ReUNION: What if the Civil War had never happened? by Harvey Ardman Read Free Book Online

want?"
    "He wouldn't say," Wang said. "Except that he wanted to see
you."
    Callaway sighed. There was no getting out of it. "I assume he's been
through the magnetometer."
    "And a full body scan," Wang assured him.
    "What's his name?"
    "Roy Pickett."
    "Never heard of him."
    "He's a long-time Bourque associate, but his role isn't exactly clear.
Some say he's Bourque's body man, others say he's a close advisor. By the way,
he’s a Black man.”
    "Hmmm." Callaway checked his watch. "Well, since the British
Ambassador canceled, I do have a few minutes. Might as well hear what he
has to say. Where is he now?"
    "Reception."
    "Well, go get him. Bring him to the Oval office."
    "Make it your private office, Mr. President," Wang said. "This
isn't a state occasion."
    "Ok. Make it happen, Eric."
     
    President Callaway was standing at a bookshelf in his private office when Eric
Wang walked in with Roy Pickett. The two men stood face to face, taking
the measure of each other, both Black, handsome, about the same height, dressed
well—one face world-famous, the other unknown. They shook hands rather
formally.
    "Mr. Pickett," acknowledged the President.
    "Mr. President," Pickett responded.
    "What can I do for you?"
    Pickett wasn't ready to say. He was drinking in his surroundings. "Very
impressive, all this," he said, with a little wave of his hand. "A
lot of people in my country would be amazed to see it—I mean, a Black man
occupying a very powerful office, surrounded by all the trappings, with platoons
of white men ready to do his bidding."
    Callaway, as usual, fielded the remark deftly. "A couple of years ago, I
would have had trouble imaging it myself."
    "Our countries are very different," Wang observed rather sharply.
    "Can't argue with that," Pickett admitted.
    "I must say, Mr. Pickett, when I heard that we had a visitor—an emissary
from President Bourque—you were not what I pictured,” Callaway said.
    Pickett laughed. "You expected a weather-beaten cracker with straw
in his hair?"
    "Not exactly," Callaway said. "But not a young Black man
either."
    "Yes, I can understand that," Pickett said. "Not a lot of Black
people in the Confederacy’s political establishment.”
    Wang looked at Pickett curiously. "No. Except, evidently, for you."
    "Yes, except for me. President Bourque and I go way back. I'm kind of a
special case." He turned slightly and took a closer look at a bookshelf.
Callaway and Wang exchanged glances.
    Callaway took a book out of the shelf and handed it to Pickett. "This
volume comes from John Adams’ personal library," he said.
    "John Adams," Pickett said. "You know, he's a part of our
history too. President Bourque sometimes speaks of him."
    "Yes," Callaway said. "We have a lot of history in common. Why
don't you take that, as a gift for President Bourque? That's ok, isn't it
Eric?"
    "I doubt it," Wang said. "But you can probably get away with
it."
    "Thank you very much," Pickett said.
    "Mr. Pickett," Wang continued, "You're here because President
Bourque wants something from us. Would you be kind enough to tell us what that
might be?"
    " President Callaway, President Bourque would like to arrange a
face-to-face meeting with you. A confidential meeting."
    "A meeting?" Wang asked, "A summit?"
    "A confidential one, yes." He opened the book. "My God," he
said, "this has an Adams bookplate in it.
Is that his signature?"
    Callaway glanced down at the book and blinked. "I believe it is," he
said.
    "You're sure you want President Bourque to have this?" Pickett asked.
"I mean, well, considering the relationship between our countries.”
    "A friendly gesture never hurts," Callaway said. “So, tell me Mr.
Pickett, why does your President want to meet with me?”
    “I assure you he has a very good reason, but he prefers to tell you himself.”
    “Um hmm,” Wang said, suspicious. "Are you at least willing to tell us when
he hopes to have this confidential summit meeting, the one whose subject he
isn’t ready to