Fortunes of War by Stephen Coonts Read Free Book Online

ambassador to a big country.
    For years, he listened to windy speeches, shook hands, wrote checks,and watched the political hopefuls come and go. By the time he had eight dealerships, he was giving to political parties in a six-figure way. Finally, he was rewarded with an ambassadorship.
    Stanley P. had never forgotten the conversation when one of the members of the new president’s transition team called him about the position.
    â€œThe president-elect would like to send your name to the Senate. Mr. Hanratty, he wants you on his team .”
    â€œGuinea-Bis what? How did you say that?”
    â€œBissau. It’s in Africa, I think.”
    â€œNorth or south of the equator?”
    â€œWell, sir, I don’t know. I seem to recall that it’s on the west side of the continent, but don’t hold me to that.”
    Through the years, Stanley P. had invested a lot of money in his quest, so he didn’t hesitate. With feeling, he said, “You tell the president-elect that I’m honored he thought of me. I’ll be delighted to serve his administration anywhere he wants.”
    After he hung up the telephone, he looked the place up in an atlas.
    U.S. ambassador to Guinea-Bissau!
    In Guinea-Bissau, Hanratty did more than luxuriate in the ambassador’s quarters of the embassy, which in truth were not all that luxurious; he studiously applied himself to learning the business of diplomacy. He attacked the State Department’s paper-flow charts and the ins and outs of Bissauan politics with the same common sense, drive, and determination that he used to sell cars. He made shrewd evaluations of local politicians and wrote clear, concise, accurate reports. He didn’t once blame conditions in Guinea-Bissau on United States foreign policy, an attitude that State Department professionals found both unusual and refreshing. He also proved to have an extraordinary quality that endeared him to policy makers in Washington: if given instructions, he followed them to the letter.
    After he correctly predicted that a military coup would occur in Guinea-Bissau if a certain person won an election, Hanratty was named ambassador to a nation in the Middle East endangered by fundamentalist Islamic zealots. He performed superbly there, too, so when the U.S. ambassador to Japan dropped dead of a heart attack, the secretary of state was relieved that he could send Stanley P. Hanratty to the American embassy in Tokyo.
    Hanratty had been in Tokyo for thirteen months when the emperor was assassinated. During his habitual sixteen-hour workdays, he hadbecome expert in the myriad aspects of U.S.-Japanese relations and made many friends in key places. This evening, just hours after the emperor’s murder, with the world still in shock, he was sitting in his office with the television on, putting the finishing touches on a private letter to the secretary of state, when he heard the knocking on the door.
    â€œCome in,” he called loudly, because the doors were thick and heavy.
    â€œMr. Ambassador, I wonder if I might have a few moments of your time?”
    â€œColonel Cassidy, please come in.”
    Stanley P. liked the Air Force attaché, who occasionally dropped by to inform him firsthand of developments in the Japanese military that he would eventually read about weeks later in secret CIA summaries. The senior CIA officer, on the other hand, never told him anything. It was almost as if that gentleman thought the ambassador couldn’t be trusted with sensitive information, which frosted Stanley P. a little.
    â€œIt’s been a long day, Colonel. How about a drink?”
    â€œThank you, sir. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
    Stanley P. removed a bottle of bourbon and two glasses from his lower desk drawer. He poured a shot in each glass and passed one to Cassidy.
    â€œI’ve been speculating, Colonel. Speculating with no information. Speculate with me a little.”
    Cassidy