Amerikan Eagle

“Hell, maybe I’ll screw everyone up and sell them to the Nazis. I’ll get ahold of my new best friend, Groebke, and tell him what I have. Don’t you think I could get a pretty price for these papers? Retire with my family to some sunny city in South America and watch the rest of the world go to hell?”

Out on the harbor, a whistle blew at the shipyard. Hanson’s eyes were locked on the sheets of paper in Sam’s hand. “I could also dump these in the harbor, Harold. So your murder would be for nothing. All that work—for nothing.”

“Sam, don’t—”

“So tell me this,” Sam demanded. “Am I talking to the right person? Are you able to make a deal? Or do I need to talk to somebody else?”

“I can make a deal.”

“Talk to me, then.”

“How much money do you want?”

“Not a fucking dime.” And Sam smiled.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

“But there’s still a price to be paid,” Sam went on. “Do you understand?”

A pause. “Yes… I understand.”

“Good,” he said, taking a breath. “The camp at Burdick and the rest of them, all across the country. The conditions improve. Better food, fewer hours, clean quarters. The fucking Nazis, they get kicked out. And the Jews, they get paid a living wage. Everything can still be kept secret, that doesn’t have to change. Long keeps on admitting them. And their family members.”

Hanson said, “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“Best deal you’re going to get. Oh, and one more thing. My wife. Tomorrow you’re going to take the two of us on a trip to Burdick. I want Sarah to see it, and I want you to explain to her why it’s there, why Long is the key to keeping all those Jews alive, and what I’ve done here today.”

“This is important? For your wife to see Burdick?”

The other day, the sadness in her eyes, the disdain in her voice, wondering where it had all gone wrong… It would take a lot, she had said, to make it all right. He was certain now that this would do it. The look in her eyes had tormented him. To see them shine again with happiness and love meant everything to him.

“More important than you know,” Sam said. “I’ve lost her. And I’m going to get her back.”

“Can I put my arms down?”

“Do we have a deal?”

“Some calls have to be made. You know what that’s like.”

He held the papers up, motioned to throw them into the choppy waters of the harbor. “Wrong answer.”

Hanson spoke hastily, “Yes, Sam. We have a deal.”

Sam kept the revolver pointed at him. “Believe me when I say this, Harold. If the deal doesn’t go through, if there’re changes, if it doesn’t happen the way I want it, then I won’t complain. I won’t make a fuss. I’ll just find you and kill you.”

Hanson spat out, “A hell of a thing to say to your boss!”

“Boss?” Sam laughed. “You’re not my boss anymore. Our relationship has changed. We’re partners now, bound together for life. And here’s a news flash for you and my father-in-law, your Party rival. You’ve all been pushing me to become more active in the Party, for all your different reasons, and guess what, that’s exactly what I’m going to do starting this week. But like they say, be careful what you wish for.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sam offered a nasty smile. “Like I said—partners. I’m going to become active in the Party. You’re going to be there, greasing the wheels, seeing that I become powerful and prominent. Maybe my father-in-law will help. Hell, being the official savior of the President won’t hurt, either. And once I’m inside, in a position of power and influence, you’re going to see some changes there, too. Just you watch. You know, a couple of guys these past few days”—he thought of his brother and his upstairs neighbor—“said to me that sometimes one man can make a difference. I plan to be that man, Harold. There are changes coming, positive changes, and I’m going to be leading that charge. No more hiding, no more sitting on the sidelines.”

“Sam, please, can I put my arms down?”

“Go right ahead.”

Hanson lowered his arms, then rubbed his hands together. “All right… the papers?”

Sam passed them over, and Hanson grabbed them like a child opening his first gift on Christmas morning. He flipped through the pages, then looked up. “This math is gibberish. How in hell did you figure out what it all means?”

“Had someone help me out.” Poor Walter Tucker, not knowing how the plot and conspiracy had eventually paid off.

“These papers… they’re numbered from one to fifty.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I only have twenty-five pages.”

Sam uncocked the revolver, put it back into his shoulder holster, pulled his coat close. “Consider it a down payment.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?”