The Hunt

you need, I can arrange that. If you’re uncomfortable with Keegan or the situation .

“No sir,” said Donovan with a shrug. “It’s his play, let him run it out. I just hope you won’t be too disappointed when he comes up with He made a circle with thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, I hope he does, Bill,” the president said. “I sincerely hope he does.”

The president twisted a Chesterfield into his ivory cigarette holder. Donovan leaned over and held a lighter to it.

Then he walked to the bar and poured himself another whiskey. “Actually when you think about it, we’re in the same boat as Hitler,” he said. “We have nothing at all to lose, either.”

Roosevelt leaned back with a satisfied grin.

“Excellent,” he said. “Delighted you agree.”

The line for the Staten Island Ferry was shorter than usual. It was below freezing and a harsh wind was blowing up from Hell Gate bringing with it the first hints of a snowstorm. Chunks of ice that had broken off the jetty bobbed in the choppy water. Snow flurries danced in the wind.

Why had he picked this cold dismal day to take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry? Keegan wondered. The man had called him earlier that day.

“Mr. Keegan?”

“Yes.”

“I’m calling on behalf of the colonel”

“The colonel?”

“I believe you have his business card.”

“Oh,” he said. “That colonel.”

“Can you meet me on the upper deck of the Staten Island Ferry this afternoon? There’s one that leaves Manhattan at two thirty.”

“I suppose so. Who is this?”

“Back end of the enclosed area.”

“Who is this?”

“Be reading Life magazine. Good-bye.”

And he had hung up.

Why all the cloak-and-dagger stuff? Keegan wondered. All he wanted to do was look at a few files, for God’s sake.

The guard raised the gates and the stream of cars moved slowly into the tunnel-like parking deck. Keegan set his brakes and went to the second deck of the ferry, a narrow glass-enclosed room with rows of dark-stained wooden benches. The windows were opaque with frost from the cold outside air. Even though heated, the large room was cold and drafty and smelled of oil, saltwater and creosote. Keegan took a seat at the end of the room on the corner of one of the seats and opened his magazine.

The foghorn bleated as the ferry shuddered and backed into the bay. A minute or two later Keegan heard the sliding door behind him open. A cold blast of air whooshed past him as the door rolled shut. Keegan turned back to his magazine and then a voice said, “Mr. Keegan?”

He looked up at the man.

“That’s right.”

The stranger was carrying a small brown paper sack which he held out.

“Peanut?”

“No thanks,” Keegan said.

He was a tall man dressed in a tweed jacket with its collar turned up, a wool turtleneck sweater and a tweed cap. He carried himself erect like a career military man and had an intense look about him, his narrow face dominated by deep-set, piercing eyes and topped by a shock of thick, black hair. He was wearing aviator sunglasses which he whipped off and stuck in his jacket pocket.

“The name’s Smith,” he said, holding out his hand. His voice was pleasant with a hint of southern drawl. As they shook hands, Keegan felt something press into his palm. It was the other half of Donovan’s card.

“Just to make it official,” Smith said.

Keegan took his half out of his pocket and slipped the two sections together. A perfect fit. Keegan smiled up at him.

“Good to see you,” he said.

Smith sat down beside him, leaning back, crossing his legs and stretching his arms out on the back of the bench. Keegan shook his shoulders against the chill and looked around the room.

“What’s the matter, won’t they give you an office?” he asked.

“I’ve had a tail on me all day,” he said. “I dumped them just before I jumped on the ferry. Actually it’s quite an effective maneuver. If they do get aboard they’re easy to spot, in which case of course, I simply would have ignored