* * *
The big Pentagon room was filled with a blue haze of cigarette and cigar smoke. The mahogany table was littered with empty glasses, overflowing ashtrays, and crumbs from a meal of dried-out sandwiches. The preeminent smell was a mixture of sweat and anger.
“I don’t like it!” General Lyons shouted as he shifted the wet cigar butt from one side of his mouth to the other.
“I think we have more than enough evidence that she’s telling the truth,” Congressman Smith said. He was the only one of the six men to still look somewhat fresh; nevertheless, there were dark circles of sleeplessness under his eyes. “Did you see the scar on her left hand? Our records say she fell while on a hunting trip when she was twelve years old.”
“But who knows which princess is better for America?” General
O’Connor said. “Lanconia doesn’t really mean much to us except that now we need the vanadium. If the imposter princess will give us the vanadium, I don’t think we should involve ourselves.”
“Lanconia lies near Germany and Russia. Russia is our friend now but it is a communist country. After the war—”
“Who knows what will happen to Lanconia after the war? Say we restore this princess to the throne. Didn’t that report say she was related to some German royals? What if she marries one?”
The six men began to talk at once.
General Brooks slammed his fist on the table. “I say we need her on the throne. You heard her promise to give America the vanadium if we help her. And she would be sure to give it to us if she were married to an American.”
“An American?” Congressman Smith gasped. “Those bluebloods marry only bluebloods. We abolished monarchy in this country, remember? So where do we find an American prince?”
“That little girl will do anything for her country,” General Brooks said. “You mark my words. If we told her we’d help her only if she married an American and later made him king, believe me, she’d do it.”
“But didn’t we hear she was already engaged?”
“I met him,” General Brooks said. “A pompous little runt, old enough to be her father. He only wants our princess for her money.”
“Our princess?” General Lyons snorted.
“She will be ours if we help her and put an American there beside her. Think of having military posts so near Russia and Germany.”
The men considered this.
“So who do we choose to make king?” Congressman Smith asked.
“Someone we can trust. Someone who believes in America. None of these bleeding hearts.”
“He has to have a good family history,” General Brooks said. “We can’t ask a princess to marry a gangster or an imbecile. We put only America’s finest on the throne.”
General Attenburgh yawned. “I vote we adjourn and present some names tomorrow.”
The men readily agreed.
The next morning six sleepy-eyed men met. Four of them, without giving away the actual facts of the problem, had asked their wives what American would make a good king. Clark Gable won hands down, with Cary Grant a close second. Robert Taylor also received a few votes.
After four hours of arguing, six names were selected. Two of them were young congressmen, one a wealthy businessman not so young, and three were sons of America’s oldest families, one of whose ancestors came over on the Mayflower.
Each name was given to a committee and rated as top priority. The men were to be researched as thoroughly as possible and it was made clear that the staff was to look for dirt. If this man was going to be crowned king, whatever skeletons were in his closet had better come out now.
“And check out that man Montgomery,” Congressman Smith said as an afterthought. “Let’s see if we can trust him to keep his mouth shut.”
* * *
For three days Aria was kept as a prisoner in her hotel room. Two men with rifles were outside her door twenty-four hours a day and more soldiers were stationed on the street below her windows. On the morning of the second day a large package of magazines was delivered courtesy of General Brooks.
Aria sat down and got her first real look at Americans. They seemed to be a frivolous lot, interested mainly in movie stars and nightclub singers. A Life magazine had several pages neatly cut from it and the contents showed that it had been an article on Lanconia’s regal princess.
At six A.M. on the fourth day, three WACs came to her room to help her dress. They were very professional and very cool, did what Aria asked, and made no complaint.