The prodigal spy

Larry looked at him. “Because he never does,” he said, tossing back his drink. “Because I know you. The Mine Workers, for Christ’s sake. What’s next, the fucking Red Cross? He hasn’t got a thing, Walter.” He paused. “If he did we’d have heard about it.” He turned and started walking, a courtroom pace. “One witness who doesn’t even look stable. You see the way she twists her handkerchief? If this were a real trial, Benjamin would discredit her in two minutes. Two minutes.”

“Then I guess I don’t have a thing to worry about,” his father said easily. He leaned against the edge of the desk, looking down at his glass. “Nick wonders why she’s saying these things. I’ll bet he’s not the only one.”

Nick started at the sound of his name, as if they’d caught him and were drawing him into the room.

“Who knows?” Larry said. “Maybe Welles is screwing her. She wouldn’t be the first. Maybe she’s doing it for love. She looks the type. The point is, it doesn’t matter. All she’s got is some cockamamie story about shirts. Shirts. Christ, where do they get this stuff? Anyway, forget her. This is about Welles, not her. Welles doesn’t know what to do with her either. Just keep your eye on him.”

His father smiled, still looking down. “That’s what Nick said too.”

Larry stopped, disconcerted, then walked over to the sideboard to put his glass down. “Well, do it then. All you’ve got to do is keep your head, Walter. It’s her word against yours, and yours still counts for something in this town.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Larry,” his father said slowly. “I’m finished in this town. That’s why I need your help.”

In the quiet Nick could hear the sounds from downstairs, the indistinct voices and clinks of coffee spoons.

“Walter, I-”

“Don’t worry, it won’t cost you anything. I don’t want a lawyer. Just some advice. Advice used to be cheap.” He got up and walked over to the window, out of Nick’s sight.

“You’re a behind-the-scenes guy. It’s your specialty, isn’t it? I need someone like that now.”

“To do what?”

“To make a deal with the committee.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Larry said carefully.

“I have to. It’s going to get worse.”

The room was quiet again.

“What do you mean?” Larry finally said. “Look, Walter, if you’re trying to tell me something, don’t. I’m not your lawyer. Anything we say-it’s not privileged. You know that.”

His father came back into view, his face slightly surprised. “You don’t have to tell me that, Larry,” he said gently. “What’s the matter? Do you think I’m a Communist? You too?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know. I mean it. Not any of it. I don’t want to know what you joined or who your pals were.”

“Larry-”

Larry held up his hand. “No. Listen to me. I don’t care if you organized the whole goddam dining hall or had a drink with Uncle Joe at Yalta. Things were different then. Was it innocent? There is no such thing now. They can twist anything. I can’t know. What if they call me too? They could. I’m an old friend. I don’t want to be used against you.”

“No,” his father said after a minute, nodding to himself. “Not to mention tarred with the same brush.”

“That’s right,” Larry said quickly, embarrassed. “Not to mention. This isn’t just happening to you.”

His father looked up. “You don’t have to tell me that either, Larry. You don’t have a wife who wonders why nobody calls her anymore or a kid who can’t go to school without hearing his father’s a criminal. I know it’s happening to all of us. But I’m the one getting beaten up every day. This isn’t a trial-I’m already guilty. I’m a Communist whether I am or not. What’s the point of going on with it? How do I win?”

“You don’t win. You just don’t lose it.”

“No, they lose. Everybody who comes near me. Just by being around. Even old friends,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “It’s enough. I don’t want to go on being a punching bag just to get Welles elected.”

“You don’t have a choice, Walter,” Larry said slowly. “And if you handle this right, he won’t get elected. He thinks he’s Nixon, but he’s not that good. He’s still looking for a pumpkin, and he’s not going to find one. All you have to do is let it play itself out.”

“Forget the politics for a minute, will you? This isn’t about politics.”

“Yes it is,” Larry said calmly.

“My God, how you love all this,” his father said, then turned away.

Larry looked up to answer, then seemed to change his mind and took out a cigarette. “Nobody loves this. Not this. It’s getting in the way.”

“Of what? Business as usual?” Nick’s father said, still sarcastic, handing Larry a lighter.

Larry nodded. “Nothing moves now. We’re paralyzed until we get him to run out of steam. Maybe it stops with you, Walter. Who knows?”

“Well, that would be nice. Meanwhile, I’m the one being run out of town.” A roar of laughter came up from the first floor, a party sound, and his father smiled involuntarily. “All evidence to the contrary aside.”