Russian Amerika: Chapter Sixty One

61 - Columbia, Ohio, Capitol of the U.S.A.

    Colonel Konstine Kronov, seemingly oblivious of the motion-picture camera, grinned widely at Major Douglas. Both men, now slightly drunk, had dropped formalities some days before.

    "But, Konni, why doesn't the Czar modernize Alaska?"

    "It's my theory he has a secret agenda, James," Kronov said carefully, struggling tipsily with English. "An economically viable Alaska would pose the same threat that the Indians are currently pressing. By themselves, however, they do not have the political and military clout to make the transition to a true republic."

    "You don't think they can win this fight?"

    "Not alone." Kronov leered and tossed back more vodka. "And if you or any of the other NATO members assist them, you are risking a full-fledged war on this continent, and perhaps Europe as well."

    "Why would the Czar fight a war over Alaska?"

    "Would not your president fight a war over Pennsylvania? Wouldn't the French fight over Quebec?"

    "Ask the British," Douglas said.

    "Pah! The British," Kronov said with a rude laugh. "Let them posture all they wish, who else would want it? But France still owns Quebec."

    Major Douglas opened his mouth then pursed his lips without speaking. He regarded Kronov with stony eyes for a long moment before continuing. "The Czar hasn't developed Alaska. He's kept it in the nineteenth century for ninety years longer than any other part of North America. Why would he fight for it at this late date?"

    "Do you really believe that a mere colonel, who happens to be a distant cousin, has the ear of Czar Alexander? What his majesty wishes and doesn't wish is of paramount consequence to me, but there's damn all I can do about it, nyet?" Kronov tossed back another inch of vodka.

    "Why do you think the Czar will fight for Alaska?" Douglas persisted.

    "Because he thinks he can sell it," Kronov said airily. "Just as his great grandfather attempted to do in the 1860s."

    "To keep it from being absorbed by Canada," Douglas said triumphantly.

    "British Canada," Kronov corrected.

    "Then," Douglas' face became animated and his eyes wetly caught the light, "do you believe he could be bought off?"

    "Good question, Major. But who would do the buying, and more importantly, who's willing to be bought?"

    Douglas blinked owlishly before recovering. "Nobody would be bought. But a nation might be aided financially by its neighbors."

    Kronov laughed so hard his eyes watered.

    "What's so damned funny?"

    "You, you Yankees. You still think you're the only ones in the world who have a brain or know how to use it." Kronov's countenance went steely. "One of the most unsavory parts of being a Russian is knowing that our forefathers of the 1850s allowed themselves to be allied to you inept losers in your short civil war."

    "You can relax now." Douglas shot to his feet, his lips a firm line. "I think we're through for today."

    Two Rangers eased into the room and stood on either side of Kronov.

    The Russian stood and gave Douglas an exaggerated bow. "My thanks for the excellent vodka. Next time we should have bourbon, to which I'm sure you are more accustomed."

    Douglas nodded, turned sharply on the balls of his feet and marched over to the door.

    "Good luck on your Indian purchase," Kronov called gaily as the door slammed.