grey flannel trousers, and a pair of stiff English brown brogues. The team plays like it's in aspic.'
The university police,' continued Goldman, unperturbed by this interruption, are co-operating with the FBI and the Secret Service to make sure that next month's visit goes as smoothly as possible. I'm sure we all want that, don't we?'
Goldman glanced around the room in an attempt to make a quick appraisal of the two young characters with whom he was dealing. There was a pair of skis sticking out from under each boy's bed and, taped to the walls, were pictures of naked girls and sportscars. In the corner, resting on a Knickerbocker beer crate, was a Motorola television set, and there was even a small Christmas tree, atop of which shone a toy sheriff's badge. Torbert's desk was home to a copy of Atlantic Monthly, a flashlight, some family photographs, and a new briar pipe, while Chub's desk revealed interests as Catholic as Playboy magazine, Marx's Das Kapital, a Ben Hur souvenir movie programme, and a French edition of Charles Baudelaire's Intimate Journals. Goldman thought Chub and Torbert looked like what they were: a couple of polite young men in a hurry to be older ones. That was good. That was very much to his purpose. With what Tom had in mind for them, they were booked on a DC-8 bound for Manhood.
Sure, I guess everyone wants Kennedy's visit to be a success,' agreed Torbert. But how can we help you, sir?'
Yes, of course, anything,' said Chub.
I'm sure you understand that sometimes we have to check people out, just to make sure they're not the enemies of democracy.'
Goldman picked up the copy of Kapital and turned the pages with a show of disapproval. It was a long time since he had read it himself -at least twenty years. Things had seemed clearer back then, in the thirties, when he had decided that the best way of serving the cause of anti-fascism had been to work for the Soviet Union. For a long while after the war, when he had learned the true facts about Stalinist Russia, he had doubted the wisdom of that original choice: political conscience, instead of loyalty to country. But, more recently, his communist faith had been restored by the revolution in Cuba. And by a determination to prevent the forces of American fascism from destroying Castro and his popular revolution, by any means necessary. Those were his orders from his KGB controllers. And he intended to carry them out. Even when those orders sometimes involved carrying out an assassination. No matter who it was.
Silencing the two Nicaraguan girls, Edith and Anne, after this was all over, would be tough enough. A lot tougher than merely ordering Tom to kill an old friend who had been about to defect from the GRU in Mexico City. But hardest of all had been killing Mary Jefferson. Goldman had liked her, and even his degraded sensibilities had found the means of her murder quite abhorrent. By comparison with what had happened to Mary, planning John Kennedy's assassination looked like a picnic.
Chub Farrell was looking nervous at the amount of interest the FBI was showing in his choice of reading matter, and, flushing bright red, said, I was just reading that, sir.'
It's only a book,' said Goldman.
We both were, as a matter of fact,' added Chub. For Economics.'
But you bought it,' accused Torbert.
Thanks a lot, Tor.' Then, to Goldman, Economics is one of the subjects we're studying this year. That's the only reason I'm reading it. I'm not a communist. I don't even like Economics.'
Dismal science, huh?' Goldman tossed Marx aside and, collecting Playboy off Chub's desk, idly thumbed through its pages. What are the others?'
History, English, French. French is my worst.'
For a moment, Goldman's eyes lingered over a pictorial tribute to Marilyn. Then he smiled and said, What are you majoring in? Good-looking broads?'
Government, sir. With an emphasis on international relations.'
Goldman thought the better of making a remark about sexual relations being more likely in government, especially if Jack Kennedy was anyone to go by. Replacing the magazine, he took out a notebook and a pencil.
Where do you live, son? When you're not here and studying hard?'
New York, sir.'
Address?'
Chub gave an exclusive-sounding address on New York's Upper East Side.
What about you, son?' Goldman asked Torbert.
Torbert's address in Boston sounded equally patrician.
Now then. Can you each verify the other's good character?'
Oh yes sir. We were at school together. At Choate.'
Cho what?'
It's an Episcopalian school in Wallingford, Connecticut,' explained Torbert.
Where Jack Kennedy went to school,' murmured Tom.
That's right, sir.'
And now you're both Harvard men.' Goldman looked like he was impressed. It all sounds very promising. Who knows? Maybe, in twenty years or so, it'll be you who's coming to attend a meeting of the Harvard Board of Overseers. Now wouldn't that be something?'
It sure would, sir,' agreed Chub.
Okay. That's about it for now,' said Goldman. The Secret Service might be along sometime nearer the big day, to check over the immediate scene.'
That's the easy part,' said Tom.
They leave the background checks to us. It is possible your parents might get a visit over the holidays, just to find out if you are who you say you are. But, like I said before, it is nothing to be alarmed about. Just routine. By the way, when do you boys break up here for the holidays?'
Winter recess begins on Friday the sixteenth,' said Torbert. We're both back for the Winter Reading Period on January second.'
Tom got up from the window seat. What are you boys doing for Christmas?' he asked innocently.
Studying at home.'
Me too.'
We've got mid-year examinations starting on the sixteenth of January.'
We'd stay here and study, if we could, but you can't. It's not allowed. Winter recess is the one break when you have to leave the Harvard campus.'
And you can't come back in after you've left. The dorm is all closed up.'
Good luck with the exams,' said Goldman. And I want to thank you both for your time and your co-operation. Oh, there is one more thing, gentlemen. I'd be really grateful if you would refrain from discussing our visit with anyone. And I do mean anyone. Not just Thold and David in room fourteen, McMurry and Salant in thirteen, and Boyd and Costello in sixteen, but anyone at all. Girlfriends, teachers, even the university police. You see, in matters affecting the security of the President, or the President-elect, we usually find that it is best if our involvement is treated in a vacuum, as it were. Just in case a foreign power or enemy agency should discover how we handle these matters. Now I would be within my rights to ask you both to sign an executive order, binding you to confidentiality, which forbids the unauthorised disclosure of anything that might reasonably be expected to cause damage to the national security. Such as our investigative procedures in the FBI. But you being Harvard men, I'm only going to do what I've done with your friends along the hall there. All I'm going to do is ask you on your honour not to discuss this matter. Not even with each other. Okay?'
Exhibiting the kind of gravity normally reserved for the Grand Jury, or presidential inaugurations, the two Harvard students came to attention and gave their solemn oaths to Alex Goldman.
Good enough,' he said, shaking each by the hand. Good enough.'
Tom opened the door and walked silently into the cold white corridor. He had always wondered what it might be like to go to Harvard, and now he knew. It was high school with good shoes and a historic view. Goldman followed him along the hall, and down the stairs.
Seemed like a couple of polite young fellows,' he said.
Yes, they did.'
Bright, too.'
Bright, they always are. Did you know that Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau were once
