Amerikan Eagle

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?”

“It means lucky me, I get to be the feds’ errand boy until this summit is over. Finding places to sleep and eat for all the government types coming into Portsmouth over the next week. Lots of FBI and Secret Service, people being rounded up, I’m sure… and damn, speaking of rounding up—you remember Sean Donovan?”

She turned, spatula in hand. “Sure. That crippled guy who works in records?”

“He got picked up two days ago. Off to a labor camp.”

“Can’t the marshal get him off?”

“It’s a federal charge. And Hanson can’t do much with something federal, as much as he’d like to. One other thing: As long as I’m being an errand boy, I won’t be able to investigate my John Doe case.”

She put the slices of roast beef on a plate. “What a world, what a time… and here in Portsmouth. I can’t believe it. Why Portsmouth?”

Sam yawned. He couldn’t help it. “I heard from somebody in the state police that Hitler hates the water, hates ships. He didn’t want to spend a day more on the water than he had to. So instead of New York or D.C., he’s coming to Portsmouth. A quicker trip. Plus, the Navy Yard’s an easy place to secure.”

Sarah put the potato pancakes on a plate, brought it over to the table. “Security, hah. Maybe if we’re lucky, a crane will fall on Long and Hitler at the same time. Make the world a safer place.”

He picked up his knife and fork as she sat across from him. “Maybe so, but if Long goes, some other creep takes over. What’s-his-name. That senator from Missouri. Same with Hitler.”

She placed her chin in her hand. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t get the feeling our Vice President likes being Long’s lackey, the poor son of a gun. And I heard that—”

He put his silverware down, looked at the cheerleader who once won his heart, no longer listening to what she was saying. He thought of the boy at the Fish Shanty with the dollar in his hand. Sean warning him to watch his back. The train of prisoners heading up to Maine. The families outside the police station, the children crying. His brother, Tony, on the loose. Donna Fitzgerald and her man, Larry, back together. Leo Gray being picked up by the Black Maria. The visit last night from the two Long’s Legionnaires, who made a point of knowing the door in his living room led to the cellar. And what Hanson had said not over an hour ago.

No one was safe.

Her head came up. “Everything all right? Sam?”