Ministro sin Carpeta Tim Harrigan stepped from the carriage that had just drawn up in front of the Embassy of Imperial Germany. The conveyance had been sent to his residence after he accepted an invitation by His Excellency Dietrich von Wurthardt the German ambassador to the Mexican Republic.
Harrigan, followed by the faithful Fidel, walked to a gate in a wrought iron fence where an elaborately uniformed guard stood. The soldier opened the entrance, gesturing for Harrigan and Fidel to continue to a massive front portal. The large door opened and a dapper young gentleman, bowed respectfully. “Welcome, Minister Harrigan. The ambassador is awaiting you.”
“Thank you,” the guest replied. “I was rather surprised at the invitation.”
“His Excellency will provide a full explanation,” the diplomat assured him. “I am afraid your man must remain here.”
“Understood,” Harrigan replied.
Fidel worriedly watched as his patron was escorted out of sight across the foyer. Harrigan was taken up a flight of stairs, down a hall and finally to the ambassador’s office. His escort knocked and led the Irishman inside. “Minister Harrigan has arrived, Your Excellency.” With that curt announcement, he turned and retraced his steps down the hall.
Ambassador Dietrich von Wurthardt got up from his chair and walked around his desk with an outstretched hand. “I am most pleased to see you again, Minister Harrigan” he said in English.
“Likewise,” Harrigan replied. “I must admit I’m a bit curious about your kind invitation.”
The ambassador gestured to a tray bearing a bottle of German Riesling wine and four glasses. “First things first,” Von Wurthardt said with a friendly smile.
Harrigan counted the glasses. “Is someone going to join us, Your Excellency?”
“Yes,” Von Wurthardt replied. “I want you to brace yourself to be astonished, Minister. You are about to be informed of a situation most secret. And I guarantee it will shock you to the core of your soul.”
“Well!” Harrigan exclaimed with a slight smile. “I cannot wait to be shocked to the core of my soul. Just what—“
He was interrupted when two men stepped into the room. One was a stern looking individual. He was not in uniform, but displayed a decidedly military bearing. He sported a carefully trimmed mutton chop beard and his hair was thinning slightly. Heavy eyebrows arched over blue eyes and the expression on his face was something between arrogance and impatience.
The second man was Colonel Juan-Carlos Valenzuela.
Harrigan was confused by his presence. “You’re a long way from San Patricio.”
“Indeed I am, Tim.” He indicated the other man. “I have the honor of introducing Major General Karl von Richtberg of the Imperial German Army.”
“I am honored, sir,” Harrigan said.
Valenzuela turned to the general. “I am pleased to introduce you to one of the most important men in the highest financial circles of the Mexican Republic. This is Timothy Harrigan.”
The ambassador poured the wine into each glass. “I shall be the waiter this afternoon since we must have only authorized persons in this part of the embassy. There are even guards at each end of the corridor outside to ensure our privacy.” He picked up a glass and held it high. “To the war against the United States of America.”
Harrigan gazed in wide-eyed surprise. “I…I don’t understand.”
The ambassador interrupted. “Let us resume our seats while I bring you up to date, Minister Harrigan.”
Harrigan glanced at the somber general then back at the smiling ambassador. “How did you find out about the Mexican Army’s plans to invade America?”
“Ha!” General von Richtberg snorted.
“My dear Minister Harrigan,” Von Wurthardt said. “The Mexican Army knows absolutely nothing about any planned conflict with the United States. The Mexican Army also knows absolutely nothing about the raids being made by the sons and grandsons of veterans of the Saint Patrick’s Battalion. The Mexican Army knows absolutely nothing about…well, absolutely nothing.” He turned to Valenzuela. “Would you care to divulge the facts to Minister Harrigan?”
The Mexican colonel declared, “It is the Army of Imperial Germany that is planning a war against America. There are certain elements in the Mexican military that are included in the grand plan, but not the upper echelons. Obviously I am part of the plot.”
General von Richtberg said, “There is a German invasion force in Spanish Cuba that will be secretly transported to Mexico when the time is right.”
“My God!” Harrigan exclaimed. “When will the time be right?”
“As soon as the American Army sends some detachments to deal with the raids on the border,” the general informed him. “Certain members of the Mexican government—whom we have bribed most generously—will claim the Americans are violating this nation’s sovereignty and His Excellency here will offer military aid to Mexico. That is where the invasion force comes in. It will be a sudden, overwhelming attack that the small U.S. Army cannot defeat.”
Harrigan was skeptical. “The American Army isn’t large, I admit, but how will you get enough German soldiers over here to defeat them?”
Von Richtberg laughed. “We have conscription in Germany. The one thing we do not have to worry about is strength in numbers. And German lads make good soldiers. They obey orders faithfully. Even blindly, I might add. When told to attack; they attack!”
Harrigan was still dubious. “You cannot possibly conquer the entire United States of America.”
Ambassador von Wurthardt chuckled. “We don’t expect to take over all of the United States. Just those lands they took away from Mexico. I am speaking of Texas, New Mexico, California, etcetera, etcetera.”
“When that is done,” said the general, “and a significant force of the German Army is occupying the area, His Imperial Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm the Second will declare Mexico a protectorate of the German Empire. Thus, we will have a strong presence in the western hemisphere.”
“Indeed we shall!” the ambassador exclaimed. “And our good friend Colonel Valenzuela will be declared governor-general of Mexico by the Kaiser.”
Tim Harrigan was stunned and speechless.
Major General Karl von Richtberg actually smiled at the old Irishman. “There will be a high office for you in the colonial government as well. The title in German is Schatzkanzler. In English it is Minister of the Exchequer.” He shrugged. “I do not know the Spanish title.”
Tim gulped audibly, then cleared his throat. “Ministro de Hacienda.”
“Well, well, well,” Ambassador von Wurthardt said after a sip of wine. “Let’s settle down for a long conversations of surprises, revelations and—“ He winked at Tim. “Financial matters.”
Tim suddenly wished the German Riesling wine was Irish whiskey.