Part 34 - We Can't Go On This Way      "Barry Goldwater served America, all of America, a country       conceived in liberty, a country that let you pledge any damn thing       you wanted as long as it didn't cost someone else their liberty." - Senator John McCain, 1998 (Monday, 28 April 1971) All Saints Episcopal Church in Phoenix was a barn. But a very attractive barn. Large, with high ceilings in the Spanish colonial style and tastefully decorated in keeping with the Christian traditions of the South-West. The President of the United States walked slowly towards the lectern. "Barry Morris Goldwater dedicated his life to the service of his country and the American people he loved so much. "On this day, in these difficult time for the United States, it is perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in. We can move in the direction of violence, as Barry Goldwater's killer did, and strike out against those who are opposed to what we believe. "Or we can make an effort, as Barry Goldwater did, to make our case for our beliefs in the public arena, through the democratic structures that make this republic great. "My favourite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: 'In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.' "So we stand today beside the family of Barry Goldwater in their grief and loss but we stand beside America, our own country which all of us love and which Barry loved more than most. "We can do well in this country. We will have difficult times; we've had difficult times in the past; we will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; it is not the end of disorder. "But the vast majority of people in this country want to live together, want to strengthen our nation, and want justice and the rule of law to be paramount in our land, just as Barry did. "So let us dedicate to ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world. "Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and as we do to say a prayer for our country and for our people. And let us say a prayer of thanks for the life and work of Barry Morris Goldwater." The organist played the introduction to the next hymn as the President sat down. He looked at his order of service but recognised neither the words nor the tune. Must be one of these Limey songs Episcopalians are so fond of. Nevertheless, the lyrics seemed apposite for the occasion. The next orator was Rabbi Albert Plotkin of Temple Beth Israel[1]. The President had met plenty of rabbis during his career as a politician but seldom at a service of Christian burial. Still, this is the 1970s, he thought. Albert said a brief prayer in Hebrew. Then Barry's sons came forward, placed their hands on the coffin and recited the Lord's Prayer. The bier was then carried out as the congregation sang The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Now there was a song you could really sing! Next, thought the President, I have to worry about what to say at Lyn's funeral on Thursday.

It wasn't really a meeting of the 'D' sub-committee. Jennie was away on Home Office business. It was just a meeting of Denis with Peggy and Jim before the latter two went with their spouses to Washington for the funeral. Peggy was attempting to determine what had happened. "So since the order was given, the target had become Vice-President. The operation was allowed to continue, the target survived and is now the President of the United States. Denis looked at Jim as if to say, well it was your agency that initiated it. Jim looked at Denis as if to say, well I wasn't Foreign Secretary when the decision was made and you only told me about the decision last week. After an uncomfortable silence Denis spoke, "That is correct, Prime Minister." "And what do you suggest we do?" Jim stepped in, "Tell the Americans we deplore it and blame Australia." Denis frowned, "Yes, but as a more lasting solution we need to come up with a modus vivendi with the Americans. They stop trying to kill us and we stop trying to kill them. We should pursue this at all levels - Jim when you meet with Secretary Kissinger and Peggy when you meet with the President." Peggy nodded, "I imagine the new man has had enough of assassinations and assassination attempts to last him a lifetime."

Don encountered his friend Lionel in the warren of corridors that made up much of the 45 year old temporary parliament house. Lionel was in a jovial mood, his nose shining bright. "Hullo, Don you old bastard! How's my little mate? I've decided to take your advice, you know, off to Melbourne tomorrow for the big raid." Don was horrified. "Jesus, Lionel, mate, no!" he gasped, "You don't want to do that." "But you've always told me that I should. Why shouldn't I found out what they're doing? Particularly if they're working for the Americans." "Lionel, believe me, you don't want to know what they're doing. And they're not always working for the Americans. Come over here." They found a convenient and vacant backbencher's office, assuming that this was least likely to be bugged. Don briefly outlined the sordid details. Lionel was suitably horrified, "The President of the United States?" "He wasn't even in government when the order was given. Now the Americans are on the warpath and London is telling us to drop our boy like a sack of hot potatoes." Lionel's look shifted to one of concern, "And will you drop him?" Don looked at his shoes, "We'll give him a warning before we send his file to Washington. Our people are resourceful and highly trained. He'll have a chance of getting away." "A good chance?" asked Lionel. Don, still staring at his shoes, mumbled, "A chance."

Duncan had not waited for any warning from Canberra. He realised the dags had hit the fleeces when his new found friend from the Teamsters had hit the wrong target. Duncan had not even been in Phoenix, content to monitor the operation from Los Angeles. He had been waiting fresh orders from Melbourne, his operational HQ, when the news came of Johnson's heart attack. While Duncan read newspapers very slowly, he thought quickly. With the target now President, the whole thing had become political. He had to get out of the country and Australia might no longer represent sanctuary. The Mug was still alive and presumably singing like a magpie. Even though Duncan hadn't used his passport name with the Mug, presumably the 'Donald' identity had been hopelessly compromised. Duncan searched the secret compartment of his suitcase for his other false passport. Here. 'Duncan'. That would do. A good Scottish name. He thought about his next destination. Thank goodness Eddie had established diplomatic relations with China. The Americans were unlikely to have an extradition treaty with them. He wondered if he could learn to use chopsticks at his time of life.

Jimmy had finished packing for Peggy and himself, and was enjoying one last pipe of the evening in the designated room at Number 10. He'd be out of the country for the next few days so he felt a final need to check on the shop, to see how everything was going. He switched on the wireless. "Hi! I'm Tony Blackburn and this is Kapital Radio! A copy of Leo Trotsky's The New Course to the first caller who can name the group singing this big hit!       You, to me       Are sweet as roses in the morning       And you, to me       Are soft as summer rain at dawn, in love       we share[2] That something rare       The sidewalks in the street       The concrete and the clay beneath my feet       Begins to crumble       But love will never die       Because we'll see the mountains tumble       Before we say goodbye       My love and I will be       In love eternally       That's the way       Mmm, that's the way it's meant to be.[3] Jimmy was pleased as he switched the wireless off. His directive was being followed. 'Leon' sounded so foreign to British ears - the name seemed almost Spanish. 'Leo' was a name that was much more identifiable.[4]

(Tuesday, 29 April 1971) Bobby was determined to make sense of this before the foreign mourners - especially the UK contingent - arrived. Although 'mourners' wasn't the right word. Thursday would no be so much about grieving as diplomacy. There would be dozens of little conversations few of which Lyn, now sadly departed, would be the subject. The thought of Lyn's funeral on Thursday brought back a memory of yesterday's service.       And there's another country, I heard of long ago,       Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know... Hank entered the Oval Office, right on 9:30, and the spell was broken. He was accompanied by James Rowley, the Head of the Secret Service. "Good morning, Hank, Jim." "Mr President," they chorused. "Jim, what's the latest word on Senator Goldwater's shooting?" "Tests show the prisoner's gun was not even fired, sir. We are looking for a suspect who did the actual shooting - we have little evidence of identity but strong circumstantial evidence to link him to Jimmy Hoffa." "Hoffa was behind this? Did he have a gripe against Goldwater?" "Negative and negative Mr President. Our prisoner was not hired by Hoffa or his associates. And the target was not the late Senator but you, sir." I'm the target and Hoffa's not behind it. How about that, thought Bobby. "So the real gunman didn't hire the patsy?" "No sir, we have another suspect, using the name Donald Mills. Believed to be with," Jim consulted his notes, determined to get the name of the country right, "Australian intelligence." "The Australians want to kill me?" Hank intervened, "Mr President, we believe they were acting on instructions from the British SIS." "But this is just getting crazier. Why would the Limeys want to kill me? "Fiji, Mr President," said Hank, sombrely. "Hank, what the hell happened over Fiji? I know I gave the order to arm the rebels but I assumed that would have been countermanded when Lyn changed our policy. In any event, I only intended the arms to be used in the peace talks as a bargaining chip, as a way of preventing conflict." "Mr President, I only knew of the arms plan after the event. McCone was keeping things close to his chest." "But he must have told Lyn what he was doing?" Jim passed over a memorandum, "The Secretary of State has already seen this. It is a memorandum from the Director of the CIA to the late President. We found it among the paper's on the President's desk. We are not sure if he ever read it." Bobby tried to read it. His eyes were watering by the time he reached "...in the direction of badness..." but he persevered. "If Lyn did read this, without any background knowledge, he wouldn't have been any the wiser." Hank nodded, "This is what we find." There was a brief pause then Hank pressed on, "But the British government believe you were responsible for the arms and the deaths of the Prince and the other soldiers. They also believe you were responsible for attempt on Prime Minister Powell's life." Bobby shot a look at Hank. It had been Bobby that had saved Hank's ass over that snafu but it looked like the good deed had nearly come back to bite Bobby on his own ass. "Well, if they're trying to kill me we can escalate. It's the Boston way." Hank held up a cautionary hand, "No one doubts your manhood, Mr President. But you are too valuable to risk losing in a continuing vendetta." Jim nodded as Hank continued, "Rather than escalation we need to negotiate a cease-fire. Perhaps Thursday would be ideal." Bobby nodded. His mind was already moving forward. "McCone is past it. We should get rid of both him and Hoover at the same time. A clean sweep." Henry looked alarmed, "Your predecessor, Mr President, thought it best to have Mr Hoover inside the tent." Booby growled, "If Edgar can't be continent the best position is for him outside the tent. Preferably lying prone." Once the Senate had confirmed the Attorney General-designate, Teddy would clean house. Or tent.

(Thursday, 1 May 1971) After the service the distinguished foreign guests were invited back to the White House. Once Peggy and Jim arrived Hank glided up and detached the Foreign Secretary. To no particular surprise Peggy found herself talking to Bobby. "My husband is in radio," Peggy began. Bobby smiled. She continued, "And there is a song he sometimes sings, 'We can't go on this way, with suspicious minds.'" When he was in the bath Jimmy usually followed with "'Cause I love you too much baby, ooh ooh, ooh ooh, o-ooh o-ooh!" But this wasn't pertinent to the point Peggy was making.

Jim had long wanted to talk to Hank but he still had a curiosity about what Peggy and Bobby might be saying. He peeked over his shoulder to the other corner of the room where the two heads of government were in conversation. Well, not 'conversation' really. Peggy seemed to be saying something emphatically and Bobby was shaking his head and pointing at Hank. Whatever could she be saying?

Traditionally the First Lady was responsible for Wives Hospitality after state funerals like this. But because this was the 1970s, Caroline had insisted that it be known as Spouses Hospitality instead. Besides, it would make Jimmy feel more included. The other wives had all taken the shopping trip option that Caroline had organized. Jimmy felt he already had enough sandals to see him through the summer so he decided he didn't need to go to the Washington Mall. That left him and Caroline as the only participants at the Spouses Hospitality Luncheon. The long and mostly empty table at Blair House made conversation slightly strained. "Nice place, Caroline," said Jimmy, looking around and breaking the ice. "Normally it's the Vice President's resident," Caroline explained. "We only moved out at the weekend. It's vacant until Bobby names his new deputy." "Oh, do tell!" Jimmy could never resist gossip. "Well, 1964 showed we couldn't take the South for granted," said Caroline. Jimmy nodded. Even in Britain racists would sometimes vote for right-wing parties. Caroline pressed on, "We won them back in '68 but Lyn had to campaign hard - pull out the stops." "Oh, dear," said Jimmy, his mind racing ahead, "Bobby's not going to pick some Southern governor with an over-developed Adam's apple and only one tooth, is he?" "No, apparently the leading candidate for the job is a nuclear scientist of some sort." Jimmy was surprised. In Britain most politicians and top civil servants were generalists. MAs or at worst lawyers and doctors. Scientists and engineers were mostly the leadership in Eastern Bloc countries - one of the things that gave Communism a bad name. Jimmy ceased his musing when he saw Caroline was close to tears. "What's wrong, old girl?" he asked sympathetically. "Oh Jimmy! How I envy you!" This was the first time Jimmy had heard anyone say that to him since the mid-60s. Gently, he asked for more information. "You have your own independent career," said Caroline. Jimmy thought about this. It was true. Every post he had held - Foreign Secretary, Director-General of the BBC, had been something he had won on his own merits. "And I'm... I'm just Bobby's wife." "Steady on, Caroline. You're married to the most powerful man on Earth. Not every one of us can say that." "But you're married to Peggy. And while she's a... a... while she has her faults she won high office with an uncompromising commitment to Socialism and the class struggle. But Bobby..." "Wasn't Bobby strong on the campaign to liberate Ireland?" "He was. He still is," said Caroline. Jimmy didn't understand this second sentence so he let it go through to the 'keeper. She said, "But everything else recently, Secretary of State, Vice President, he's just been given that because it's politically convenient, because of the family name. Sometimes I think he's just a pragmatist." Jimmy felt a second 'steady on' was in order. "Steady on, old girl. That's a terrible thing to say about anyone. Isn't Bobby continuing with Lyn's High Society thingy?" "The Great Society? Oh yes. But that's just band-aiding the corrupt hulk of oppressive capitalism when he should be pulling the whole rotten structure down. Starting with those one-toothed governors you mentioned, Jimmy. That's what Peggy would do!" Caroline managed a smile at her own words. "Not that we have Governors in Britain," observed Jimmy, "But there's a few councils that wouldn't be missed." Caroline smiled again. Not for the first time she wondered what if. What if she and Jimmy had really hit it off at Oxford? Oh, they mightn't be married to world leaders but would their hypothetical selves even miss that? And then the staff came to clear the plates. The other wives were almost due to return and the next room had to be set up for afternoon coffee. It was time to return to reality. [If you'll just let me continue.]

[1] In our timeline Albert had been a friend of Barry's for 50 years and said the same prayer at the 1998 funeral service. Unlike our timeline Albert has not yet become All Saint's Rabbi-in-residence at this point in the Thaxted story. [2] Or "Are soft as summer in that dawning love we share". The debate continues while some sites, such as http://www.guitarists.net/tab/view.cfm/id/29983/mirror/all.html sit on the fence with "Are soft as summer [unintelligible] in love we share". [3] Composed by Eddie Rambeau. But 'Unit 4+2' is the answer Tony is seeking. [4] There is a ripple effect from Jimmy's directive. In the Thaxted timeline Leo Blair will never have a grandson named after him as the moniker will be considered distinctly off-message.