Roosevelt chuckled. “Good grief. I assume he had them beheaded or something appropriate.”

“Hardly. Even he would never do that to those of his own class. No, he would have banished his critics. They later softened the blow by acknowledging that affairs of state and the need to run an empire had doubtless prevented him from keeping his military skills up to date.”

“He accepted that?”

Patrick laughed at the memory. “Like a child being forgiven a minor transgression and allowed to play outside again. Gentlemen, the kaiser is a very immature fellow, in many ways just a forty-year-old child. A very dangerous child, however. He is the absolute ruler of a militaristic state, and the military supports him utterly. Some people may think him ludicrous, but not his generals. To them he is the descendant of Frederick the Great, and they think he will lead them to glory. Bloody glory.”

Roosevelt started to say something, but McKinley shushed him. “Tell me about their army.”

“Sir, it is huge-almost half a million men on active service with again as many in reserve. It is modern, efficient, and brutal.”

“Brutal?”

“Yes, sir, brutal.” He told them that although he’d been impressed with the army as a whole, it was their behavior in China that had stunned him, even sickened him.

“Sir, they were told by that same childlike Kaiser Wilhelm that they were being sent to China to save white men and women from the evils of the yellow race. The kaiser told them that the Chinese were descendants of the Huns and his soldiers should remember that, and be even more brutal than the Huns in order to impress them with German superiority.”

McKinley was clearly shocked. “And that is how they behaved?”

“Yes, sir. Their command was furious that the siege of the legations in Peking was over when they arrived, so they amused themselves with punitive marches about the countryside. Sir, they burned, looted, raped, and murdered! It was barbarism, it was savagery, and it was inhuman! And it was so unnecessary. The rebellion was over and all they did was slaughter innocent peasants.”

Patrick sagged back in his chair at the memory of the stacked dead, the maimed, and the black smoke pouring from the pitiful Chinese hovels while the survivors wailed and screamed. “It was then I decided that my continued presence in China served no earthly purpose, so I requested permission from our attaché in Peking to leave.”

McKinley nodded solemnly. “And well you did. And these obscene orders came from your charming friend the kaiser?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Major, is he capable of further erratic behavior?”

“President McKinley, he is a person who is extremely willful, and he can be totally irresponsible. It may be that power has corrupted him. It is a tragedy that he is in total control of a country as strong and militaristic as Germany. There are no checks on him. Their parliament, the Reichstag, has no real power.”

Patrick paused and took a deep breath. What was the saying-in for a penny, in for a pound? “Is he capable of something erratic and tragic? Yes, gentlemen, without question. He is capable of something as gigantic as declaring war on the United States and launching an invasion if he thought he’d been insulted.”

There was silence in the room. McKinley and Roosevelt stared at him. Finally the president spoke, his voice icy and calm. “I thought you said you knew nothing about your summons here.”

Now I’ll tell them, he thought. “Mr. President, while waiting and biding time before this meeting, I had a most unusual conversation.”

In a rush, Patrick told of his meeting with Ian Gordon and his friend’s prediction that an invasion of the United States was not only imminent, but would occur that very night.

When he finished, the silence in the room could have been cut with the proverbial knife. McKinley looked gray and pale; his hands gripped the edge of his desk so that the knuckles turned white. Roosevelt ’s reaction was almost ludicrous. His mouth was open and, set as it was in his round face, he looked like a nearsighted fish. His pince-nez had tumbled from the bridge of his nose and dangled about his waist.

“Nonsense,” Roosevelt rasped as he finally got his breath. “ Cuba. It has to be Cuba. Great God, Cuba ’s what they want, isn’t it?”

Patrick shook his head. “I can only tell you what Mr. Gordon told me- New York City.”

When Roosevelt started to argue further, McKinley shushed him. He then rose and turned his back on them, and stared out the window before responding.

“There are several things that concern me,” commented McKinley. “The most obvious question is whether or not the information is true. If it is true, then why are the British informing us? Again, if true, and the invasion is tonight, how long have they had that information? It seems just a little too convenient that such a discovery should occur and we should be told with just enough time left on the clock for us to be grateful for the information yet unable to do much about it.”

He turned and confronted them. His mouth was set in anger and his jaw outthrust. “And if it is the truth, then the action by Germany is an outrage. We shall thank Great Britain and not look a gift horse in the mouth. I do believe they truly want us to have the information as an indication that they are not in the German’s camp. We shall also respect their desire for secrecy.”

“Sir.” Roosevelt ’s voice was almost a wail. “ New York is my home. What shall we do?”

Even Patrick was surprised. Usually strong, confident, almost arrogant, Theodore Roosevelt suddenly looked lost. McKinley patted the younger man’s shoulder.

“Theodore, what we shall do is what we can. First, should we notify the governor of New York? The mayor? Sadly, I think not. First, we don’t know if the information is indeed true. If it is not, then we shall have initiated a panic and made ourselves look like fools. If it is true, what can we accomplish in the few hours left to us?”

The president walked out of the cabinet room and across the hall to the war room with the others following. Inside, Patrick stared at the maps on the walls with pins still stuck in them to designate units in combat in Cuba and the Philippines. There was also a large map of the United States.

“Again,” the president continued, “if the Germans do attack New York, precisely where shall it be? Major, with polite deference to my esteemed vice president, I believe you are the true professional among us. What are your thoughts regarding what they specifically might do?”

Patrick walked to the map and stared at the East Coast, focusing on New York harbor.

“Sir, the message said the goal of the attack would be New York City. I do not believe that necessarily meant the attack would be directly upon the city. Frankly, I think they would consider it foolish and risky to get involved in a street fight while attempting to land directly onto the piers.

“If I were the Germans, I would land either on the New Jersey coast or Long Island and advance overland to take the city, or that portion of it they feel will give them effective control. If you wish my specific opinion, they will land limited forces on Long Island, as the British did in the Revolution, and advance to a point where they can dominate the harbor, seize some docks, and deposit the remainder of their forces, their artillery, and their supplies.”

McKinley nodded, then glanced at Roosevelt, who concurred. Patrick was gratified to see that the younger man had regained his composure.

“Theodore, I believe the major’s outline makes sense.”

“It does, sir. It is also remarkably similar to what we did in Cuba, landing at a smaller town and marching overland to Santiago.”

“Which, gentlemen,” said the president, “brings us back to the case at hand. Specifically, what do we do?”