created the Second Reich—the German Empire—through soldiers’ blood and his iron will. That empire had perished at the end of World War I.
Anna permitted herself a wintry grimace. The First Reich had been a medieval political entity. The Third Reich had been that monster Hitler’s creation. Today the Germans seemed wiser than before. No one called it the Fourth Reich, but the German Dominion instead. It encompassed the old European Union with added African countries.
Anna wasn’t here simply because the GD was a first-rate world power. Through his subtle and force-backed diplomacy, Chancellor Kleist had massed GD hovers into Cuba, along with elite paratroopers and airmobile brigades. GD Fleets roamed the Atlantic Ocean and its air and space patrols came perilously near America’s Eastern seaboard. The problem went much deeper, of course. Kleist had made a secret pact with the Pan-Asian Alliance, with China. The ray of hope for America came because it seemed as if Kleist had broken certain accords of the pact. His lack of help in attacking America this summer meant something, and if she did her job well, she might find out what.
One of the State Department men briefing Anna two days ago had told her Kleist reminded him more of Gaiseric than Otto von Bismarck. It had been a chance comment but she’d looked it up. One of her strengths was thoroughness and preparation. If she didn’t know something, she hunted it down.
Gaiseric had ended up being the king of the Vandal barbarians. In the waning days of the Western Roman Empire, groups of German tribes had marched hither and yon, conquering choice pieces of the empire and claiming the land as armed and dangerous squatters. Gaiseric took his Vandals from Spain and into Northern Africa. He besieged and took Carthage and soon turned his Germans into fierce pirates, creating a first-rate navy.
Gaiseric had proved the most cunning of the barbarian warlords. His words had helped convince Attila the Hun to attack the Western Roman Empire. Perhaps Kleist’s words had helped convince Chairman Hong to invade America. After Attila’s time and during Roman troubles, Gaiseric had taken his Vandals and sacked the Eternal City of Rome. The barbarians did such a thorough job of it that the tribal name—Vandal—stuck. It became a word that meant wanton destroyer. The key to understanding Gaiseric was his cunning and avarice.
Now I’m supposed to match wits with the modern Gaiseric. I think David miscalculated. Anna gripped the e-reader. You will remain calm. You will listen carefully and say as little as possible. Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps his mouth shut.
“We’re almost there ma’am,” Demetrius told her. He rode with a walkie-talkie near his mouth and he scanned back and forth.
Anna looked up from her reader. The snow had stopped falling. Rain poured instead. The sedan’s wipers busily cleared the front windshield.
Ah, they approached Hotel Arnarson. It was a blocky, six-story building, with combat helicopters parked on the rooftop. Anna’s eyes widened. She spied armored soldiers on the sidewalks, cradling machine guns. They wore black helmets, some speaking into tiny microphones before their mouths.
Did Kleist fear assassins? That would be an interesting thing to know.
Anna recalled what David had told her. Like the country, the American President was desperate. Above all else, he needed to know the Chancellor’s intentions. Did the German Dominion plan to invade the U.S. or was there a way to buy them off?
How am I supposed to figure out Kleist’s intentions? Anna shook her head. David seemed to think she was good at getting under a foreign leader’s skin. Yes, she knew the Chinese, but the Germans…
What do I know about Germans, these New Germans? World War II had shown they made great soldiers, but they usually made foolish political blunders.
Is Kleist of that mold?
The sedan slowed as it approached Hotel Arnarson. Anna shuddered.
Calm, keep calm and keep your wits. Your country and your President is depending on you to produce a miracle.
***
Chancellor Kleist proved to be short and fat. At first blush, he looked like an old-style German burgher, with doughy cheeks. The eyes belied the image. There was something plastic about the dark orbs, something of an emotionless and predatory shark. He had sparse dark hair but wasn’t bald.
He wore a green suit and expensive Italian shoes. His chin was strong, his hands thick but small and he wore a single ring on his wedding finger. The silver band had a large diamond and that seemed strange and out of