ReUNION: What if the Civil War had never happened? (4 page)

"To the north, Mr. Vice President," Dr. Burton said, shining a laser
pointer across the map, "you see New France, that is, all of Canada from Quebec
to the Atlantic Ocean. It's in pink. On the
other side of the continent" – the pointer's bright red light moved to the
left, "You will find Canadia—in tan—everything from British
Columbia to Manitoba."

"You don’t need to talk to me like I’m a seventh grader," Garvey
said, annoyed, "I know my geography."

Burton kept on
talking. "Then, in the middle, of course, the North American Union, in
blue—the our northern states plus, of course, our newest component, Mr. Vice
President, your home state of Ontario.”

The Vice President turned his back on Burton,
who didn't notice, and he ostentatiously dug through the pastries, selecting
one with thick white frosting and nuts. He took a very large bite, then wiped
his mouth.

"After that," Burton said, lecturing again,
"We have the Confederate States of America,
from the Louisiana border to the Atlantic." He waved the pointer across the grey
blob. "And finally, in pale green, we have the lower third of the
continent, including Baja California and Texas—the Empire of
Mexico."

"When is the test, teacher?" Garvey said sarcastically. "Will we
have a chance to study?"

"Now, Mr. Vice President," Burton
said, undeterred, "take a look at the Atlantic coast there." He ran
the pointer up and down, from Virginia to the
tip of Florida.
"What do you see?"

"Beachfront property," Vice President Garvey responded dryly.

"Seaports," Burton
corrected him. "Seaports on the Atlantic Ocean: Miami,
Jacksonville, Savannah,
Newport News, Norfolk."

The Vice President was thoroughly exasperated. "Ok, seaports. So
what?"

"Well, look now at the coast of Mexico." Burton used his pointer again. "What do
you see?"

Garvey stared at the map, clueless, his mouth falling open slightly. "More
seaports?"

"Yes, a few," Burton allowed,
"But on the Gulf of Mexico, not the Atlantic.
Separated from the Atlantic by more than 800
miles of shallow, barely navigable waters—that's two days of extra transit
time. And time, Mr. Vice President, is money. Big money."

"I see," said Vice President Garvey. He didn't see, not at all.

"This makes Mexican oil over-priced—or less profitable, if the Mexicans
meet the going rate," DCI Hawke explained. "But if they could build a
pipeline to Savannah or Newport News..."

"Ah," said the Vice President, the light finally dawning. "So
why don't they?"

"Because of Buddy Bourque," Veronica Tennenbaum told him, as though
that should have been obvious. "He and Garcia are sworn enemies."

Callaway posed a question: "What would happen if Mexico attacked
the CSA again?"

Hawke steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "I don't think Garcia would try.
He barely made it home alive the last time."

The Vice President nodded. "I seem to remember something about a
hurricane."

"Yes, and Buddy Bourque," Hawke said. "That man is a force of
nature. He's practically holding the CSA together with his bare hands. As far
as his people are concerned, he's their savior."

General Hutchison cleared his throat. "It's not just the man," he
said. "If the Mexicans attacked across the Texas border, they'd run smack into the
fortifications he built. They’re a little old-fashioned and a bit run down, but
they’re a well-manned barrier of concrete pillboxes and deep, impenetrable
tunnels nearly 300 miles long, bristling with artillery pieces, machine guns
and mortars."

Callaway finished off his cruller, and, realizing his fingers were sticky,
reached for a napkin and tried to wipe them off. That failing, he licked, and
smiled when he saw everyone watching him. "Madame Secretary of
State..."

"Designate," Ms. Tennenbaum reminded him mischievously.

"Designate," Callaway added, "How would you characterize our
relationship with the Confederate States of America?"

She leaned back and folded her arms under what her awe-struck subordinates
liked to call the Grand Tetons. "We don't have much a relationship,"
she said. "We've tried to be friends occasionally, during the 1918 and
1963 influenza epidemics, for instance, But the cooperation didn't last."

"Yes," Callaway said, "I remember some of the stories. They'd bring
sick whites to our hospitals, but no Blacks. So we finally started refusing all
CSA patients. What about now, Veronica?"

"Now we don't have much to do with each other," the
Secretary-of-State designate said. "We're like a long-divorced couple with
no children. We might nod if we pass each other in the street. But neither of
us is interested in trying it again."

"Let's keep this in mind," General Hutchison pointed out. "We
share most of our southern border with the CSA and it's one of the most heavily
patrolled borders in the world, on their side anyhow."

This time it was Hawke who helped himself to a donut, a glazed one just
starting to turn gooey. "True enough, but in their paranoia, they want to
prevent their people from leaving. They’re not concerned with keeping us
out."

"They're happy to see us when we bring money," Eric Wang said,
speaking up for the first time.

"You've been?" Callaway asked, surprised.

"To Miami Beach,"
Wang said. "It was pretty nice. Good corned beef at Junior's Deli."

"I like Havana
much better," said the Vice President. "The night clubs are
spectacular."

Callaway frowned. The Vice President was a known partier."Ok,
people," he said, "let's get down to business. We've already
covered the CSA and Mexico
pretty well. Let's look at the rest of the world. Director Hawke?"

Hawke opened the yellow binder on the table in front of him. "You mean Germany, of
course."

"Indeed," said Callaway, pleased with Hawke’s quick mind.

"Well, as we all know, the German Empire is thriving and at peace with its
colonies in Africa, the South Pacific and China. It remains the most powerful
country in the world, both economically and militarily, as it has been for the
last 75 years or so."

"With military bases all over the world, " General Hutchison put in
unnecessarily.

"Well, they are good peacekeepers" said the
Secretary-of-State-designate. "And God knows, the world needs a policeman.
Japan and China would
still be at war if it weren't for the Germans."

"The line between peacekeeping and colonization is a very fine one,"
DCI Hawke observed.

"That's true, " Callaway said, "but they've been fairly
benign."

"Yes. So far. And very generous to their defeated enemies," said
Hawke.

"Ah yes, England,"
Callaway said. "Anyone have any ideas about reducing tensions between us
and Jolly Old England?"

"I think we're destined to rub each other the wrong way," Hawke said.
"We're continually on the verge of a trade war, or a trivial territorial
dispute, like the one over Bermuda, or we're
kicking each other's diplomats out of the country because of some kind of sex
scandal. Or spying."

"Well, we did fight two wars against each other," said Dr. Burton.
"and we barely avoided two others. That’s a lot of bad blood."

"Fortunately, England
isn't powerful enough to be a real problem," Secretary-of-State designate
Tennenbaum piped up. "She hasn't been the same since the Great War. It's
almost 100 years later, and she still hasn't recovered from her loss of men and
treasure."

Callaway drew in a deep breath. "keep going, Director Hawke. What about France?"

"France?
Well, we're great friends with France,"
Hawke said, "but outside of fashion...and food...nobody takes France
seriously. You know the saying, 'Don't buy anything with moving parts from France.' Since
the Great War, when Germany
grabbed off most of its industry, it's mostly been a stop on the European
tourist circuit. It isn't any more important than, well, Japan or Russia."

"Now that you bring up those two..." Callaway promoted.

"Yes, Japan and Russia. Might
as well throw China
in there as well," Hawke said. "The three sleeping giants. May they
continue to snooze.”

Suddenly, large square red lights in all four corners of the room began
flashing almost stroboscopically. Moments later, a shrill warning siren sounded
three times. A score of well-armed marines poured into the room and set up
machine guns to guard the doors. Thick steel plates nosily slid down the walls
and thudded closed, turning the situation room into a huge steel box.

Vice President Garvey leaped to his feet, opened his mouth and sat down again,
completely flummoxed. Ms. Tennenbaum just stared at the Marines, paralyzed.
General Hutchison folded his arms across his chest, and exchanged an calculatedly
bored glance with DCI Hawke.

The President was not so patient. "What's going on?" he demanded,
confronting the nearest Marine, a grim-faced officer with his gun drawn.

"Please come with me, Mr. President," the officer said, taking
Callaway by the arm and helping him to his feet. On the wall opposite the door,
two panels opened automatically, revealing a long, poorly-lit concrete tunnel
leading out of the situation room.

The President went along with the officer, but continued to question him, in a
surprisingly steady voice. "What's happening? Has there been an attack of
some kind?"

"We've had a main gate intrusion attempt," said the Marine. "An
SUV crashed into the wrought iron entrance, apparently with intent to gain
White House access."

"But the intruder has been stopped and caught?"

"I have no information about that. But, since the intruder could have
accomplices, standard drill is to get you to safe quarters
immediately."

Callaway nodded, "Myself and the room's other occupants," he said.

"That is correct, sir."

Callaway found himself being hustled into the tunnel, the rest of the group
nervously following along behind him. A pair of Marines, weapons at the ready,

brought up the rear. The President
and his aides had been here before, during the transition process, but the
sudden alarm caught them all off guard, raising fears, stripping away dignity.
Vice President Garvey seemed particularly dazed and confused.

It took the little procession nearly two minutes to walk the length of the
tunnel, which ended in a smaller version of the Situation Room, equipped with
every communication device and life support system known to man. Adjoining it
were bathrooms, a kitchen, sleeping quarters, and a larder sufficiently
well-stocked to feed 100 people for six months.

The President and his companions could have taken seats at the table in the
center of the room and continued their meeting, but instead, they milled about,
uncomfortably.

"What's that noise?" asked Eric Wang, anxiously.

"Noise?" asked the Vice President, eyes wide with fear, "What
noise?"

"That hum—don't you hear it?"
"Ah," said General Hutchison. "That's the generators. This place
is totally-self sufficient. It even has an independent air-supply supply
system."

"It still feels very stuffy," said Veronica Tennenbaum. "I'm
having a hard time catching my breath."

"That's just surprise and tension," said DCI Hawke. "The feeling
will pass."

Callaway's eyes were on the Marine officer, who was listening intently to his
earpiece. "What news?"

"No sign of another attack," the officer said. "The intrusion
has been stopped."

Callaway smiled tentatively. "What do they say about the intruder?"

"Actually, there were two of them," the Marine officer said.
"Both were dressed in military uniforms, wearing IIM patches. We have them
in custody."

The President was puzzled. "IMM?"

"No, IIM—the
Independent Idaho
Militia
. They're one of the more active anti-government groups in the Pacific northwest. We're old friends."

"Were they armed?" Secretary Tennenbaum asked. "Any
casualties?"

"Yes, with automatic weapons," the Marine officer said. He cupped a
hand over his earpiece again. "No shots were fired. The intruders are a
bit bruised, but not seriously hurt."

"Bruised, eh?" Wang said. "I wonder how that happened."

The Marine officer permitted himself a small smile, but said nothing.

For the rest of the hour, they skipped around the globe, giving short shrift to
Africa ("Mostly colonies," Burton
said. "Mainly German"), to South America ("Bananas, music
and abject poverty" was the way Tennenbaum summed it up), and to Arabia ("Camels and sand," said Ms. Tennenbaum,
to which Director Hawke added "and evidently large reserves of petroleum.)

None of these vast areas, the President was assured, presented any immediate
problems or opportunities, and any conflicts they had with each other were the
province of the League of Nations, not the
North American Union.

Next came President Callaway's meeting with the Council of Economic Advisors,
where the Treasury Secretary-designate, Sherman Mullhouser, the one-time 'lion
of Wall Street,' a slim, gimlet-eyed man who wore a better suit and much better
shoes than the President, rattled on for a good half hour about the competitive
threat from Mexico's manufacturing sector and the threat to NAU's independence,
because of our reliance on Texas oil.

"Mark my words," the Treasury Secretary-designate warned, "Mexico intends to dominate North
America and minimize us. It hopes someday to challenge Germany for the
economic leadership of the world. And
Presidente
Garcia will seize any
opening he can find. He is the ultimate opportunist."

"I guess that means I should be very nice to the German Ambassador."
Callaway said. "I'm having lunch with him in a half hour."

"Yes,” Mullhouser suggested. “Arrange to play tennis with him. Let him
win."