Designated Targets

Black wasn’t sure if Hoover had intentionally used the Germanic pronunciation, but again it seemed to roll off the admiral without effect. On the other hand, General Eisenhower did not seem at all impressed.

Hoover pressed on, seemingly oblivious. “But I am afraid things are very lax in California, from a security standpoint, Mr. President. Very lax, indeed. The laws of the country are flouted openly and at every turn. Simply uncountable numbers of undesirables and subversive types have set up shop in the shadow of this ‘Special Administration’ Zone. Enemy aliens are free to wander about unmolested. Some of them, I am duty-bound to point out, are men and even women who arrived with Admiral Kölhammer with the most advanced military training, and some of them having special training above and beyond that in exactly the sort of covert operations which have taken place in New York, and now in Los Angeles—which of course, is so close to the Special Zone that it would be remiss of me not to follow up that line of inquiry.”

Hoover’s excitement had got away from him. He was like a race caller at the derby now, so quickly did each sentence tumble out over the last.

“And of course, there are still 531,882 registered enemy aliens in that state who have not been interned, another 1,234,995 free in New York, and plenty more in between. If you would be willing to indulge me, Mr. President, I feel we can get right to the bottom of this situation. I have taken the liberty, which I’m sure you’ll understand given the current exigencies, of having the Bureau’s legal section draft a proposed executive order which would give the FBI the powers it needs to effectively deal with this immediate threat to our cherished freedoms and—”

“Enough, enough, Edgar. Just leave it behind on your way out,” said Roosevelt. “I’ll have Francis Biddle review it, later.”

Hoover looked stunned. His mouth opened and closed twice without a sound coming out.

“That’ll be all, Edgar.”

The FBI director seemed incapable of movement. It was as though he had gripped a naked electric wire, and couldn’t let go.

A Secret Service agent appeared through the Oval Office door.

He whispered something in Hoover’s ear and gently took his elbow, guiding him toward the door. With only two exceptions, everybody in the room found something fascinating to look at, somewhere off in the middle distance. The exceptions were President Roosevelt and Admiral Kolhammer.

Black could have sworn that a flicker of a smile played across the president’s face. And Kolhammer had somehow positioned himself near the exit without Black ever seeing him move there. He leaned over to give Hoover a comradely, reassuring pat on the back as he passed by. It looked like a genuinely compassionate gesture by the admiral, unless you heard what he actually said, as only Dan Black could.

“Hey, Edna. Loved the kimono.”

“Have you ever considered a career in politics, Admiral?” Roosevelt kept the grin from his face as he asked, but the tone of his question was playful.

Kolhammer played it straight down the line. “I really don’t believe it’s appropriate for serving military officers to publicly involve themselves in the political process, Mr. President.”

“Really?”

The Oval Office was empty, save for the two of them. The others had all left some twenty minutes earlier. A storm front was coming in from the west. Gusts of wind pasted wet leaves against the windows. Roosevelt wondered whether Kolhammer was just being polite. He might well be a registered Republican.

“You don’t think that was politics, Admiral? Sandbagging Hoover like that? Is it common practice for the military in your day to put spies on the tail of civil servants they don’t like?”

A smile crinkled a fine network of wrinkles at the corner of Kolhammer’s eyes. “We’ve had some trouble with apparent espionage efforts in the Zone, Mr. President. It’s what you’d expect, with so much advanced R and D going on there now. So it was only natural for my security to mount an effort to close down the operation.”

“On your own.”

“We had interagency help. From the Secret Service and the OSS. You can imagine our surprise when the trail led us to a hotel room in Florida. And the terrible shock of finding Mr. Hoover there. In a kimono.”

Roosevelt snorted, unable to contain himself. “I think he’d call it a bathrobe. Tell me, Admiral, what was the Secret Service and Colonel Donovan doing offering interagency help for a domestic security matter? That’s not within their fief?”

“Nobody knew that, until they knew it, sir,” the admiral replied. Completely deadpan. “When I received the data from my security people—” He nodded at the video stick Roosevelt was rolling around in his palm. “—I immediately informed the other services that we had a problem. It was the considered opinion of us all that the only way to resolve the matter was to take it to the chief executive.”