components of the bomb. He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.
'What are you doing?' Cochrane asked.
'May I?' Wheeler motioned toward the bomb.
'You're asking my permission? I work for you, remember?'
Wheeler rested a hand on Cochrane's shoulder, then reached down to the watch. He picked up the bomb's timing mechanism, held it to his ear, then set it back down.
'I'll tell you one thing, Billy Boy,' he said portentously and with tired, raised eyebrows. 'I think you're getting on Brother Bomber's nerves.'
'Is that a fact?' Cochrane looked upward at Wheeler and suddenly felt all of his patience depart him. 'What does that mean?' he snapped. 'Would you stop talking in riddles? It's four A.M. What's going on?'
'Siegfried,' Wheeler explained silkily, 'forgot to wind that watch. It stopped at one fifty-two. I reckon that's why you're alive.'
With wide, confused eyes, Cochrane turned and assessed again the components that he had just separated. 'I defused it,' he said.
'It was already dead. Lucky for everyone, of course.' Wheeler spoke calmly and gracefully. Cochrane was suddenly aware that the bomb squad members were now forming a small audience. 'I defused it!' he insisted again.
'Yes, Bill. I know.'
Cochrane's head shot upward and he glared furiously at Wheeler. 'Well, sure enough, he's starting to make mistakes!” Cochrane insisted. “That proves it! I'm closing in on him! I'll have him in another week. You'll see!'
'Bill…'
'You tell Hoover that! One more week and I'll give him Siegfried's head on a plate.'
Wheeler eased to a crouching position, then sat down next to Cochrane.
'Bill, a decision has been made at headquarters,” Wheeler said. “There's going to be a change.'
For several long seconds, Cochrane stared at Wheeler. 'What are you talking about?'
'I want you to go home and get some rest. Be in J. Edgar's conference room not this morning, but tomorrow morning. We'll run through everything then. Don't do anything further on the case.'
'No, I will not go home and get some rest! Would you tell me what's going on?'
Wheeler looked away, then looked back. 'You're being dismissed,' Wheeler said. It was too absurd to comprehend. It had to be another of those wretched dreams. He began to laugh.
'That's nonsense! Dismissed from Siegfried just when I'm lining him up? Idiotic! Hoover wouldn't dare!'
Wheeler appeared truly uneasy with what followed. But he managed the words, anyway. 'You're being dismissed, Bill. And it's not just the case. It's dismissed from theBureau. Do you understand that? You've been fired.'
THIRTY-THREE
Hoover sat at the head of the table and glared when Cochrane entered. They were in the second-floor conference room again, arranged at proper intervals around the oval table, and if the last meeting had been a war party, this was to be the burning at the stake.
Lerrick was two seats away from Hoover to the right and Wheeler was three empty spaces to the left, almost suggesting that Cochrane take a seat directly across from the Chief.
'Come in! Sit down!' Hoover growled, drumming his fingers on the table, his round swollen face getting redder by the second. 'Let's get on with it!'
Cochrane noted that he was ten minutes early and the other three men were already there. Usually Hoover was the last to enter. The door was still open.
Hoover glanced over his shoulder. 'Where's Adam?' he asked. And suddenly an entire vista of disbelief overtook Cochrane.
Adam Hay padded softly into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked at Cochrane, then approached a seat directly next to Hoover, with Lerrick on his other side. Cochrane had the notion of watching a small boy called into a meeting of adults, taking up a position between his parents.
The chair squeaked as Adam Hay pulled it out and tucked himself into the table. Dick Wheeler made a comical sour face, and even Frank Lerrick turned his head away to mask a grin. Cochrane, confronted with the absurd, was not smiling. Seated, the small archivist was the same height as when he had been standing.
Hoover was all business.
'Listen to me very carefully, Special Agent Cochrane. This is an unpleasant meeting, but you deserve your own say before any departmental action is taken.'
Meaning, it's already decided, Cochrane thought bitterly.
'Mr. Hay,' Hoover began, 'has been a very valuable member of this Bureau since 1931. I dare say, Special Agent Cochrane, that our archives would not function without him. Yet, Mr. Hay has reported to Personnel'- Cochrane's eyes shifted to Lerrick, who seemed to be memorizing something invisible on the table- 'that you've been engaged in bullying, abusive behavior toward him. What have you to say?'
'Behavior of what sort?' Cochrane asked.
Hoover stared at him, then, with evident displeasure, opened a file in front of him. He read a thorough account of Cochrane's efforts to pry Otto Mauer's name, town, and state from him. The account mentioned Arlington Park, the hours up in the archives, and visits from various unnamed other members of the Bureau, i.e., the Bluebirds.
'What have you to say?' Hoover asked.
'Substantially accurate,' Cochrane answered.
Hoover flipped the file shut. 'Any explanation?'
'Yes, indeed,' said Cochrane, his anger rising. 'I'm trying to catch a man who is intent on killing President Roosevelt. The info-'
'Cochrane!' Hoover raged, hitting a fist on the desk and turning violet. 'There are rules in this Bureau! Do you understand that? Rules have to be followed! This was explained to you once before!'
'There is no way,' Cochrane began defenselessly, 'that I could humanly complete the job I've been assigned without talking to the one defector who-'
'The German,' agreed Hoover in a flash. 'That's what makes your behavior all the less pardonable. You were distinctly forbidden to contact Mr… Mr…'
'Mauer,' Lerrick interjected, helping the Chief.
'Mauer. But you attempted anyway. Did you find him?'
'With Mr. Hay's help, yes. Yes, I did.'
'What was the nature of your discussions with Otto Mauer?' Hoover asked as Mr. Hay belched softly.
Cochrane paused before answering. An entire kaleidoscope of distrust was before him now. He began to edit his own answers.
'I wanted to know how he had reached America.'
'He reached safely. That was all you needed to know.'
Cochrane felt Lerrick's eyes and Wheeler's eyes boring in on him.
'I needed to know about Abwehr structure.'
Wheeler summoned the nerve to interrupt. 'Bill,' he said sorrowfully, 'your German isn't a reliable source. Don't you think we would have let you use him if we considered him reliable?'
'He is reliable!' Cochrane shot back. 'And why you don't want me to use him raises more questions than I can count.'
Wheeler's bushy eyebrows lowered severely. 'Now, what in hell is that supposed to mean?' he asked.
'It doesn't-'
'And, uh, one other thing'-Frank Lerrick speaking suddenly-'these other 'Bluebirds' who helped you torment our friend here. Would you care to give us the names?'
'No,' Cochrane answered, 'I wouldn't care to. Does Roosevelt know there's a man stalking him?'
