The Hotline

For All Nails #152: The Hotline

By Noel Maurer and David Mix Barrington

2 January 1975, 2:00 pm (7:00 pm GMT)

Carter Monaghan was a mildly curious man as the aide ushered him into the office that had been his own for eight years. What did his successor want with him? Surely it was more than the promised friendly chat and catching up, since Lennart Skinner never did anything without a good reason. Two or three good reasons, usually.

Monaghan missed the top job from time to time, but at the moment he didn't envy Skinner a bit. Since the explosion on Christmas night there had been no public information on the whereabouts of Mercator or the other M-bombs he claimed to possess. Monaghan's less-than-public sources told him much the same as the public ones -- a Mexican military purged of Mercator's strongest backers (where they hadn't simply disappeared), a joint USM/RNG force madly searching remote areas of Rio Negro and examining the abandoned transmitting station from which the extraordinary speech had come. Tens of thousands dead in Bali, perhaps hundreds of thousands walking dead with radiative poisoning, a nuclear-armed Australia and Taiwan with publics crying out for revenge. Rumors of high-level meetings in Europe. No, it was not a good time to be Governor-General.

Lennart Skinner was seated behind his desk. He stood up to shake Monaghan's hand. "Governor. Good of you to see me on such short notice."

Monaghan nodded. "It's not a problem, Governor-General."

"Good. Good." He waved at the chair in front of his desk. "Siddown. You want a drink? I've got some good home-brewed Georgia bourbon here, the best." Skinner mimed moving towards the rack of bottles on the wall, a new addition to the office.

"How can I pass up an invitation like that, Governor-General? I'd be honored." Skinner walked over to the rack and pulled out a bottle of smoky-yellow liquid. He grabbed two glasses and walked back to where Monaghan was seated. The Governor-General put the glasses down on the unassuming coffee table in the center of the office, unscrewed the bottle, and poured two glasses.

"So, Gov'nor," began Skinner as he poured, "Ah've just been wonderin' what you've been doin' to keep y'self occupied, since you gave up the leadership. Ah keep seein' your fine face on my vitavision. You know, you gave my boy Trevor a right hard time on Big Momma Judy's program just last Sunday mornin'. I been thinkin', is your boy Brady just keepin' the chair warm for you, or whut?"

Monaghan's face didn't show it, but the temptation to roll his eyes was enormous. He knew that Skinner's down-home accent was as artificial as the breasts of the Mexican secretary of state, but Monaghan's Southern Vandalian upbringing would never allow him to call the Governor-General on it. "I follow current events, Governor-General, but Anderson Brady is his own man. I have no role in the P.C. leadership succession."

"Uh-huh." Monaghan couldn't tell if that meant "yes," or "yeah, right." The Governor-General took a sip of his bourbon and continued. "Ah hear that. Speaking of current events, Guv'nor, I wonder if Ah could trouble you for your opinion on a matter."

"I'm pretty free with my opinions, Governor-General."

"Ah'd like to have your advice 'bout what we should be doin' with Messico. The Christmas Bombing, Ah guess they're callin' it."

At the word "Messico," Monaghan's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the window behind the Governor-General's desk, where a large Mexican flag could be seen flapping in the breeze. The embassy was right across the street from the Executive Mansion.

Skinner saw the glance, and turned around himself. "Uh-huh. Ironic, ain't it? Every time I want to give a vita address from this office, we have to phone the damn Messicans and ask 'em to take down the flag. You ever had a problem with that?"

"No, Governor-General, the embassy staff was always highly cooperative."

Skinner nodded. "Highly cooperative, eh?"

"Yes," replied Monaghan.

"Well" -- it came out sounding like "way-ell" -- "mah question for you is just how cooperative them Messicans might be willin' to be on, shall we say, more substantive matters."

Now it was Monaghan's turn to nod. "Very, I think. They have the same long-term interests that we do, especially with regards to the M-bomb."

"Uh-huh. Way-ell, it may surprise you to hear this, Guv'nor, but Ah've about decided you're right about that. Course we ain't always seen eye-to-eye on the subject, but Ah'm thinkin' that we see eye-to-eye right now. Problem is, my rhetoric with regard to Messico's always been a bit harsh, you might say. I'm thinkin' I may not be the most popular man over there 'bout now. And Ah admit that Ah don't know their President from Adam's off ox."

Where was he going? Monaghan wondered. And what the hell was "Adam's off ox"?

"Now you, suh, on the other hand, have met with the President on numerous occasions. You've got a rapport with the man, an understandin' of where he comes from. Ah'm gon' be enterin' into some serious negotiations with Messico in the near future, as you can imagine. Ah'm thinkin' that Ah need a Special personal Envoy to ol' Presidente Montezuma, and that you are just the man for the job. You know the man, you know the background, and besides it'll be just the thing to show ever'one that the country is united, the major parties of the country anyway."

"It's 'Moctezuma,' Governor-General, not 'Montezuma,'" corrected Monaghan. "They consider 'Montezuma' offensive over there." Skinner raised an eyebrow very slightly, making it clear to Monaghan that this was no inadvertent error.

"Nice test, Governor-General," added Monaghan. "You know, Governor-General, you're not at all unpopular west of the border. I've seen their vita shows, and I'll admit that they have a field day parodying you, but it's all affectionate. The 'ig'nent country boy' act goes over better there than it does here."

"Act, Guv'nor?"

Monaghan just raised an eyebrow. Skinner laughed. "So you accept?"

"I am surprised," replied Monaghan. "I would have to agree to follow your line on foreign affairs, or else resign. I'd expect the same of anyone working for me. That could be difficult, but this is a national crisis."

"So that would be a yes?" Somehow, the Governor-General put two syllables in the word "yes."

"Yes, Governor-General, it is."

"Way-ell, Ah'm happy to have you on the team. Good. We got this here dedicated phone line down to Messico City, what'say we ring up President Moctezuma and tell him the good news."

Monaghan held up a hand. "So quickly? We should confer first."

"Uh-huh. Just what is it that Ah need to know that Ah don't know right now?"

Monaghan paused for a moment. Leaning back on the couch and steepling his fingers, he said, "Unlike you, the President's unsophisticated exterior conceals an equally unsophisticated interior. He is very smart, but he knows little about international diplomacy, and at times he gave me the impression that he cared even less. Keep that in mind. What do you want to propose to him?"

"The short answer is a peace conference, a joint statement opposing Old World interference in America, and, in the long-term, a military alliance."

Monaghan smiled. "You mean the People's Coalition foreign policy platform?"

Skinner grinned back. "To quote George Bolingbroke, 'When the facts change, I change my opinion. What do you do, sir?' It ain't like we're talking domestic politics here, Guv'nor."

"Touché," responded Monaghan. "The President won't commit to anything military, because he's still consolidating his control over the armed forces and the USM is fundamentally isolationist. That might seem odd for the world's largest exporting nation, but it's true nonetheless. You cannot underestimate the traumatic effect the Global War had on our neighbor. Every foreign policy initiative is seen through its prism." FN1

Skinner nodded. "Good advice. Whut about the joint statement?"

"He won't do the joint statement, because it implicitly commits his military. I wouldn't even suggest an alliance at this point. We should settle for the peace conference and overtures toward overall better relations. As I mentioned, there is a reservoir of good will toward you in Mexico -- just look at Sábado Gigante en Vivo."

"Sábado Gigante en Vivo?" Monaghan noticed that Skinner had reproduced the Spanish sounds perfectly.

"A Mexican late-night vita variety program," explained Monaghan. And a program, he thought, that parodied Skinner a lot more often than it had him. The only "Monaghan" for the last year or two of his administration had been wearing some great godawful thing on his head.

"You think Ah should be watching this program?" asked the Governor-General.

"For any other country, I'd say, 'Why bother?' But for Mexico, yes. Sábado is the one cultural thing, if you want to call it that, that they all have in common."

"Ah'm afraid Ah don't speak Spanish, Guv'nor."

Monaghan shrugged. "Just Latin and Greek?" He couldn't resist making another dig at Skinner's country-boy act. "No matter. By law, there are subtitles. The confusing part, really, is that the show doesn't seem to be in one language or the other. It just mixes the two interchangeably."

"Uh-huh," grunted the Governor-General, apparently unsure of what to make of that datum. "Way-ell, let's just make that phone call, shall we?" He stood up and pushed the intercom button on his desk. "Rachel? Send Michael in, willya, hon? Thank you, darlin'." He sat on the edge of the desk, looking at his predecessor. "Ah figure Michael should be here for this, don't you, Guv'nor?"

Monaghan nodded. "Governor-General?" came the Foreign Minister's voice from the main entrance to the officer. "I'm here."

"Come on in, Michael, take a seat. The Guv'nor here has agreed to be our Special Envoy to the Yoonited States. We're all ready to call the President now."

"Excellent!" said the Foreign Minister. He looked at the former Governor-General. "Did the Governor-General talk to you about our proposal?"

Monaghan smiled. "Yes, yes he did. It seemed familiar."

Murphy just nodded. "It's a new situation." His glance shifted back and forth between the two leaders. "Are we still running with the original plan?"

Skinner repeated to Murphy what Monaghan had suggested to him. Murphy nodded in agreement. "Alrighty, then," said Skinner. "Here she goes." He punched the red button on the speakerphone.

A woman with a strange accent answered the phone with a melodious "Chapultepec Castle, presidential office."

"This is the Governor-General of the Confederation of North America. Ah'd like to speak to the President, if you'd please."

"Let me see if he's available, Mr. Governor-General." The woman didn't seem surprised. Which didn't surprise Skinner. This line came from one-and-only-one place, so who else would be calling? There was about a minute of silence.

"Hello?" came the baritone of the President of the United States, sounding rather tinny on the speaker.

"Mr. President, this is Carter Monaghan. I've been appointed Special Envoy to the United States of Mexico. I would like to convey our good wishes in this horrible crisis. We believe closer and more friendly relations to be in both our interests."

"Aaaaaaah hah," went the speaker. It's not Skinner's "uh huh," but I do think Moctezuma really is the way Skinner pretends to be, thought Monaghan, and not for the first time. He respected the Governor-General, but didn't like him. He liked the President, but couldn't decide how much he respected him.

Murphy spoke up. "Mr. President, this is Michael Murphy, the Foreign Minister. As a show of goodwill, our military has taken steps to defuse any tensions between us."

"Nnyaaah," went the speaker. "Like the second carrier group in the Caribbean?"

"The carrier group is there to discourage European adventurism, Mr. President. We are deliberately keeping it far away from any Mexican naval assets. In fact, we are ready to establish a direct link between our naval command and yours. We can and should keep each other apprised of the location and size of all our forces in the Caribbean, Mr. President, to avoid misunderstandings. We are willing to take further steps to assure our good intentions."

"I'll take that under advisement. What do you really want?" said the President.

Murphy was about to answer, but Monaghan held up a hand. "We oppose foreign interference in the situation in the Kingdom of New Granada."

"We're also against foreign interference in the hemisphere, Carter. Thing is, we count you as foreign." Moctezuma chuckled.

Monaghan couldn't help smiling. That was El Popo. "We are going to publicly support King Ferdinand's position, Mr. President. We want to discuss with you the exact position we're going to take, and ask you in advance to join an international peace conference in order to resolve the situation."

"Yuuuuuuuh huh," grunted the President. "Well, Ferdinand's position is nice, but it isn't tenable. Hell, if the Germans have given us an ultimatum, I don't wanna know what the limones have told their ally."

"An ultimatum?" blurted Skinner. There was no trace of a Southern accent.

"Aaaaaaah," there was a pause. "You didn't know this?" asked El Popo.

"Did we know that?" asked Skinner. "Nobody told me that."

"Our diplomatic intelligence has been limited," said Murphy.

"No. No one is talking to us, and we're not happy about that," said Skinner. The accent was back, and he sounded angry.

"What reprisals did they threaten?" asked Murphy.

"Uhh ... none," replied El Popo. "They tell me that makes it a demarche, technically."

"Demarche, ultimatum, it ain't acceptable to us that the Germans are leanin' on you, Mr. President," said the Governor-General.

"Aaaaaaaaah hah. Nnnyhhmmmm. You, know, Mr. Governor-General, if nobody's talking to you, I may know something that you don't."

"Ah'm all ears."

"The Germans gave us this demarche in the name of themselves, Taiwan, I don't remember who else, and the United Empire. So it's your cousins doing the leaning," said the President.

Murphy nodded. "We thought that might be how it was working out. Those meetings in the Baltic."

Skinner again: "Mr. President, as I said, we don't like this at all. And you have my assurances that we're going to tell our British friends that in the strongest possible terms."

"We expect the United Empire to suggest some sort of bilateral approach soon," added Murphy, "but we'd prefer to keep the hemisphere as free of European interference as possible. Given King Ferdinand's statements, we are wedded to a peaceful approach to the crisis."

Moctezuma snorted. "Yeah, right. The Brits just want New Granada's oil. I support your position, really I do, but I'm not going to war to stop 'em. If they wanna poke their pennies into a tropical Pacific War, let 'em. It's not like New Granada is our ally, or didn't bring this whole thing on themselves."

Skinner raised an eyebrow at the phrase "poke their pennies." Not even Skinner had ever employed quite that degree of vulgarity in political discourse, let alone a international diplomacy.

Monaghan made a mental note to remind Skinner that there was an ideological edge for the Mexicans. Charismatic as King Ferdinand might be, logical and reasonable as he might be, there was a large segment of Mexican public opinion that would oppose him just because of his title. "It's still not in our interest or yours to have European powers interfering in this hemisphere," said the former Governor-General.

"Tell me about it. I have my own problems," said the President.

"Ah unnerstand," said the Governor-General. "Mr. President, Ah am prepared to say publicly that I have the utmost confidence in you an' your gummint. An' Ah will tell that to the British as directly as Ah can."

"The carrier group is an indication of our seriousness," added the Foreign Minister.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh yeah," replied Moctezuma. "Oye, Mr. Governor-General, lemme give you some advice. You're not really playing to your strengths here ... hold on a second." The line went silent.

"What's that about?" asked Skinner.

Monaghan shrugged. "I suspect that El Popo was about to give you some advice drawn from his experience in Mexican domestic politics, but Señora del Rey wants to make sure he doesn't say something inopportune."

"Huh. Is Del Rey handling him?" asked Skinner.

"No, not really. The man is quite shrewd. But like I said, he's also naïve where international relations are concerned." Monaghan steepled his fingers. "He could easily give away a negotiating position or secret information without thinking."

"Any idea what he might have been about to say?"

Monaghan shook his head. They waited, and waited, and waited some more. Murphy began to discuss the call when the line reopened.

Moctezuma's voice, sounding tinny, came from the speaker. "Sorry about that. Alright. Listen, Lennie, have you ever watched Tierra Caliente?"

"No," said Skinner. This is the first time I've ever heard him called "Lennie" in person, thought Monaghan. Looks like El Popo also watches Sábado Gigante en Vivo.

"It's a pólinovela. A, whatchamacallit, a police show. Pretty good, you should see it, although western Chiapas ain't quite that wild in real life." The President coughed. "Well, the polies in TC have this thing they call the pólibien-pólimal routine. One poli pretends to act psycho, completely encabronado, like he's gonna matar the suspect. The other calms him down, leads him out, y warns the soso that he can't control the pólimal for much longer if he doesn't start cooperating."

"Uh-huh," said Skinner. It seemed to Monaghan that Skinner found this kind of story harder to follow than to invent. Polies? Matar? Soso? Well, he and Murphy could fill in the details for the Governor-General after the call was over.

"Looks like you're the pólimal, pal," said the President. "Which makes us the pólibien. The routine worked okay on Boricua, dontcha think? You got your prisoners back. So escuchame good: the problem with the strategy is that the pólimal has gotta be prepared to go all the way if the soso doesn't cooperate. Me explico? I'll go to your conference, and we'll be the polibien. I wholeheartedly accept your offer to script the whole damn thing in advance, because we don't want the limones and coles in America any more than you do. Just be prepared to walk the walk if it doesn't work."

Skinner didn't look up to speed yet, but Murphy began nodding vigorously. "Mr. President, I think that's a very positive and constructive proposal. And I believe I understand all the implications of what you're proposing. Can I get back to you, say in a few hours, with more details from our end?"

After I've explained to my boss what the hell you're talking about, Monaghan silently filled in for the Foreign Minister.

"Absolutely. Nos hablamos, y buen suerte." The line went dead.

If it wasn't a good time to be Governor-General, Monaghan thought, was it any better a time to be a Special Envoy?

Forward to FAN #153 (USM Politics): Notes From the Investigation, Part 1.

Forward to 2 January 1975 (CNA Politics, American War): A Message From Big Brother.

Return to For All Nails.