“Two more things,” Sam said. “Agent LaCouture told me to tell you to contact Randall at Party headquarters in Concord. That something is on tomorrow night and you would know what that means. Do you?”
Hanson’s face seemed to lose color. “Yeah. Yeah, I know what that means. Shit. You and everyone else in the department… we have a dirty job set for tomorrow night.”
From the bleak look on Hanson’s face, Sam knew what was going to happen. The long-rumored and long-threatened crackdown on refugees was about to begin.
“What time?” Sam asked.
Hanson scribbled something in his notepad. “Probably early evening. Damn. Okay, you said two things. What’s next?”
“Sean Donovan. He’s been arrested by the FBI. Do you know why?”
“Not my business and not yours,” Hanson said. “Donovan was taken into federal protective custody two days ago. That’s all I can say.”
“And Leo Gray? Picked up by the Interior Department the other day?”
“Same answer. Not your business. You’ve got enough to do.”
“But Sean Donovan and Leo Gray, they work for you, work for the department, can’t you—”
Hanson glared at him. “Right now I have the bigname correspondents from the radios and the newsreels wanting a piece of me, the governors of two states, the FBI, the Gestapo, the German diplomatic corps and the State Department and the President’s people in D.C. and Concord. If you think I’ve got time to worry about a file clerk and a rookie cop, you’re seriously wrong. They’ve both been charged with federal offenses, it’s nothing I can fix, that’s it. None of us are above being rousted by the feds if they’re in the mood for trouble. Got it, Inspector?”
Sam tasted ashes in his mouth. “Got it, sir.”
“Good. Remember, you’re liaison, so if the FBI and the Gestapo are finished with you, go on home and get some rest. Check in with them tomorrow and see what they want.”
“And what might that be?”
“How in hell should I know?” Hanson exploded. “If they want you to strip naked and dance the Charleston in Market Square, do it! If they want you to fly to Hollywood and bring back Mae West for the Führer’s entertainment, do that, too!”
Sam got up and left without another word. So much going on, so very much, and right now he was late for dinner.
Outside of the police station, there was a crowd of people trying to come in, trying to be seen. There were a few children holding the hands of a mother or a father, crying, not wanting to be here on such a cold night. Under a streetlight, watching with amusement, stood another squad of Long’s Legionnaires.
INTERLUDE VI
In the dirt-floor basement, once again, Curt spread a set of cards and papers on the table. He examined them and said, “Damn fine job. Ralph did great with the photos, but my compliments to whoever finished this.”
Curt grunted. “I’ll make sure to pass that along if any of us make it alive through the next week.”
Up above, the cellar door opened and the man from before, Vince, clumped down the stairs, carrying a long cardboard box that said FRESH FLOWERS in a pretty script. Vince put the box on the table. “There you go. As promised.”
He pulled the box over, lifted the top. Inside was a long object wrapped in brown paper and twine. He pulled it out, undid the twine, and unwrapped the paper. A bolt-action rifle with attached telescopic sight was revealed, along with a small paper sack. Inside the sack were six rifle cartridges.
Curt said, “Do you recognize it? Will it work?”
He felt the cool metal and smooth wood of the rifle. “Sure. It’s a U.S. Army model 1903 .30-06 rifle. Nice and accurate. Holds eight rounds. Has a sweet Weaver 2.5 scope. Will do the job perfectly.” He picked it up, worked the action, held it up to the light. Nice light sheen of oil, no rust or specks of debris.
“Well?” Vince asked.
“As advertised,” he said. “Good job.”
“You know, I can still deliver it if you’d like, won’t be a problem at all, and—”
He put the rifle down, got up, and kicked out with his good leg, catching Vince at the back of the knees. Vince fell hard to the dirt. He rolled him over and put his knee at the base of the man’s spine, reached down to the man’s chin and top of his head, twisted, and pulled. There was a dull crack, a spasm of his legs, and that was that.
He stood, brushed his hands together. Curt said sharply, “Damn it to hell! Was that really necessary?”
“Afraid it was,” he said. “He wouldn’t give up trying to find out where I wanted the rifle stashed. I think he was a snitch. And whoever he’s working for… they only know I have the rifle. They don’t know where it’s going to end up.”
Curt said, “Think or know he’s a snitch?”
He remembered the other night, seeing Vince entering a nice new sedan. “Know.”
“Suppose you’re wrong?”
“Then he died for his country.”
Curt seemed to struggle with that for a moment. Then he said, “Now what?
He went back to the rifle and cartridges, and in a few moments, everything was back in the flower box. He handed it over to Curt. “You leave now, and soon as you can, put it where I want it, along with one or two other things. But you need to make sure you’re not followed. You’re smart enough, you’ve been at this long enough, but Curt—you can’t be followed.”
“I won’t be followed.”
“One more thing,” he said. “Once you make the delivery, get the hell out of town. Don’t come back home. Don’t go to anyone you know, any place you’ve been before. Just get in the car, pick a compass point, and start driving.”
Curt looked at him, his eyes moist. “You… you think you can do this?”
“I was born in a revolutionary town,” he said, trying to put confidence in his voice. “I can do it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
At home, Toby had gone to bed and Sarah was in the kitchen, slicing up some cold roast beef from last Sunday’s dinner as fried potato pancakes splattered and sang in the frying pan. She had on a light blue cotton dress, and her white apron was snug around her hips. She turned, a length of hair falling across her face, smiling at him.
He remembered a cold fall day back in ’31 when he came off a muddy field, football helmet in hand, and for whatever reason that day, he saw that face, saw that smile, and instantly knew he would do almost anything to see it again.
“Sorry I didn’t call, tell you I was going to be late,” he said.
“I understand,” she said, turning back to the stove. “I heard over the radio what’s going on. My word, Sam, President Long and Adolf Hitler, coming to our town. I can’t believe it.”
He shrugged off his coat, took off his hat, and deposited them in the front closet along with his revolver and holster. “Believe it. It’s going to happen, and this place is going to be a zoo for the next week.”
Back in the kitchen, he came up behind her, grasped her slim hips, and kissed the back of her neck. Sarah made a quick purring noise, like a cat happy for the attention, and she leaned back up against him, her buttocks warm against his groin.
“I’m going to be helping the zookeepers,” he told her. “I’m now the liaison between the police department and the FBI. As things happen, it’s the same FBI guy from before, the one on my John Doe case. Accompanied by his German secret-police buddy.”
He kissed her again and went to the sink to wash his hands. Sarah said, “So what does that mean for you?”