Gerald Dodge had set up an office in a nondescript building near an elaborate Chinese restaurant. Hart drove the car into an underground garage and the four of them took an elevator to the third floor. The door they entered was labeled ‘Capital City Productions’. Dodge sat behind a sleek black desk, his feet resting on the top, a long, unlit cigar stuck in his mouth bulging out one cheek. The telephone rang as they entered. He laid the cigar in an ashtray and stood. “Boys, we’re glad to see ya,” he greeted them in a down-home kind of drawl. “Have a seat, I’ll be with ya in just a minute. Durn phone won’t let us be." He picked up the phone, "Hail here,” he said, answering the call. After a moment’s silence he said, “We’ll have to get back to ya on that, Mr. Dodge. Right now we’ve got some real important people in the office. I’ll call ya tomorrow.” He hung the receiver up. “Bureaucrats,” he said, shaking his head. “They want everything done yesterday, and can’t do anything on time themselves.” He walked around the desk and offered his hand.
Abe had remained standing, holding his hat in his right hand at his side. He shifted hands. “Mr. Hail,” he said, taking the man’s hand in his. The grip was strong on both their parts.
“Aw, we don’t bother with formalities around here,” Dodge said. “Just call me Marion. We’ve got everything lined up for you, Abraham.” He paused. “You don’t mind me callin’ you Abraham do ya, Mr. Douglas?”
“Abe’s fine. And this is Thomas McDougal.”
“Thomas is sort of an aide to Mr. Douglas,” Chamberlain explained, and Dodge shook his hand.
“As I was sayin’, Abe, we’ve got a lot of people lookin’ forward to your presentation tonight.”
Shorty leaned forward. “Will the President be joinin’ us?” he asked with a look of joyful expectancy on his face.
“As a matter of fact, I talked to him this morning,” Dodge answered. Which was the truth. “And he said he’d do all in his power to come.” Which was a bald-faced lie, but it didn’t show on Dodge’s expression or in his voice. “Either way, the place’ll be loaded. That I can guarantee ya.”
Abe didn’t like the way Hail had emphasized the word ‘loaded’. “Where will the meeting be held?” he asked somberly.
Dodge gave him a broad smile. “You’re goin’ to love it, Abe. Best place in town. Historic and beautifully redone. We thought we’d just surprise you with it. You’re goin’ to love it, I just know you are. Now, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty as they say back home.”
“The ten-thousand dollars?” said Abe.
“That’s what I like,” Dodge said with a laugh. “A man who knows what it’s all about.” He went to the opposite side of the desk and took a large envelope out of a drawer and slid it across to Abe. “Five thousand now and five after the meetin’. That satisfactory to ya?”
Abe eyed the envelope, but Shorty was the one to answer. “Sounds like a proper bargain,” he said, getting up and retrieving the packet.
“You’ll want to count that,” Dodge said. “Make sure a mouse hasn’t got to it.”
“That’d be suitin’ me just fine,” Shorty said and started to open the flap.
Abe stopped him. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, snapping the envelope out of the Irishman’s hands. “I don’t think Mr. Hail would try to cheat us.”
Dodge held a hand up. “Oh, but I insist,” he said, his voice almost demanding. “We’re good but we could make a mistake.”
“The man’s right ya know, Mr. Douglas,” Shorty said, retaking possession of the envelope. He turned to Dodge. “Not that I don’t trust ya, ya understand, but business is business.” Dodge nodded and motioned for him to proceed. Shorty spilled the contents on the desk and began his inventory of the bills.
Abe watched him for a moment then glanced up at the wall clock. It was ten minutes before two. “What time is the meeting,” he asked.
“Eight o’clock,” Dodge answered.
“Where do we stay ‘til then?”
Dodge looked beyond him at Chamberlain and Hart who were standing at ease against the back wall. “We thought ya might enjoy a tour of the city. The boys here volunteered to show ya around, right fellas?”
“Right, Marion,” Hart said almost facetiously. “Anywhere you want to go.”
Abe was going to request a hotel but Shorty had a different agenda in mind. He had finished counting the money. “Five thousand on the nose,” he informed Abe as he folded the envelope into a more manageable size and slipped it into an inside pocket of his jacket. “Do ya think it’d be possible fer us to go to the White House?” he asked Dodge. “I’m thinkin’ it’d be nice to give the president our personal invitation.”
Dodge hesitated for a moment. “I believe he said he would be at Camp David all day. Big meetin’ or somethin’,” he said. Another lie of course, but a plausible one.
“Maybe his wife then,” Shorty persisted.
“I’m pretty sure she’s with him,” Dodge said, and Shorty wilted a little.
“Is there a telegram office in the building?” Abe asked.
Dodge’s face took on some extra wrinkles. “Why?”
“I’d like to wire the money to someone,” Abe said, and Chamberlain coughed loudly like he had choked on something.
Before answering, Dodge shot a glance at Hart who shrugged as much as to say ‘Don’t ask me’. “Ya know,” Dodge said, “I’ve never paid much attention, but I don’t think there’s one here. How about you, Richard? You know if they have a service here?”
“Not in this building,” Chamberlain said, then coughed again just to justify the first one.
Shorty patted his chest. “Ya needn’t fret, Mr. Douglas. It’ll be safe enough here in me pocket. No one but us knows I’ve got it, and I ain’t plannin’ on takin’ me coat off.” Abe shot a quick glare at him but it passed right by as Shorty continued talking. “I’m fer hittin’ the road and lookin’ the town over. Are ya ready?”
“That’s the spirit,” Dodge said with a chuckle in his voice. He put an arm around each of their shoulders and ushered them into the hands of Hart and Chamberlain. “The boys know every good spot in town. They’ll treat ya right, and I’ll be seein’ ya along about eight.” He turned to Chamberlain. “Richard you make sure now that they see all the important places, you hear?”
“Yes Sir,” Chamberlain answered crisply, then quickly changed his tone. “We’ll see you at the meeting then, boss.”
Shorty was asking if they should call a joint session of congress when the four of them exited Mr. Hail’s office.
As soon as the door-latch clicked shut, Dodge opened a desk drawer and switched off his tape recorder then picked up the telephone and dialed his real office. “Stacy. Everything’s a go, how’s the audience shaping up?”
“Unbelievably well,” Stacy answered. “The Academy thing fell through, though. They’ve got a field exercise tonight…”
“That doesn’t sound like good news to me,” Dodge interrupted her gruffly.
“Just hold on,” Stacy said. “I called Marjorie Watts a half-hour ago…”
“At the White House? That Watts?”
“Sir, will you let me finish?”
“Sorry,” Dodge apologized. “Go ahead.”
“Marjorie and I go way back,” Stacy explained. “We’re coffee buds. Anyhow, she put me on hold. She was back in two minutes and told me not to call anyone else. She’d take care of it. When I balked, she told me the First Lady had given her the order.”
“What?”
“Marge wouldn’t go into detail, but it seems the First Lady has some kind of personal vendetta going against your guest speaker.”
Dodge went limp and fell heavily into his chair. “I should have guessed something like this would come up when I first got the call from him. Dammit! So, what’s she going to do? You get any clues from Watts?”
“She carries a lot of weight,” Stacy said, referring to the presid
ent’s wife. “I had just hung up with Marge when you called. I guess the word’s spreading like wildfire. From what she said, you can expect half the city’s big wheels to be there tonight. And, the First Lady, herself.”
“No!” Dodge said as if he didn’t believe it.
“Yes,” Stacy answered seriously.
“Okay, Stacy,” Dodge said with a deep sigh. “Get Adams on the line and patch him through, pronto.”
Adams was the agent Dodge had stationed at the auditorium to head up the security team. In moments Dodge was talking to him. “I wondered what was up,” Adams said when Dodge gave him the news. “The Secret Service just walked in. How do you want me to handle it?”
“Cooperate,” Dodge said. “But let them know the birds are ours. I’ll be in the office in half an hour. If they’ve got any questions they can call me there.”
As the afternoon slipped by and Dodge concerned himself with the new twist brought on by the First Lady, Chamberlain and Hart had their own hands full trying to keep tabs on the two tourists. Abe tried his best at every point of interest to get Shorty off to the side to tell him what he figured they were in for, but the agents never gave him the chance. They hovered around them every step. After the first hour Abe gave up. Shorty wasn’t receptive anyhow. He was far too occupied with the sights and history of the city to pay attention to Abe’s hints that they needed some serious discussion time.
The small group had just exited the Lincoln Memorial and stood looking back at it from the bottom of the steps. “It’s an absolute marvel,” Shorty said, staring up at the immensity of the huge columns. “Like everything we’ve seen today. It’s hard to imagine so much beauty in one place. Yes sir, me old mother would be proud of me travels if she only knew of ‘em.” He turned to the quiet Abe. “It’s been a real excitin’ day hasn’t it, Mr. Douglas?”
“And it’s not over yet,” Abe answered as they all turned toward the parking lot.
“Very true,” said Hart, glancing at his wristwatch. “Who’s for something to eat?”
Shorty glowed. “I’d be all fer that. What do ya say, Mr. Douglas?”
“Fine,” Abe answered.
Shorty turned to Chamberlain. “I’m thinkin’ he’s not over the plane ride yet,” he said as an explanation for Abe’s somberness. He patted Abe’s arm. “But a good dinner’ll be fixin’ ya right up.”
“There’s a nice little mom and pop shop just down the street,” Hart suggested. “Homestyle cooking. You like Italian?”
“Oh, it’s all right,” Shorty said. “But I had somethin’ a little more elegant in mind. Do ya know of a nice place? Sorta on the expensive side.” He patted his chest. “I’m thinkin’ we can afford it.”
Chamberlain shook his head. “Now what kind of hosts would we be if we let you buy your own dinner? No sir, this is all on us. That is, it’s on Marion,” he said, smiling at Hart.
“That’s right,” Hart agreed with a shrug to Chamberlain. “Marion’s not one to spare expenses,” he said with a chortle. “And we know just the place.”
“Would you fellows like to change clothes before dinner?” Chamberlain asked. “You know, put on a suit or something?”
Abe lightened up, thinking this might be his chance to talk to Shorty privately. “Yeah. That would be good. Do we have a hotel to go to?”
Chamberlain grimaced slightly and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “We got a suite for you but it won’t be available ‘til after the meeting. But in the meantime I’m sure Marion would insist that you use his mobile office.” He took a cellphone from his pocket. “Give me a second, I’ll call him. Hart, you guys go on. I’ll meet you at the car.”
Chamberlain was only a couple of minutes behind them when he opened the car door and climbed in beside Hart. “It’s all set, fellows. We’ll make a quick stop at the office for you guys to spruce up a little then head on to the restaurant.” He nodded to Hart. “It’s in area one,” he said, and Hart backed the car out of the parking space.
A mile or so from the Lincoln Memorial, Hart pulled into the shadows at the rear of a federal building and parked alongside a bus-sized motorhome. “This is it,” he said, getting out of the car. The sound of a generator engine hummed from the back and the door was unlocked. “Marion had it warmed up for you so you could take a shower if you wanted to,” he said as they all stepped inside.
Dust covers had been carefully spread over all the equipment on both sides of the aisle leading from the front to the rear leaving only a table, a couch and three chairs uncovered. “The dressing area is in the back,” Chamberlain said, setting their suitcases down and unzipping them. “Everything you need should be there but you’ll have to go one at a time, though. It’s kind of small.”
Abe’s shoulders sagged as his last hope to tell Shorty of their troubles vanished. “I’ll go first, Mr. McDougal,” he said in a dejected tone, and picked out a few things from his case. Within a half-hour they were on their way to dinner.
In Abe’s mind, the restaurant Hart chose had to be the very finest in the city---Victorian, profuse in plush velvet, lead crystal and impeccably dressed servers. He had never seen anything even remotely as elegant. Being early yet for the evening clientele, and after talking on the side to Chamberlain, the maitre’d waived the formal dress code, found Shorty a necktie and seated them. No less than seven waiters glided to their assistance during the several courses of the meal that ended with apple pie, steaming hot and drizzled with dainty streams of swirled caramel. Agents Hart and Chamberlain had stretched the expense account far beyond anything Dodge would have expected. “Marion’s going to be sorry he didn’t join us,” Hart said with a laugh as he dropped a credit card on the leather folder without even looking at the bill---one Abe knew must be astronomical.
Chamberlain chuckled then looked at his watch. “If you fellows are ready,” he said to Abe and Shorty, “I suppose we should be getting on over to the auditorium.” He motioned for a waiter. “I’ll wait for the receipt if you guys want to bring the car up.”
“It was a fine dinner,” Shorty said. “I want ya to know we appreciate it.”
Abe rose from the table. “It was without a doubt the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said sincerely. “I hope we live to see the time when we’ll have another one like it.”
Hart smiled at him. “Shall we go?” he said, falling in behind them as they walked to the door.
Chamberlain dialed Adams on his cellphone. “We’re ten minutes away,” he said.
The dash clock read seven-fifty-one when Hart drove into the alley behind a red-brick building and stopped at a staircase marked ‘Stage Entrance’. Three other cars and a black van were parked just ahead of them. Several chauffeurs were milling around, chatting, smoking and polishing the cars. “Well, this is it,” Chamberlain said. “Doesn’t look like much from out here but you’re going to be impressed when you get inside. Ready?”
“As ever,” Shorty answered, and Abe nodded.
The backstage area seemed to be a jungle of ropes, wires and wooden contraptions of all sizes. Above them, the ceiling took on the look of a skyscraper under construction. A dangerous mass of steel beams and electrical wiring appeared ready to come crashing down at any moment. All of it only added to Abe’s fears that he had made a tragic mistake in dragging himself and McDougal into this situation. But now he had no options. Marion Hail was walking towards them.
Abe didn’t give him the chance to say anything. “Which way is the stage?” he asked.
Dodge motioned to their left. “Right over here,” he said, and walked Abe and Shorty to a wing. The main draperies were drawn open and a simple blue backdrop had been lowered to take up most of the depth of the stage. The audience was in full view. “I’ll just be waitin’ here fer ya, Mr. Douglas,” the Irishman said, then patted Abe’s arm. “Are ya all right, man?”
“I’ll be fine,” Abe said. “I won’t
be long.” He removed his hat, stepped through the opening and walked out to the front center of the stage where a single microphone stood. The murmur of the crowd died out. Abe stood silent for a long moment squinting against the footlights and focusing beyond them at the people who had gathered in this magnificently beautiful theater. Once accustomed to the light, he took in a few deep breaths, prayed for the Lord’s help, then spoke into the microphone.
“I’m not sure I ought to be here,” he started as he nervously rolled and unrolled the brim of his hat. “I’m not even sure the Lord wants me to be here. I forgot to ask Him.” A light sound of hesitant laughter came up from the audience. Abe looked down at his hat. “I’ve been worried all day that I made a terrible mistake. I know there’s people that would like nothing better than to get rid of me. People who think I’m going to bring them some kind of trouble, but they’re wrong,” he said, looking back out over the crowd. “I’m not the one they ought to be worried about. I’m just a simple man who happened to be chosen by the Lord to let you know He’s still around. I don’t know why I was picked out. It’s certainly not because I’ve been good all my life. I haven’t been that. Fact is I’ve done a lot of things that I wish now I hadn’t. I suppose there’s some of you folks who feel like that, too.” He paused, his eyes drawn to four women sitting in a gilded cubicle halfway up the theater wall. Their escorts, he presumed, stood behind them. He exchanged nods with one of the women then continued where he left off. “But anyhow, I’m here, so I probably ought to start at the beginning.”
One of the escorts stepped to the front of the cubicle. “We understand you have the power to summon God,” the man said, his voice carrying throughout the theater. “We’d like to see that.”
Abe winced. “I don’t have any power to do anything,” he answered. “The Lord makes up His own mind. He certainly doesn’t listen to me. If He needed advice, I’m sure there’s men and women in this auditorium a thousand times smarter than me. He’d probably be asking one of them.”
The man started to say something further but the woman Abe had nodded to stopped him. He stepped back behind her.
“Believe me,” Abe went on. “I’ve wondered about that a lot. I mean why He didn’t pick someone smarter. Someone that had all the right answers and didn’t have to hem-haw around like I do. You know, maybe someone from here in Washington. I’ve seen some of you on television and I’m always amazed by how much you know. I think if I was the Lord I’d have picked one of you folks. But a good friend of mine once told me that the Lord has a reason for everything He does. I guess we’re not supposed to understand it all.”
When Abe stopped to take a deep breath, a smartly suited woman from the front row of seats rose to her feet. “Excuse me, Sir,” she said rather haughtily. Abe acknowledged her with a brief nod. “We’re busy people. Can we just bypass the life story and cut to the chase? Whether God comes at your beckoning or of His own accord is irrelevant to us. We’re simply interested in the end result, which is His appearance. Is that going to happen or not?”
Abe shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I really don’t know.”
She turned to face the audience. “Are we going to sit here and listen to this…this self-righteous, satirist spew his sarcastic remarks? Are you listening to him? Oh, it’s all innuendo of course, but he’s demeaning and ridiculing everything we stand for. Are you going to let him get by with that?” A mumble of voices surrounded her.
Her harsh words and lawyerized voice rang the trouble bell in Gerald Dodge’s mind. He motioned his men to stand ready and kept his eyes glued to the vehement woman.
She again directed her thoughts at Abe. “How dare you come to our city, to this revered hall and taint it with your invasive speech. Your subliminal references and accusations that our citizen’s are not of the highest caliber, worthy of any station, be it of God or any other entity.”
Abe heard her out then silently turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I could really use your help here, Lord,” he whispered.
The woman stamped a foot and reached down to pick up her briefcase. It snapped open and a bottle of perfume clinked against the floor.
“Gun!” someone yelled, and everyone in the audience, including the brash woman, scrambled to find floor space. Abe froze. The men and women in the cubicle vanished. Six stagehands with pistols drawn swooped in to form an arc in front of Abe. Instantly Dodge ran out of the wing, grabbed Abe’s arm and towed him off stage. They didn’t stop running until Dodge had him and Shorty loaded into Hart’s car. Chamberlain took the wheel and Dodge jumped into the passenger seat. In seconds they were on the street barreling away from the theater.
“They could have shot ya in there, Mr. Douglas,” Shorty said, his voice panting and cracked.
Abe, still frightened by all the events of the day, stared dead ahead, his eyes fixed on Dodge’s back.
“That’s a fact,” Dodge said, twisting in his seat to face them and dropping the good old boy routine. “That little charade could have cost you your lives.” He then addressed Chamberlain, “Take us out to the old highway.” Silent for a moment, he rubbed a hand over the stubble of beard he had forgotten to shave off then turned back to Abe. “You want to tell me why you didn’t go through with it?”
Abe looked confused. “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “He’s never let us down before.”
Dodge raised an eyebrow. “Who? Who’s never let you down?”
“The Lord, man!” Shorty fired. “Are ya thinkin’ we’d be relyin’ on anyone else?”
Dodge shrugged. “Just a try,” he said. “How did you figure us out? One of my boys tip you off?”
Abe’s face sagged. “I’ve known about you all day. And just because the Lord didn’t show up tonight that doesn’t mean He doesn’t know about you and your whole rotten organization, too. And, mark my words, He’ll get you for what you’re about to do.” Dodge’s face contorted, and Abe’s words shot a spear of terror through the Irishman.
“What’re they about to do?” Shorty blurted.
“Kill us,” Abe said flatly.
“What!” Chamberlain, Dodge and Shorty all yelled. The car swerved dangerously close to the curb, Dodge slammed into the side window, and Shorty slumped into his seat.
“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Kill people?” Abe said.
“No, no, no,” Dodge repeated. “The F.B.I. doesn’t operate that way.”
Shorty popped back to life. “Yer the F.B.I.?”
“Part of it,” Dodge answered.
“What did you want with us?” Abe asked, completely taken aback by the surprising revelation.
“We were wrong, too,” Dodge answered. “We thought you two were racketeers.”
“Oh, me everlovin’…”
“We’re just servants of the Lord,” said Abe.
Dodge smiled. “Or, maybe you just think you are,” he said. “Could you guys just be a little misguided?”
“No.” Abe answered quickly.
Dodge held up his hands. “I believe you believe that,” he said. “But if I were you I think I’d hold off on the preaching for a good long while. Everybody may not be as understanding as I am.”
“That’s me exact thoughts,” Shorty said. “I’m thinkin’ we’ve about come to the end of the road, Mr. Douglas.”
“Pull over here,” Dodge said to Chamberlain, then turned back to Abe and Shorty. “Like you said, Mr. McDougal, this is the end of the road, as far as we go. This road will get you home. I suggest you stay on it all the way.”
“Yer meanin’ to just drop us off in the middle of nowhere?” the astonished Irishman said. “Yer not getting’ us a ticket of some sort?”
Dodge nodded. “I think you’ve already cost the government enough. And, ah, the five thousand dollars?” he said holding out a hand.
“You want it back?” Abe asked. “We held the meeting. We should get p
aid.”
“Yes you did hold a meeting. I’ll give you that, but the arrangement called for God’s appearance. That didn’t happen, so the money would never be an approved expenditure.”
Abe frowned. “Give it to him, Mr. McDougal, and let’s get out of here. It’s a long walk. We might as well get started.”
“But…” Shorty started to complain.
“Give it to him,” Abe said again, and the Irishman retrieved the envelope from his pocket.
“Here, take yer booty,” he snapped, handing it to Dodge.
Dodge took it and tossed it on the seat beside Chamberlain. “It’s just as well,” he said. “It’s counterfeit. We were out to get you one way or the other. Actually, I’m glad it worked out this way.” He got out of the car and opened the door for them while Chamberlain got their suitcases out of the trunk. He held a hand out to Abe. “No hard feelings? Just doing our job, you understand?”
Abe hesitated then shook his hand. “So were we, Mr. Hail,” he said.
They watched as the car’s tail-lights disappeared into the night, then he and Shorty took their first steps on the long journey to a destination they had yet to determine.