The Hunt

“You’re talking about a lot of time and work, Francis,” the president said.

“I’ve got nothing else to do. And if I abuse the privilege you can always revoke my library card.”

“Library card, I like that,” Roosevelt said with a chuckle.

“I’ll pay my own expenses,” Keegan added.

“A dollar-a-year man, eh?” Roosevelt said. The idea was beginning to appeal to him. Since he had become president, Roosevelt had surrounded himself with unpaid advisers from many different fields who were paid a token fee of one dollar a year.

Donovan picked up his glass and took a drink without taking his eyes off Keegan.

“We’re in a curious situation,” Roosevelt said. “I think the three of us would agree that war between Germany and England and France is inevitable. But the American people don’t want to hear about it. I made a speech in Chicago the other night warning the country about the threat of fascism. I thought it would rally the people and I was certainly mistaken about that, my friend. Nobody supported my position. What an outcry! What criticism. It’s a hell of a note, boys, when you’re trying to lead the country and you look over your shoulder and there’s nobody there.”

“America just isn’t ready to face up to it yet,” Donovan offered. “The last war is still fresh in their minds. We’re still getting over the Depression.”

“You’re right, Bill,” Roosevelt said. “Americans won’t accept the reality of totalitarianism right now.” He paused for a moment and took a sip of scotch. “On the other hand, the capture of a dangerous Nazi spy in this country might have a strong effect on public opinion.”

“If such a spy exists,” Donovan said.

“He exists all right,” Keegan said. “I’m just asking you to make the job a little easier because I intend to go after him whether I have your help or not.”

“Now just a damn minute Donovan said angrily.

“Hold on, hold on, boys,” Roosevelt said, his face breaking into the wide grin again. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“There are experts in this field, Keegan,” Donovan said slowly. “Why not let them handle it?”

“Why not let them help me?”

“Listen .

Roosevelt stepped in again.

“Just a minute, Bill. Francis, I’m sure your decision to come to me with this information was not an easy one. What do you say we sleep on the matter? Do you have a card, Bill?”

Donovan handed him an embossed business card. His name was printed across the middle and in the right corner, “The White House” and a phone number. Roosevelt turned it over and scrawled “Franklin” across it, then tore it in half. He handed one half to Keegan.

“If we have a deal, you’ll be contacted by whoever has the other half of this card. Whatever happens, you must be discreet. Bill and I will know about it, possibly one or two other people. I must ask you to keep what you are doing to yourself, Francis.

It is important that we keep this information quiet. If Hoover gets wind of this there’ll be hell to pay and your investigation would be over.”

“I understand, Mr. President.”

“If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, then you must assume I can’t help you.”

“However it bounces,” said Donovan, “this meeting never happened.”

“I understand,” Keegan said.

Roosevelt held out his hand. He was smiling broadly, his cigarette holder cocked toward the ceiling—a familiar pose in photographs. They shook hands.

“You’ve always been a good friend, Francis,” Roosevelt said. “And a discreet one. I assure you, I deeply appreciate this information. And I am deeply sorry about your fiancee.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. I’m flattered you even remembered me.”

Roosevelt’s eyes twinkled. “Now how could I forget you Frankie Kee,” he said with a chuckle.

Keegan had hardly closed the door behind him when Donovan turned to the president.

“He’s awfully arrogant, Mr. President .

“Certainly, Bill, you don’t want a bunch of namby-pambies working for you.”

Donovan looked at the floor and smiled. Roosevelt did have a way of cutting through the bullshit, he thought to himself. He took another tack.

“It sounds preposterous to me,” he said. “I can’t imagine what the Huns would have up their sleeve that could, what did he say, neutralize us?”

Roosevelt didn’t answer. He fiddled with his cigarette holder for a few moments. What indeed, he wondered. The myriad possibilities fascinated him.

“I classify information by letter and number,” Donovan went on. “A-one would be top of the line, A being an unimpeachable source, one being verified information. I would classify Keegan’s data as about . . D-five.”

“I won’t disagree with your judgment on that, Bill,” the president said.