'I believe in God.'
'Well, I don't want to marry you either.'
'You're just sore because she lied to you about Hans.'
'I'm sore because I wanted her and never had her,' said Younger. 'Freud was right — I do mistreat women. Once I have them, I don't want them anymore. I use them up. I can't stand the sight of them after three months, and I toss them aside. She's better off with Hans. Much better.'
'She doesn't want Hans. She changed her mind.'
'And she'll change it again,' said Younger. He finished off his glass and spoke more quietly: 'You think she's forgotten him — the man she was engaged to? That's not how women work. I'll tell you what's going to happen. She'll go looking for him. Count on it. Sooner or later, she'll realize she needs to see her Hans again — just once — just to be sure.'
Stirrings came from down the hall, then footsteps. The men glanced at each other. Colette entered the room, squinting, wearing a nightgown too large for her, borrowed from Littlemore's wife. Only youth is beautiful at six in the morning; Colette, despite a confusion of hair, was beautiful. Both men rose.
'Morning, Miss,' said Littlemore. 'Coffee?'
'Yes, please — oh, I'll do it; sit down, you two invalids,' she answered. Bursts of hot water were sputtering in the glass button on the coffee pot's lid. Rubbing her eyes, Colette saw the empty whiskey bottle on the table. 'Isn't that illegal here?'
'You can drink it at home,' said Littlemore; 'you just can't buy it or sell it. Great policy. A lot of folks are making spirits in their bathtubs.
Say, I never complimented you, Miss, on that trick you pulled last night — getting them to steal your radium so we could trace you.'
'Thank you, Jimmy,' said Colette. 'I was lucky.'
'She did that on purpose?' asked Younger.
'Sure,' said Littlemore. 'Kind of obvious, Doc. How many times did the kidnappers go to the Miss's hotel room?'
'I don't know — twice?' asked Younger.
'Twice,' agreed Littlemore. 'The first time, they took Luc. They already had him when you called, remember? But when we got there, Drobac was in the hallway with his pockets stuffed, and the ash next to the Miss's case was still warm. In other words, he went back a second time, and that's when he took the elements. So why didn't he take them the first time if they were worth all that dough? Because he didn't know about them. How'd he find out about them? The Miss must have told him. The only question was whether she let it slip by accident or on purpose. Given how smart the Miss is, I had to figure on purpose.'
Younger nodded. 'I'm impressed — doubly impressed.'
'I have to go back, Stratham,' said Colette.
'To the hotel?' asked Younger.
'To Europe.' Colette unplugged the percolator. She poured coffee.
Littlemore looked at Younger.
'You can't — you're in charge of Boltwood's laboratory,' said Younger. 'Don't judge America because of what happened yesterday. It's safe here.'
'It's not that,' she answered. 'I received a letter. From Austria. It was in the mail that Jimmy's friend Spanky brought back from the hotel.'
'Stanky, Miss,' said Littlemore. 'Not Spanky.'
Younger said nothing.
'Who was the letter from?' asked Littlemore.
'From a policeman who helped me once when I was in Vienna,' she replied. 'Hans is getting out of jail, Stratham. In just a few weeks. I have to go back.'
Part 2
Chapter Eight
The morning after the attack, a hundred thousand people gathered on Wall Street.
They came unbidden, drawn by the afterimages of devastation, the lingering proximity of death. Some were gawkers from out of town. Others had employment in the financial district. But most drifted in like wanderers, with no articulate aim, moved by a need they could not have explained, as if being there might somehow supply a void they felt without knowing they felt it.
As a result, the Constitution Day celebration was the largest the country had ever known. Workmen laboring all night erected a wooden platform in front of George Washington's bronze statue. Bunting had been hung in red, white, and blue, festooned with American flags. With a fully armed company of solders still guarding the Treasury Building, the impression created was halfway between a holiday and a siege.
Patriotic speeches were made. America the Beautiful' was sung, tears glistening on thousands of faces. While the words 'sea to shining sea' still echoed in the great canyons of lower Manhattan, a ruddy, white- whiskered brigadier general took the podium. The crowd quieted.
'September sixteenth,' he proclaimed, his voice echoing off the skyscrapers. 'A date America will never forget. September sixteenth — the date on which Americans will say for the rest of time that our country changed forever. September sixteenth. On this spot where we now stand, one of the greatest outrages committed in the history of our country was perpetrated. Are we, as American citizens, going to close our eyes to this infamy? I say no, a thousand times no.'
The word was repeated thousands of times more.
The Brigadier General held up his arms, checking the crowd's cheers: 'The vampires must and will be brought to justice.'
Thunderous applause.
'Ladies and gentlemen, I have spoken this morning with Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer,' he went on, and the name of Palmer brought fresh cheers and foot stamping. 'General Palmer wished to be here himself this morning, but alas it couldn't be. The General desires me to assure you, however, not only that he is on the way to our city at this very moment but that he already knows the identity of the perpetrators of this outrage. Yes, he has their confession — their boastful confession — in hand. And he has a message both for us and for our enemies. General Palmer says, and I quote, that he 'will sweep the nation clean of their alien filth'!'
There was a roar of satisfaction and a thrilling chorus of 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' On the stage a young man stepped forward and began the national anthem. A hundred thousand voices made vigorous harmony.
Younger was writing a letter at a small table in the Littlemores' living room when he sensed, rather than heard, Luc behind him.
In the previous hour, Betty Littlemore had clothed, fed, and packed off to school an endless string of little Littlemores. The apartment was still not wholly peaceful: babies cried, toddlers banged cooking pots, and the detective's wife and mother-in-law were discoursing volubly in the kitchen. Younger couldn't understand their Italian, but the topic was evidently a matter on which both women had strong opinions.
Younger turned to face Luc. The boy stood on the other side of the room, perfectly still, saying as usual nothing. His long dirty blond hair was well brushed, and his large observant eyes conveyed preoccupation with a multitude of thoughts, without giving a single one of them away.
'Your sister has told you,' said Younger in French, 'that she plans to take you back to Europe.'
Luc nodded.
'And you're wondering if I intend to change her mind.'
The boy nodded again.
'The answer is no. She knows what's best.'
Luc shook his head — just once, very slightly.
'Yes, she does,' said Younger. He put down his pen, leaned back, looked out the window. Then he turned
