together!
For a short while, very closely.'
'What did they do?'
Zenger's face took on a dyspeptic look.
'What the hell do you think they did? They made money. Take that literally.'
Thomas eased back in his chair slightly and massaged the side of his skull with his hand and Leslie's handkerchief.
'What about the war?' Thomas asked.
'World War Two.'
'The Allies beat the Axis ' 'I'm talking about De Septio' 'He was in the army.'
'That's not a good enough answer. De Septio doesn't have an army record.'
'He certainly does-,' said Zenger quickly, in a response that Thomas believed.
'But maybe he was a little embarrassed to tell anyone about it.' A faint smile returned to Zenger. He laid his cane aside.
'Know what his job was for five years?'
'That was my next question.'
'Trash collection, 'said Zengtr casually. Thomas voiced no response, so Zenger, almost merrily, repeated.
'That's right. Trash collection' 'I don't understand' 'Of course not' said Zenger.
'There's nothing to understand. De Septio collected trash for five years in the army. Imagine. Pearl Harbor. Iwojima. The Bulge.
Berlin. Stalingrad. And Vincent De Septio was busy picking up trash.'
The old man laughed like an elf.
'something's missing' 'You don't believe me?' Zenger's eyebrows shot upward, as if recoiling from an affront.
'No,' said Thomas crisply.
'Then you can ask Mr. De Septio yourself.'
Leslie leaned forward, as if suddenly absorbed in what Zenger was saying. Thomas noted her movement.
'What do you mean?' asked Thomas.
'That was your next question, wasn't it? You've done your homework, I can see that. You were going to ask me where De Septio went after 1954, weren't you? You wanted to know why his case got tossed out and where he went. Didn't you?'
Humbled slightly, Thomas replied,
'Yes' Zenger had jumped ahead of him again. They both knew it.
'Do you know anything about patriotism, Thomas?'
'Patriotism?'
'No ' scoffed Zenger.
'Of course not. The younger, folks don't even know the word anymore' '
Zenger's eyes burned at Daniels.
'Vinnie De Septio, whatever else his faults, was a patriot. That's why, despite his transgressions, the government chose twice not to prosecute him. Patriotism, Thomas,' Zenger continued in lofty tones and after a slight pause. The old man glanced at Leslie.
'That's what this is all about He raised a finger and stabbed at her.
'That's what she's all about. Remember that, you young moron. You heard it here first.'
Thomas let the insult pass.
'Where's De Septio?' he asked.
'In a town in Pennsylvania. A town outside of Scranton. It's called Barnstable. De Septio retired from crime in 1954. Out of gratitude, the government gave him a new identity, a new name, and a new start in life.' Zenger was philosophical.
'I've always liked that phrase, 'a new start in life' 'What's his new name?'; 'New? We're talking about twenty-one years'' taunted the old man.
'But the name is jonathan Grover. He's easy enough to find.
He's the only one in town by that name,' Zenger smiled.
'Runs a stationery store. Get it? He prints stationery now, not money. And he will have been undisturbed for many years until you darken his doorstep ' Zenger paused.
'Anything else?'
Thomas shook his head. The left temple still throbbed. He felt Leslie's hand on his shoulder and glanced at her to see if she had any questions for Zenger. She shook her head. She didn't.
'That's all,' Thomas said.
'You better hope so. You're never getting into this house again. If I ever see you or expect you again, I'll have our local gendarmes waiting. The police like me here' he added with cynicism.
Thomas motioned toward the' door to Leslie. Without speaking they rose from their chairs and returned toward the front door.
Thomas could feel the old man's icy gaze on his back the entire time and he somehow felt, though he'd gotten the answers he'd come for, that the old master had ended with the upper hand again.
That feeling was reinforced as Thomas opened the front door to leave.
'Hey Tom, boy!' called the old man from the next room. Thomas looked to his left as he felt the rainy night before him through the open door. Down to his left through the alcove he could see into the sitting room. He looked squarely at the old man, seated merrily again in his chair despite the broken table and lamp beside him.
'Tom, boy!' Zenger called.
'There's something else. As long as I'm in the business of shattering images this evening. I've got something else.'
Daniels stood in the doorway, saying nothing but waiting to hear.
Leslie stood outside, struggling to put up an umbrella against the rain.
'Do you know what your own old man did during the war? Big brave Bill Daniels? Remember all those high command stories he told you when you were a boy? A younger boy?'
Thomas listened, waiting.
'A pack of lies, Tommy. A mound of bullshit'' shouted the old man enthusiastically.
'You can check it for yourself, but Bill Daniels sat on his cowardly ass in New York for the whole war. He was a recruiting sergeant. Get that? Too chickenshit to go out and pull a trigger himself So he lined up other people to do the fighting. Ask De Septio what a'recruiting sergeant' is, if you live long enough to find him!'
The old man had a rattling, cackling laugh like that of the Devil himself The laughter resounded in Daniels's ears until he quickly bolted forward into the rain and closed the door. He took Leslie's arm and huddled with her very closely beneath the protection of the umbrella. Mercifully, it took only a few steps before the maniacal laughter from the sitting room was drowned by the fury of the cold rain. Moments later, Thomas and Leslie huddled into the chilly car.
He was angry, disgusted. Her mind was flashing, inquisitive.
'How well do you know him?' she asked.
'The more I see him, the less I think I know him he answered, starting the car and gunning the engine. He glanced at her, frowning slightly and seeing her face illuminated dimly by the house lights.
'I've seen him only a few times in my life,' he admitted, 'even though he was my father's partner. Why?'
'He says I'm an impostor. I say he's lying' she explained briskly and incisively.
'I wanted to know whom yore inclined to believe ' He started to pull the car away from Zenger's isolated driveway' My father gave me a few pieces of good advice in his lifetime' he said.
'One tidbit was,
'Never trust the lawyer for the opposition.
Assume he's lying.'
