The sun was going down. "Someonewants to see you. He's been waiting for Kellner to finish with you. Weleave tonight."
"For where?" I didn't like this running around. "Who's 'he'?"
"For Washington. You'll see who it is."
Washington, more than just a sleeper jump away. Washington? Oh, oh....Well, let's get it over with. We did. We left for the capital thatnight.
We slipped in the back door, or what passed for the back door. Prettyelaborate layout, the White House. Our footsteps rang as hollow as myheart on the shiny waxed floors.
The Old Man did the honors. "Mr. President, this is Mr. Miller."
He shook hands. He had a good grip.
"General Hayes, you know. Admiral Lacey, Admiral Jessop, Mr. Hooveryou know, General Buckley. Gentlemen. Mr. Miller."
We shook hands all around. "Glad to know you." My palms were slippery.
The President sat, and we followed suit. The guest of honor, I feltlike my head was shaved, and I had a slit pants leg. You don't meetthe President every day.
The President broke the ice. It was thin to begin with. "You havewithin yourself the ability, the power, to do a great deal for yourcountry, Mr. Miller, or would you prefer to be called Pete?"
Pete was all right. He was older, and bigger. Bigger all around.
"A great deal of good, or a great deal of harm."
No harm. I'm a good citizen.
"I'm sure of that. But you can understand what I mean, by harm."
Likely I could, if I really wanted to. But I didn't. Not the placewhere you were born.
"Naturally, Pete, it makes me feel a great deal better, however, tohear you say and phrase it just like that." The light of the lampglittered on his glasses. "Very, very much better, Pete."
I was glad it was dark beyond the range of the lamp. My face was red."Thank you, Mr. President."
"I like it better, Pete, because from this day on, Pete, you and I andall of us know that you, and you alone, are going to have a mightyhard row to hoe." That's right; he was a farmer once. "Hard in thisrespect--you understand, I know, that for the rest of your naturallife you must and shall be guarded with all the alert fervor thatnational security demands. Does that sound too much like a jailsentence?"
It did, but I lied. I said, "Not exactly, Mr. President. Whatever yousay is all right with me."
He smiled. "Thank you, Pete.... Guarded as well and as closely as--thequestion is, where?"
* * * * *
I didn't know I'd had a choice. The Old Man had talked to me before onthat.
"Not exactly, Pete. This is what I mean: General Buckley and GeneralHayes feel that you will be safest on the mainland somewhere in theContinental United States. Admirals Lacey and Jessop, on the otherhand, feel that the everpresent risk of espionage can be controlledonly by isolation, perhaps on some island where the personnel can beexclusively either military or naval."
I grinned inwardly. I knew this was going to happen.
"Mr. Hoover concedes that both possible places have inherentadvantages and disadvantages," the President went on. "He feels,however, that protection should be provided by a staff speciallytrained in law-enforcement and counter-espionage."
So where did that leave me? I didn't say it quite that way, but I putacross the idea.
The President frowned a bit at nothing. "I'm informed you haven't beentoo ... comfortable."
I gulped. Might as well be hung for a sheep. If the Boss likes you,the Help must. "I'm sorry, Mr. President, but it isn't much fun beingshifted around pillar and post."
He nodded slowly. "Quite understandable, under the circumstances.That, we'll try to eliminate as much as we can. You can see, Pete,"and he flashed that famous wide grin, "it will be in the nationalinterest to see that you are always in the finest physical and mentalcondition. Crudely expressed, perhaps, but the truth, nevertheless."
I like people to tell me the truth. He could see that. He's like that,himself. On his job, you have to be like that.
"Now, Pete; let's get down to cases. Have you any ideas, anypreferences, any suggestions?" He took a gold pencil out of his breastpocket and it began to twirl.
I had an idea, all right. "Why not just let me go back home? I'll keepmy mouth shut, I won't blow any fuses or raise any hell, if you'llexcuse the expression."
Someone coughed. The President turned his head out of the circle oflight. "Yes, Mr. Hoover?"
J. Edgar Hoover was diffident. "Er ... Mrs. Miller has been informedof her husband's ... demise. An honorable one," he hastened to add,"and is receiving a comfortable pension, paid from the Bureau'sspecial funds."
"How much?" I wanted to know.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Well ... a hundred a month."
I looked at the President. "Bought any butter lately?"
The President strangled a cough. "Have you, Mr. Hoover, bought anybutter lately?"
J. Edgar Hoover couldn't say anything. It wasn't his fault.
I flicked a glance at General Hayes. "How much does it cost the Armyfor an antiaircraft gun?" I looked at one of the admirals. "And howmuch goes down the drain when you launch a battleship? Or even a PTboat?"
The President took over. "Rest assured, Mr. Miller. Your wife'spension is quadrupled, effective immediately." He swung his chair toface Hoover; "Cash will be transferred tomorrow to the Bureau from theState Department's special fund. You'll see to that?" to the Old Man.So that was what he did for a living. That State Department is a goodlifetime job, I understand.
* * * * *
That took a load from my mind, but not all. I spoke to Hooverdirectly.
"How is my ... widow?"
As tense and as bad as I felt just then, I was sorry for him.
"Quite well, Mr. Miller. Quite well, considering. It came as a blow toher, naturally--"
"What about the house?" I asked him. "Is she keeping up the payments?"
He had to admit that he didn't know. The President told him to finishthe payments, pay for the house. Over and above the pension? Over andabove the pension. And I was to get a regular monthly report on howshe was getting along.
"Excuse me, Mr. President. I'd rather not get a regular monthlyreport, or any word at all, unless she--unless anything happens toher."
"No report at all, Pete?" That surprised, him, and he eyed me over thetop of his bifocals.
"She's still young, Mr. President," I said, "and she's just as prettyas the day we got married. I don't think I'd want to know if ... shegot married again."
The quiet was thick enough to slice. If they talked about Helen anymore I was going to throw something. The President saw how I felt.
"Now, Mr. Miller--Pete. Let's get back to business. You weresaying--?"
Yes, I had an idea. "Put me on an island somewhere, the further awaythe better. I wouldn't like being around things without being able tobe in the middle. Better put me where I can't weaken, where I can'tsneak out a window or swim back." Everyone was listening. "Keep theuniforms away from me, out of sight." The Brass didn't like that, butthey heard me out. "Feed me a case of beer once in a while and a fewmagazines and some books and right boys to play euchre. I guess that'sall I want."
The gold pencil turned over and over. "That isn't very much, Pete."
"That's all. If I'm going to do the Army's and the Navy's work theycan leave me alone till they need me. If I can't live my life the wayI want, it makes no difference what I do. My own fault is that all myfamily lived to be eighty, and so will I. Is that what you wanted toknow?"
The gold pencil rolled off the table. "Yes, yes, Pete. That's what Iwanted to know."
I tried once more. "There isn't any way I can just go home?"
A slow shake of his head, and finality was in his voice. "I'm afraidthere isn't any way." And that was that.
The President stood up in dismissal, and we all rose nervously. Heheld out his hand. "Sorry, Pete. Perhaps some day...."
I shook his hand limply and the
Old Man was at my elbow to steer meout. Together we paced back through the dark hall, together we steppedquietly out into the black Washington night. Our footsteps echoedsoftly past the buildings of the past and the future. The car waswaiting; Stein, the driver. The heavy door slammed, and the tireshissed me from the pavement.
The Old Man's voice was gentle. "You behaved well, Peter."
"Yeh."
"I was afraid, for a moment, that you were going to kick over thetraces. The