Junie said you and the boy and Lawyer Vincent had gone hunting south of Blue Eye.'
'We came back early.'
'No luck? I don't see no animal on the fender.'
'The best luck. It worked out fine.'
He put his son down.
'You run off, Bob Lee. Seems these boys come to talk to Daddy. Junie, can you get the boy some lemonade?'
'You come, Bob Lee,' sang Junie, taking the boy in her sheltering presence.
Earl turned to face whatever this would be. They stood, all of them, on the porch, in the pale twilight. 'Now what is going on here, sir? You don't come to call with a Cadillac every day.'
'Earl, may I introduce Phil Mackey of Governor Becker's office and Lane Brodgins, on the staff of Congressman Harry Etheridge himself.'
The two men stepped forward behind large smiles and pushed hands at him; Earl shook each numbly. He looked behind them to see that Junie had been pressed to prepare for whatever this would be: A suitcase, the nice one he'd bought for her when she went on a trip to Cape Girardeau for her mother's funeral last year, lay on a table. In it he saw neatly folded clothes: shirts, socks, slacks-his own. He also saw his new Super.38 Colt, wrapped in a cotton cloth, nested in his undercover shoulder holster. It was the right gun to pack, whatever was coming up. Junie knew.
'Earl-may I call you Earl, Earl?' said the governor's man.
'Earl, you know how highly Fred Becker thinks of you. We all know you may have put him in the governor's mansion.'
'That was some years ago,' said Earl.
'Yes, sir, it was. Now-well, you tell him, Lane.'
This Brodgins, the Washington version of the slickster of which Mackey was only a rural prototype, stepped forward now, and put a well-manicured hand on Earl's shoulder.
'Earl, you know how Congressman Etheridge-hell, Harry-how highly Harry thinks of you, too. You're one of three Arkansas Medal of Honor winners. Harry thinks of you as his boys.'
Earl just nodded. He knew enough of Boss Harry to go on edge, for he didn't trust the man: a speechifying, deal-making politician who rose to power through old Ray Bama's organization in Fort Smith. But Boss Harry-who came originally from Polk, moved up to Fort Smith, and made his way from gofer to secretary of the Democratic party to city legislator to mayor to congressman-had far exceeded his mentor. He was a man who, getting to Washington in record time, and quite young, had mastered its lessons, solved its system, and learned how to get himself into key positions. He'd been there so long he was a power, now especially, as chairman of some big moneybags committee.
'The governor always says, 'That Earl, he's the most capable man in Arkansas,'' said Phil.
'Earl,' said Sam, 'I'd keep my hand on my wallet. These boys are reaching for something.'
'Now, Mr. Sam,' said Phil, 'you may be Polk County's prosecuting attorney, but you are still Earl's best friend, so you advise him to listen to us, because we come with some damned good news.'
'Let's hear it,' said Earl.
'Earl,' said Phil, 'you've seen gangsters. You've seen how they take over, how they make things their own, how they kill what gets in their way. You know that truth well,' said Phil.
'The point is,' Lane said, 'as Senator Kefauver has exposed, crime ain't just home-grown no more. It's national. You saw the hearings, Earl. They're everywhere.'
'It was on the television, Earl.'
Earl didn't watch television much.
'I see where this one is going,' said Sam. 'Harry's seen how much ink old Estes is getting and wants a big bite of gangster pie, too. They're saying Estes might run against General Ike in '56, that's how famous he is. Well, not if Harry has his way.'
'Mr. Vincent, Harry's commitment is to the people of his district, and his state. He's not anxious to give up representing Arkansas. But?'
'Here it comes, Earl. You watch yourself.'
' But,' continued Lane, 'Harry ain't content to sit back and let the gangsters do what they want. Now it happens they're at their boldest on a little island just off of Florida called Cuba.'
'Woooieee,' said Sam. 'Earl, Cuba's so hot it makes Hot Springs seem like a Baptist church picnic.'
'We can't hold hearings in Cuba,' said Lane. 'It's not our country, though we cooperate closely with its government. But there is a large naval base called Guantanamo. Marines are there, too. Now there are allegations that the gangsters from New York might be muscling in on the contracts for all the service to Guantanamo: you know, garbage, laundry, that sort of thing. We can't have gangsters living off our servicemen, can we, Earl? So the congressman proposes an investigation.'
'Where do I fit in?' Earl asked.
'Well, sir, the congressman needs a bodyguard. It's a dangerous town, Havana. He needs someone who can talk to the military, whom the military respects. He needs someone who's been out and about in the world, someone who's been the world over, say, in the Marine Corps. He needs someone who's been up against gangsters, beaten them down, knows how they operate. Any of these seem like anybody you know, Earl?'
'What does Colonel Jenks say?' asked Earl.
'Well, Earl,' said Colonel Jenks, 'the governor wants us to cooperate with the congressman, and so it seems we could easily enough detach you on special assignment to the congressional party that's headed to Cuba. You'd go down there with the congressman, help him in any way you can, report to Mr. Brodgins here, and of course the state of Arkansas will continue your pay, and you'd be back in a few weeks. It's a great opportunity, Earl. You could do well for yourself.'
'You've noticed, Earl, how them who help the congressman get helped themselves? It can happen to you, Earl.'
'Sounds to me,' said Sam, winking at Junie, 'like this deal's been signed, sealed and delivered for a month. These here fellows are just bringing the word.'
Chapter 5
'That's him?' Roger asked.
'Yep,' Walter Short replied.
'Hmmmm. Somehow, from your descriptions, I was expecting Superman.'
'Don't get him mad. Then you'll see Superman.'
The two of them were huddled like junior G-men behind a sofa on the balcony above the foyer in the ambassador's residence in the American embassy complex in the posh precinct just west of Centro Havana called Vedado. It was an old sugar millionaire's place converted from opulence to mere luxury, and down below candles glinted, potted palms waved and a warm sea breeze cascaded in through the open marble atrium. A three-piece combo beat out one of Desi Arnaz's softer rhythms.
The reception for the Honorable Congressman Harrison J. Etheridge and staff was well lubricated by ample rum from the folks at Bacardi, which bought so much of the sugar Domino milled from the Cuban cane. But all that labor against the good earth was far from view. Men in dinner jackets swirled about; women, brown and quivery, laughed gaily. Congressman Etheridge could even be glimpsed-that is, when he slowed down: a heavyset man with great, carefully tended mounds of white hair. But his dinner jacket was bespoke, from a fine Savile Row firm, and he cut a surprisingly dapper figure for a man whose Arkansas accent, amplified theatrically, seemed to come from a radio humor hour hosted by Lum and Abner. That mighty, booming voice cut through the air above the laughter and the music.
But neither Roger nor Walter watched the congressman. The congressman wasn't nearly as interesting as he thought he was. They watched instead the congressman's bodyguard, the large, dour, flattopped man in the khaki summer suit standing near a pillar, almost at parade rest, his piercing eyes glancing around the large room.
