"Yet they're sabotaging it."
"That is not a conclusion I am willing to jump to," Smith cautioned, letting the line hang empty for a long breath, "unless there exist factors I do not know. I am forced to conclude that this is an operation designed to embarrass Montreal."
"I can think of only one place that could be coming from," said the President.
"Ottawa," said Smith.
"I think I might give the prime minister up there a courtesy call."
"I would be discreet," Smith warned.
"I don't have time for discreet. I'm going to ask him flat out what's going on."
"That would not be diplomatic."
"Maybe not," the President said tightly, "but if I can head off a fishing war by scaring the starch out of Ottawa, I think that would be a good thing. What could go wrong?"
"Anything," Smith said quickly, but since his role was advice not consent on these matters, that was all he would say.
The President thanked Smith and hung up.
When he got back down to the Oval Office, the President of the United States asked his personal secretary to place a call to Ottawa. Politically this was a matter that required a certain guarded tact, a calculated finesse. But this was neighborly, diffident, good-natured Canada. He'd just go boo, and they'd scurry for cover like a possum under a porch.
THE PRIME MINISTER of Canada was happy to take the call from the President of the United States. He exchanged convivial greetings and pleasantries of the day. Then the President's voice turned vaguely steely.
"I have a report on my desk of a Canadian submarine that fired upon a Coast Guard vessel. We had to sink it. No choice. We realized it was yours only after it had gone down."
"Our submarine. What vessel?"
"I'd only mangle the French, but the English translation is Proud to be Frogs."
The fiber-optic line was deathly silent. "Mr. President, have you been-how shall I put this-imbibing?"
"You have subs in your navy bearing French names?" the President questioned.
"We do. But-"
"Your sub is on the Atlantic floor," the President went on in a cool tone. "This office will convey formal regrets, of course. But I want it perfectly understood that such aggressive Canadian naval maneuvers will not be tolerated."
"We have not been aggressive!" the prime minister exploded.
"Then if that wasn't your sub, you have nothing to worry about," the President said.
"It was not, and we are not concerned. Except for the regrettable loss of life, of course."
"Down here we call that deniability."
"And up here we call it poppycock," the prime minister said, his voice tense.
"Well, whatever the truth is, you and I understand each other clearly. Isn't that right?"
"We," the prime minister said tightly, "understand ourselves only too well. Thank you for the courtesy call. Good day to you, Mr. President."
"Have a good one," the President returned in an unconcerned voice.
The call terminated with simultaneous clicks, and in the Oval Office, the President of the United States leaned back in his chair and breathed out a cool release of air. It felt good to do that. No point in letting anyone push him around now. Not even friendly, forgiving, top trading partner to the end, Canada.
Chapter 20
In Ottawa the prime minister of the Dominion of Canada replaced the office telephone with an expression on his face like that of a man who had his lips seared unexpectedly by a friendly kiss.
Tapping his desk intercom, he snapped, "Get the minister of fisheries on the line."
"Yes, sir."
The phone lit up a moment later, and the intercom said, "Fisheries Minister Houghton on line 3, Mr. Prime Minister."
"Thank you," he said, punching the lighted button and snapping the handset to his displeased face.
There was snow on the ground, and the Rideau Canal was frozen solid, much to the delight of ice skaters. The Winterlude Festival, with its influx of tourists, was now a pleasant memory. This made what he was about to do more practicable. No loss in upsetting the free-spending Yanks after their dollars had been dispersed into the Canadian economy.
"I have just had a peculiar call from the United States President," the prime minister said in his distinctive French-Canadian accent.
"Yes?"
"He called to warn me that a submarine of ours fired on a U.S. Coast Guard vessel. He was forced to sink it, he said."
"A submarine of ours?"
"So he claims. I know nothing of any lost submarine. Do you?"
"No."
"He claimed the name translates as Proud to be Frogs. Ring a bell?"
"Of course not. There is no such vessel in our fleet."
"He was very curt with me."
"It sounds as if he were," the fisheries minister agreed.
"I did not care for his tone of voice. It reminded me of the Spanish."
"Those philistines."
"I think there should be a response. Measured but pointed. Will you see to it?"