Pacific. He was our ambassador to Russia during the Second War. I always thought that was Roosevelt playing Machiavelli again, sending one of the richest men in America to be ambassador to the Communists.”
“I got the feeling that he was one of the first—and very few—of that bunch around Roosevelt to warn Truman that Uncle Joe ‘The Friendly Bear’ Stalin was a real sonofabitch, ” Howe said.
“Could be,” Pickering said, grunting as he tied his shoelaces. “He’s working for Truman. Most of the rest of that bunch, thank God, is gone.”
He stood up and walked into the bathroom.
“Five o’clock shadow,” he said. “I don’t know if Ernie Sage thought that line up, but it’s made him a hell of a lot of money.”
“Ernie Sage?” Howe asked, walking across the bedroom to stand in the bathroom door.
“McCoy’s father-in-law,” Pickering said. “First, American Personal Pharmaceuticals—that was actually Ernie’s father—made men ashamed of having beards, and then started selling them safety razors and shaving cream. You ever think about how stupid shaving is?”
Howe chuckled.
“You ever have a beard?” he asked.
“I had a beard from the time I got out of the Corps after the First War until the day I got married. Literally, the day I got married. Patricia said she wouldn’t marry me with ‘that fur on your face,’ and I believed her. I should have held my ground.”
“From what I’ve seen of her, she’s a formidable lady,” Howe said. “You said before she doesn’t like Harriman?”
“Can’t stand him.”
“Why?”
“Patricia has always had the odd notion that men should not have carnal knowledge of ladies to whom they are not joined in holy matrimony,” Pickering said, as he lathered his face.
“I wonder where they get that silly idea,” Howe said.
“And the sin is compounded when the chap boffing the lady to whom he is not married is himself married.”
“Of course,” Howe said. “You’re talking around Harriman? He looks—and acts—like the Chairman of the Vestry.”
“And he probably is,” Pickering said.
“But?”
“During the war, Patricia was in London a good deal— she was on the War Shipping Board. She kept an apartment in Claridge’s Hotel. Claridge’s was where Ambassador Harriman stayed when he flew in from Moscow to confer with Eisenhower and, incidentally, to boff Pamela Churchill.”
“Pamela Churchill?”
“Winston’s daughter-in-law,” Pickering said. “His son Randolph’s wife.”
“I never heard this before,” Howe said.
“Well, it was hardly a secret,” Pickering said. “I heard about it over here, in one of Wild Bill Donovan’s Top Secret monthly reports on Important World Events, before Patricia told me. And if Wild Bill knew about Harriman and his girlfriend, then Roosevelt did. You were in Europe during the war, Ralph. You ever hear about Eisenhower’s ‘driver,’ the English girl he had commissioned into the U.S. Army as a captain?”
Howe nodded.
“My God, I am running off at the mouth, aren’t I?” Pickering said. “Maybe George’s drinks were stronger than I thought.”
“Indelicate question,” Howe said. “You ever hear anything about the Viceroy?”
“Not a word. And I would have. Of course, it’s a lot easier to be faithful to your wife if she’s with you. What did Oscar Wilde say, ‘Celibacy is the most unusual of all the perversions’?”
“If you don’t ask me about my fidelity while overseas defending God, Mother, and Apple Pie,” Howe said, “I won’t ask you about yours.”
Pickering chuckled.
“I think what really annoyed Patricia was that Harriman apparently didn’t give a damn who knew about the Churchill woman, which had to be very embarrassing for Mrs. Harriman.”
“What does it say in the Good Book, Flem? ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged’?”
“I’ve never met a woman who got that far in reading the Bible,” Pickering said.
He splashed water on his face, wiped it with a towel, and then splashed on aftershave.
“Well, there we go. My shameful five o’clock shadow having been shorn, and smelling like a French whore, I am now prepared to meet with the ambassador. And Ken Mc-Coy’s father-in-law is just a little bit richer.”
“When do you expect to hear from McCoy?” Howe asked.
“When he has something to tell me,” Pickering said. “He’s very good at what he does, Ralph. My father taught me to get out of the way of people who know what they’re doing, and let them do it.”
Howe nodded.
“I’d better put a tie and my tunic on,” Pickering said.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Howe said. “I didn’t particularly like Harriman’s tone of voice.”
“What?”
“He was giving orders,” Howe said. “As if he had that right.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“And if he walks in here and finds us all dressed up in