Chapter 8

Just as Frank was to leave for New York City, two men from the British Embassy approached him. They wore dark woolen suits, sported derbys, and had handle bar moustaches. Both had badges on their lapels as if they slueths.

"Mr, Maloue?" one of them asked.

"Who are you?" Frank replied.

"This is Mr. Jeffery Lyons and I'm Nigel Woodhouse. We represent the British Embassy," Woodhouse introduced themselves. "Would you kindly accompany us to the Embassy?"

"What is this all about?"

"We cannot tell you. To be honest, we have absolutely no idea. We were only sent to take you to the Ambassador. You will learn when you talk to one of the assistance's. Leave these bags in the lobby and we will make sure that they get to the train station on time for you to catch your ride."

Frank felt uncomfortable sitting in the back seat of the automobile with the two agents perched quietly in front. No words were exchanged between the trio of men. He thought it odd that they didn't ask anything about him. He felt that the Ambassador might have a dossier of him. After all he was very rich, successful in business, and able to be a pleasant man among his associates. What he didn't know that there were paragraphs of him having mistresses and having a lustful appetite for women.

The ride was a short one. Fifteen minutes. The car pulled onto the grounds of the British Embassy and pulled to a stop in front of the stair of the main entrance. He was greeted by an army officer with a big smile and a gap between his front teeth.

"Mr. Maloue," the officer saluted and held out his hand to shake.

"Why am I here?" Frank inquired, shaking the man's hand. The car pulled away and with it the two agents that brought him.

"Why don't we allow Ambassador Banks tell you." the officer grinned then led him inside. They walked the marble stairs to the second floor where the office were. As soon as he arrived, a short plump woman ushered him right in to Ambassador Philip Smart.

"Ahhh, Mr. Maloue," Smart grinned, offering his hand. "So good of you to drop by. Sorry for the short notice but we wanted to have a chat with you before you left for America. It would be a shame to pass this along to our consulate in New York."

"Pleased to meet you," Frank shook his hand. "I have no idea why I was brought here. It seems you were in a hurry to get to me."

"Have a seat," Smart sat himself. "The reason I had you come here is due to this cablegram we recently received from London."

"London?" he took the proffered document. He read it twice because he did not believe what he read at the first time. "I'm being drafted?"

"Yes you are. You are a British citizen and the war in France is not going as well as we expected. The Germans hold the most advantageous territory in many places making it impossible to break through. We are calling up all of our important men. Even some royals are asked to volunteer as an example. You have been given the rank of major and sent to France under General John French's staff.

Frank's face froze in anger. One thing he didn't want to do is fight in this war where there were over fifty percent of deaths and injuries. Men in trenches didn't know when they awoke would be their last day on earth. Casualties on both sides were the highest in history. It made the Battle of the Wilderness in the American Civil War look like a turkey shoot by comparison. "When will I have to report?" he asked, knowing that showing his anger toward the ambassador would do him no good.

"I'd say in a month or so. We know you have many projects in the Colonies and you will be granted at least thirty days to clean things up then be ready to report as soon as possible."

"I'm going back overseas to be a soldier," he told Gwen as they rode the train to New York. It bothered him that he had to fight in this damned war all over the killing of some Archduke in Serbia. He felt that cooler heads should have sense over this misdeed. Surely that man Princip had been executed for killing one of the royals of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Everyone was wanting war including his own British Empire.