you.”
“You think the Germans have people following you? Isn’t that a bit paranoid?” Keegan asked.
“Not the Germans, Mr. Keegan,” Smith said in a patronizing tone. “Hoover’s boys. They have two teams on me. They know I work for Donovan and Hoover wants to know every move he makes. That’s the reason for all the inconvenience. If they tie us together they’ll be all over you, too. You’ll never get anything done.”
“Why is FDR so nervous about Hoover? He’s the President of the United States, for God’s sake.”
“Because Hoover was appointed for life. Nobody can fire him without a damn good reason and that makes Mr. Hoover a very powerful man. The president does not want him as an adversary.”
“Hoover’s really that way, huh?”
“Little Napoleon? I’m surprised he doesn’t walk around with his hand in his vest speaking French.”
“You mean we’re going to have to sneak around and meet like this from now on?” Keegan said.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I feel like a married man cheating on his wife, Mr. Smith.”
“Bizarre notion,” Smith said.
“I assume we have a deal,” Keegan said.
“Yes,” Smith drawled. “Here’s the situation. I’ll be your contact man. You need anything, anytime, you contact me. You get in trouble, you contact me. You get arrested, sick, need to go to the hospital, you contact me. Nobody else.
“Sure. Kind of like rubbing a bottle and a genie pops out. Only you’re the genie.”
His genie ignored his analogy. “I just put a briefcase in your trunk. It contains everything you’ll need to get started. I’d like the case back. It’s my personal property. Abercrombie and Fitch.”
“How the hell did you get in my trunk?”
“I picked the lock.”
Keegan laughed. “You and I are going to get along,” he said.
“I hope you don’t make my life miserable, Mr. Keegan. I have this feeling you could make it a living hell.”
Keegan laughed. “I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Smith.”
“I’d like you to run things by me. I’d like to know what you’re up to. Since I’m your only contact with Washington, it’s important that you keep me up-to-date.”
Smith broke open another peanut, letting the shells drop into the bag. “Sure you won’t have a peanut? Straight from Georgia.”
“No thanks. Just don’t cramp my style, okay?”
Smith glared at him for a moment, then went on. “Now listen, this is important. I don’t know what you’re looking for, Mr. Keegan, but be as subtle as possible. Anybody asks what you’re doing for White House Security, tell them security checks and background.”
“Security checks and background.”
“Right. You don’t mention me or Donovan to anybody and you never even
“You call him the Boss, huh? You must be right on up there.”
“I couldn’t get a private meeting with him on twenty-four hours’ notice.
Keegan chuckled. What it really was was $350,000 in campaign donations and four years selling the old boy his booze.
“You certainly have a lot of muscle to have pulled
“Just logic,” Keegan said.
“It’s logical to send a rich businessman on the trail of a Nazi spy?”
“Why not? Look, I’m sure you have the whole resume on me, Mr. Smith, but let me tell you something. When it comes to advice I have unlimited resources in just about any field you can imagine. Experts, Mr. Smith. If I don’t know how to do something, I can find out in short order. If I need information, I can get it. A virgin heater? Nothing to it. And as far as the FBI goes, I’m sure you know I dodged the feds for six years. They never even had a good description of me. I’ve thought a lot about Twenty-seven. If we catch him it’s going to take a lot of logic— and a lot more luck. I’m a logical man and I have my share of Irish luck. True, I’ll be flying by the seat of my pants but what’s the alternative—give the information to Hoover and have him file it under Forget it’?”
“It seemed like a bad call to me, Mr. Keegan, but I’m not calling the shots.”
“Just what do you do exactly?” Keegan asked. “Do you have a title? Everybody in Washington seems to have a title.”
“No title.”
“What’s your job?”
“I get things done, Mr. Keegan.”
“You’re Mr. Smith and you get things done?”
“Precisely. And my name
