“My source is impeccable,” Keegan insisted.
“Where did you get this tip?” asked Donovan.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“I think I can promise you the information will never leave this room,” Roosevelt said softly, his smile still staunch. “Don’t you trust us, Francis?”
“Of course I do, Mr. President. But I made a promise.”
“I appreciate that,” said Roosevelt. ‘On the other hand, Bill has a point. It would help if we can judge the validity of your information.”
“Have you ever heard of an organization called Black Lily?”
A flicker of recognition in Donovan’s eyes. Roosevelt looked at him with eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Donovan said.
“It came from the head of Black Lily.”
“You
Keegan nodded. Donovan was skeptical. He looked at the president and rolled his eyes. Keegan decided it was time to take a round or two in this mental boxing march.
“His name is Avrum Wolffson,” Keegan said, and Donovan’s amazed reaction told Roosevelt that Keegan had won the first knockdown in the delicate match.
“Does that jibe with your information, Bill?” the president asked.
“I’ve heard the name mentioned,” Donovan said cautiously, still not willing to give up the round.
“Wolffson is unquestionably the head of Black Lily,” Keegan said with finality. “He’s been head of it since it was formed at the University of Berlin in 1933. One of his chief lieutenants was a young man named Joachim Weber. Weber was murdered by Nazi agents in Zurich two years ago. Wolffson’s reaction was radical. He struck back, killed one agent in Zurich and another in Vienna. But the one known as
Roosevelt settled back in his wheelchair, getting rather perverse enjoyment out of watching the two men spar with each other. Donovan, a bit flabbergasted by the flood of information, was subdued.
“And how did this Wolffson find out there was a spy in his outfit?” Donovan asked, still skeptical.
“The infiltrator used the name Isaac Fish. The real Fish was a prisoner at Dachau. He was executed along with fifty other inmates as an example after an aborted escape attempt. Wolffson got a list of the hostages who were murdered
“Oh, now really Donovan started but Keegan cut him off. He handed him the tattered list of dead hostages.
“This is the list,” said Keegan.
Donovan took the sheet reluctantly and scanned it. He looked up at Keegan suspiciously.
“Where the hell did you get this?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Colonel, I can’t tell you that.”
“You expect us to believe you’re privy to this kind of information?”
“I think it speaks for itself,” Keegan answered. “Wolffson was . . . coaxing. . . information out of Fish when he spilled the beans about the three agents.”
“Wait a minute,” said Donovan, shaking his head. “I know for a fact that Black Lily isn’t involved in that kind of thing.”
“It is now, Colonel. It isn’t a
“Jesus!” Donovan exploded. “Where the hell did you learn all this?!”
“The first name on that list is Jennifer Gould,” Keegan said. “She was my fiancee and Avrum Wolffson’s half- sister.”
There was stunned silence in the railroad car.
“Do you know about this unit, Bill?” Roosevelt interrupted. Donovan nodded slowly.
“And she was
“She was buried alive,” Keegan said. “Along with fifty other prisoners.”
“Good God!” Roosevelt exclaimed. A silence followed, a respectful silence that was finally broken by a now soft-spoken Donovan.
“How fresh is this information?”
“I learned it eight days ago.”
Roosevelt leaned back in his chair again and stared at a corner of the car. According to Hoover, there were several Nazi agents in America. The FBI had been investigating their ties to the German-American Bund for over a year. But Hoover had never come up with such specific information.
“Do you have anything else on this man?” Donovan asked.
