The address seemed to promise French benevolence toward American supplicants. Cook was on edge. He had barely slept, his mind cycling through the different ways to explain Joshua’s troubles and ask for Clemenceau’s help. A scratchy, anxious feeling was making him irritable. He worried about the words he should use, the best way to start, the expressions he should place on his face. He wore his good black suit and white shirt with a new Parisian necktie. He knew he would have only a couple of minutes with the French leader. They passed through a small sidewalk crowd that had gathered to watch Clemenceau depart for his day. A tall, bulky army officer answered the door. With a short bow but not a word, he took them straight back to the library, then retreated to a far corner of the room, still silent. Clemenceau sat behind a massive U-shaped desk of gnarled, reddish wood. His sad-looking eyes studied a paper. His white mustache needed trimming. “Gentlemen.” He spoke brusquely, with not much accent.
What do You think about The Wilson Deception (2015)?
