I've been there before." Pitt held out his hand. "Don't forget, you promised me a backgammon lesson."
Shaw shook with both his hands. Then he held them up, displaying the steel bracelets. "Most aggravating, these things."
"Picking the lock should be child's play for a secret agent."
Shaw made a series of movements under the raincoat. Then he held up the cuffs, his hands free. "I'm a bit rusty. I used to do it much faster."
"James Bond would have been proud of you," Pitt said dryly.
"Bond?"
"Yes, I hear you two were quite close."
Shaw exhaled, his breath in a long sigh. "He exists only in fiction."
"Does he?"
Shaw shrugged, then stared at Pitt for a long moment. "Why are you doing this after the pain I've caused Heidi?"
"She loves you," Pitt said simply.
"What do you get out of it?"
"Nothing that will add to my bank account."
"Then why?"
"I enjoy doing things out of the ordinary."
Before Shaw could reply, Pitt had turned and mixed into the flowing crowd on the concourse.
The rain had stopped, and Pitt put down the Cobra's convertible top. He drove toward the lights of Manhattan that glowed ghostlike against the low-hanging clouds. The breeze whipped his hair, and he deeply inhaled the sweet fragrance of wet grass that rose from the fields beside the highway.
Pitt tightened his grip on the wheel, pressed the accelerator to the floor and watched the tachometer needle as it crept slowly into the red.
Clive Cussler, Night Probe!
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