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military and economic resources. It was realistic and well thought out. Unfortunately, the nation would have none of it. They wanted immediate victory; two or three years was far too long to wait.
    Scott’s plan had been derided as overlong and pessimistic. Someone had dubbed it the Anaconda Plan, and the name had stuck. The plan had been tossed away and the Union forces had jubilantly attacked the Confederates at Bull Run, confident in an easy victory that would end the war in one day.
    It had not worked out that way. The Union had endured a smashing defeat, and now the South was being blockaded, and the Union armies in the west were forming for slow advances. By default, the Anaconda Plan was being put into slow, grinding action.
    “You were right, of course, sir.”
    Scott took a swallow of his whiskey. “Sometimes I wish I was wrong. But it does prove that there is nothing wrong with my mind. No, I do not want to command again—that would be folly. I am not senile, or demented, but I am old and do lack the energy of a younger man, and, when I get tired, I get forgetful. No, I do not wish to command. I only wish that Cameron had permitted me a more graceful exit.”
    “What then?”
    “I wish to advise.”
    “McClellan?”
    “Hardly. I doubt the Young Napoleon would take advice from God, although he might presume to give it to the deity.”
    Nathan thought the indictment was a little harsh. McClellan certainly had an enormous ego, but he was still a reasonable man. Or at least the man Nathan had met prior to the war had been a reasonable man.
    “Then who, General?”
    “Lincoln. The president is the commander in chief. He must act like it. He must grow into the position, and he must do so quickly. He must not be dominated by minds like McClellan’s.”
    Nathan understood Scott’s dilemma. He could not openly try to advise his president lest it look like he was undercutting the responsibilities of the new commanding general, George Brinton McClellan. Therefore, Scott wished Nathan to act as a conduit between himself and the president.
    “I see why you weren’t very upset that I hadn’t taken a commission,” Nathan said. “As a civilian, I can move around freely and am not subject to any military officer’s orders.” Scott smiled. “Precisely.”
    Nathan poured himself another inch of whiskey, and then added the same quantity to Scott’s outstretched glass. Despite his lack of confidence in Lincoln, he found himself intrigued. Then he hated himself for realizing that Scott had planned that he would be intrigued. Damn him.
    “Just how do you intend for me to start? I don’t know Mr. Lincoln, or anyone else in the current administration.”
    Scott dismissed that problem. “On Friday, two days from now, there will be a reception, a salon, held by the French embassy. There haven’t been many such parties recently, which means that it will be well attended. Lincoln will not go, as his wife gets lost and confused at such activities. This means that several other key people will not attend because they consider it politically expedient to not do so. There will, however, still be a great number of very important people in attendance, and I wish you to be there as the first step in my scheme. I have arranged for you to be invited to the reception, and I have a short list of people I wish you to contact. In particular, I wish you to meet a Mr. John Hay.”
    “Don’t know him,” Nathan said. He was beginning to feel tired and he yawned hugely. The whiskey on an empty stomach was starting to win.
    Scott ignored it. “John Hay is a very young man, only in his early twenties. He is handsome, bright, diligent, and hardworking. He is also one of Mr. Lincoln’s personal secretaries, an assistant to Mr. Nicolai. I wish you to give Mr. Hay a note from me to Mr. Lincoln. If you assure him that discretion is paramount, he will understand.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Then we wait and see what transpires. It may be days