‘You’re such a kidder.’
‘I’m not kidding, Woody, I’m dead serious.’
‘You’re
‘That’s exactly what I am. I didn’t choose to be. When we were kids, and we started jerking off, you used to think about bouncy tits and hairy cunts. I never told you that I used to think about big stiff cocks.’
‘Chuck, this is disgusting!’
‘No, it’s not. It’s the way some guys are made. More guys than you think – especially in the navy.’
‘There are pansies in the navy?’
Chuck nodded vigorously. ‘A lot.’
‘Well . . . how do you know?’
‘We usually recognize one another. Like Jews always know who’s Jewish. For example, the waiter in the Chinese restaurant.’
‘He was one?’
‘Didn’t you hear him say he liked my jacket?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t think anything of it.’
‘There you are.’
‘He was attracted to you?’
‘I guess.’
‘Why?’
‘Same reason Diana liked me, probably. Hell, I’m better-looking than you.’
‘This is weird.’
‘Come on, let’s go home.’
They continued on their way. Woody was still reeling. ‘You mean there are Chinese pansies?’
Chuck laughed. ‘Of course!’
‘I don’t know, you never think of Chinese guys being that way.’
‘Remember, not a word to anyone, especially the parents. God knows what Papa would say.’
After a while, Woody put his arm around Chuck’s shoulders. ‘Well, what the hell,’ he said. ‘At least you’re not a Republican.’
Greg Peshkov sailed with Sumner Welles and President Roosevelt on a heavy cruiser, the
They anchored in two long lines, with a broad sea passage down the middle. At nine o’clock in the morning of Saturday 9 August, in bright sunshine, the crews of all twenty vessels mustered at the rails in their dress whites as the British battleship
It was the most impressive show of power Greg had ever seen, and he was delighted to be part of it.
He was also worried. He hoped the Germans did not know about this rendezvous. If they found out, one U-boat could kill the two leaders of what remained of Western civilization – and Greg Peshkov.
Before leaving Washington, Greg had met with the detective, Tom Cranmer, again. Cranmer had produced an address, a house in a low-rent neighbourhood on the far side of Union Station. ‘She’s a waitress at the University Women’s Club near the Ritz-Carlton, which is why you saw her in that neighbourhood twice,’ he had said as he pocketed the balance of his fee. ‘I guess acting didn’t work out for her – but she still goes by Jacky Jakes.’
Greg had written her a letter.
He had added his phone number and mailed the note the day he left for Newfoundland.
The President was keen that the conference should result in a joint statement. Greg’s boss, Sumner Welles, wrote a draft, but Roosevelt refused to use it, saying it was better to let
