does for a man — other than setting him temporarily free from the Missus — is that it makes him an American. I ain't a New Mexican here, and you ain't a New Yorker. We're Americans. You can open your eyes now, see the big picture, do something for your country.'
'I don't follow you, Mr Senator.'
'Look around the world today. It's Bolshevik terrorists everywhere. They took down the Tsar. They took over Germany. Hungary, Austria. They're crawling all over France and Spain and Italy. Lenin says he's coming for us. Nobody listens. They already got Mexico, right next door. Now how do the bolshies work? Stand up and fight against you? No. Reason with you? No. They infiltrate. They bomb — and they bribe. That's their means. That's what they did in Russia, and it sure worked there. That's what they're doing here.'
'You're saying the bombers were foreign, but they paid off someone in our government to help them?'
'You don't think the Feds can be bribed?'
'To help foreigners bomb us? That would be treason, Mr Fall.'
'You got no idea what this town is like, Agent Littlemore. Gaudy and statesmanlike on the outside, rotten to the core on the inside. Ten grand will buy you a US congressman. We senators are a little pricier. Everybody in this town's got an angle. Everybody's looking to make out. Even Mrs Cross here is looking to make out, aren't you, honey?'
Fall extended his empty shot glass in Mrs Cross's direction. She refilled it — and topped it off with milk. He drank it, grimacing.
'This is war, Littlemore. We're under attack. They blew us to hell on September sixteenth. They blew us to hell!' Fall slammed his fist on his desk; the sound echoed between the bookcases. He lowered his voice: 'And they'll do it again. Why wouldn't they?'
'You think Russia is behind the bombing, Senator?' asked Littlemore.
'You bet I do. Who else would dare to make war against the United States of America? They know we sent our army into Siberia last year. Why, they practically got the right to attack us back. What other country has a motive? What other country would want to bring us down?'
'I don't know, Mr Fall.'
'Well, I do,' said Fall. 'Listen to me. I'm going to tell you how history should go, son — how the history of the rest of this century should go. We got a million-plus army of soldiers, trained, ready to be mobilized right now. We could take down this Soviet dictatorship. This is the time. This is the only time. They just got whipped in Poland. They got a civil war on their hands. The Russian people don't want a dictatorship. Why, Lenin's got fifty, sixty thousand people in jail already just for speaking up against Bolshevism. The Russian people want freedom. We can help them. And if we don't, son, nobody will be able to stop this red juggernaut. We got a little window here, and it's closing fast. These communists don't just want Russia. They're mean, nasty sons of bitches — you mark my words — and they want to rule the world. That's right: they want to rule the world. They hate freedom. They hate Christ. They will fill the world with darkness for a hundred years. And there ain't no one in this government doing a damn thing about it. Wilson's a cripple. Only thing he cared about was his League of Nations. Palmer's on his way out. Bill Flynn's an idiot. Houston's a moneychanger. Who's protecting the country, goddamn it? Who's protecting the world?'
The Senator was roused again. His fist shook in the air. The sound of applause — a single pairs of hands, slowly clapping — surprised Littlemore. It was Mrs Cross.
'You cut that out,' Fall said to her, calming down. 'She thinks I take myself too seriously. Maybe I do. Here's the point. You want to get somewhere in this town? You got to hitch yourself to the right horse. Warren Harding's going to be elected president in three weeks. Houston's not going to be secretary of shee-it after that. I am. You want to do something for your country? Houston only cares about the gold. I care about freedom. I care about whether our citizens are going to be able to walk their streets in peace or get blown up by our enemies. That jackass Flynn with his Italian anarchists! It was the Russians, damn them, and if we can prove it, the country will go to war. That's why I need you, Littlemore. If you show Houston evidence — hard evidence — proving the Russians did it, know what he'll do? Nothing. He'll bury it. Just let me in on at that evidence if you find it. That's all I ask. Will you do that?'
Littlemore had not answered when they heard a knock at the main door to the Senator's chamber. The door opened, revealing a harried secretary and a well-dressed man behind her, straining to get past her. The woman had managed only to say, 'I'm sorry, Mr Senator, I told him you were busy,' when the man, completely bald except for a tuft of hair behind each of his ears, pushed brazenly and clumsily past her.
It was Mr Arnold Brighton, owner of factories, oil wells, and mines, who had contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to the Marie Curie Radium Fund.
'My people are being run out of Mexico,' declared Brighton without introduction. 'They're Americans, Fall. They're in danger.'
'Day late, nickel short, Brighton,' said Fall. 'Make an appointment. Get in line.'
'I tried to make an appointment,' complained Brighton, sounding genuinely aggrieved. 'They said you were busy.'
'I am busy,' shouted Fall. 'We're electing a president here, in case you haven't noticed.'
'I guess I'll be leaving,' said Littlemore.
'Wait just a minute, Littlemore,' said Fall. 'We didn't finish.'
'Is that Detective Littlemore?' asked Brighton. 'I've been meaning to thank you, Detective. Without your help, I–I — what was it again? Oh, my. I've forgotten. What was it I wanted to thank Detective Littlemore for?'
'How the hell would we know what you were going to thank him for?' roared Fall.
'Where's Samuels?' asked Mr Brighton plaintively. 'Samuels is my assistant. He would remember. Does anyone know where Samuels is?'
Fall seemed to exercise a great power of self-restraint in order to lower his voice: 'I'm in the middle of an important conversation, Brighton. Step outside and talk to my secretary.'
'But this Obregon fellow is taking over my mines in Mexico,' said Brighton. 'The oil wells will be next. Everything. He's sending in soldiers — with guns, for heaven's sakes! These are American workingmen. There have been beatings and death threats. You've got to do something. I know I didn't give money to Harding. It's not my fault. Everyone told me the other man, Cox, was going to win. I'll give now. Whatever amount you ask. Tell me where to send it. Just drop a few bombs on Mexico City — perhaps on their capitol and in the nicer parts of town — I'm sure they'll see the light.'
Fall took a long time before answering: 'You turn my stomach, Brighton. Know that? I ain't for sale. The Republican Party ain't for sale. The US army ain't for sale. I'm not going to let Harding get bogged down in Mexico, and I'm not going to use the army to take care of your business.'
'You won't help Americans in Mexico?' asked Brighton.
'They're your employees,' replied Fall. 'You help them.'
Brighton looked confused, at a loss. 'Is that all?'
'You bet that's all. Now git.' Fall took Brighton by the arm and ushered him into the other room, from which Littlemore heard Brighton asking if anyone knew where Samuels was.
'I'll be going too, Mr Fall,' said Littlemore when the Senator returned.
'I asked you a question, Littlemore,' replied Fall. 'Will you show me your evidence if you tie the bombing to the Russians?'
'I can't promise that, Mr Senator. But I'll think about what you said.'
On the steps of the Senate Office Building, Mrs Cross — seeing Littlemore out — said, 'Well, didn't you charm the Senator?'
'Is that right?' asked Littlemore.
'That's right. You stood up to him. He likes that. You could go far in this town. If you learned how to dress.'
'Something wrong with how I'm dressed?'
She reached out and fixed his jacket collar, one wing of which was saluting rather than lying down flat. 'What party are you, Agent Littlemore?' she asked. 'Are you a Democrat, like Secretary Houston? Or a Republican, like Senator Fall?'
'I don't belong to any party, ma'am.'
'No? Well, who do you like, Cox or Harding?'
