“Good. Now it’s time to enlighten the cable office.”
All messages sent from embassies in Eastern Europe are encoded first. They are typed on a special typewriter, read by an electronic scanner in the code room, and automatically encoded there. The codes are changed every day and have five designations: Top Secret, Secret, Confidential, Limited Official Use, and Unclassified. The cable office itself, a barred, windowless back room filled with the latest electronic equipment, was closely guarded.
Sandy Palance, the officer in charge, was seated in the cable room behind a cage. He rose as Mary approached. “Good afternoon, Madam Ambassador. May I help you?”
“No. I’m going to help vow.”
There was a puzzled look on Palance’s face. “Ma’am?”
“You’ve been sending out cables without my signature. That means they’re unauthorized cables.”
He was suddenly defensive. “Well, the consulars told me that—”
“From now on, if you are asked by anyone to send a cable that does not have my signature on it, it is to be brought directly to me. Is that understood?” There was steel in her voice.
Palance thought: Jesus! They sure had this one pegged wrong. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
“Good.”
Mary turned and walked away. She knew that the cable room was used by the CIA to send messages through a “black channel.” There was no way she could stop that. She wondered how many members of the embassy were part of the CIA, and she wondered if Mike Slade had told her the whole truth about it. She had the feeling he had not.
That night, Mary made notes of the day’s events and jotted down the problems that needed to be acted upon. She put them at her bedside, on top of a small table. In the morning she went into the bathroom to shower. When she was dressed, she picked up her notes. They were in a different order. You can be sure that the embassy and the residence are bugged. Mary stood there for a moment thinking.
At breakfast, when she and Beth and Tim were alone in the dining room, Mary said in a loud voice, “The Romanians are such a wonderful people. But I have a feeling they’re far behind the United States in some ways. Did you know that a lot of the apartments our embassy staff live in have no heat or running water and that the toilets don’t work?” Beth and Tim were looking at her strangely. “I suppose we’ll have to teach the Romanians how to fix things like that.”
The following morning, Jerry Davis said, “I don’t know how you did it but there are workmen all over the place, fixing up our apartments.”
Mary grinned. “You just have to speak nicely to them.”
At the end of a staff meeting Mike Slade said, “You have a lot of embassies to pay your respects to. You’d better get started today.”
She resented his tone. Besides, it was none of his business; Harriet Kruger was the protocol officer, and she was away from the embassy for the day.
Mike went on, “It’s important that you call on the embassies according to priority. The most important—”
“—is the Russian embassy. I know that.”
“I would advise you—”
“Mr. Slade—if I need any advice from you about my duties here, I’ll let you know.”
Mike let out a deep sigh. “Right.” He rose. “Whatever you say, Madam Ambassador.”
After her visit to the Russian embassy, the rest of Mary’s day was taken up with interviews, a senator from New York who wanted inside information about dissidents, and a meeting with the new agriculture consular.
As Mary was about to leave the office, Dorothy Stone buzzed her and said, “There’s an urgent call for you, Madam Ambassador. James Stickley from Washington.”
Mary picked up the telephone. “Hello, Mr. Stickley.”
Stickley’s voice came burning over the wire. “Would you mind telling me what in God’s name you’re doing?”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“Obviously. The secretary of state has just received a formal protest from the ambassador of Gabon about your behavior.”
“Just a minute!” Mary replied. “There’s some mistake. I haven’t even talked to the ambassador of Gabon.”