the Hope diamond, and a prominent if eccentric D.C. socialite and party-giver. Evalyn was a friend of Pearson’s first wife and her mother.
The initial work I’d done for the columnist had been so long ago, it well predated my relationship with Forrestal, and had apparently not made my FBI file, or Baughman would have rubbed my face in it, the other night.
And the government apparently wasn’t aware that, as I’d mentioned to Jack Anderson, I’d done some work in Chicago for Pearson, not long ago, despite swearing I never would again, as he really was the cheapest son of a bitch on the planet. He negotiated you down to nothing, then took forever to pay.
“Your client’s ignorance of our past history,” Pearson said, “puts you in a delicate position, Nathan-and me at an advantage.”
“Sure it’s not the other way around,” I asked, “since I know how you’re getting inside info from Forrestal’s house? If I tell Jim about that colored maid, he’ll fire her … but then, of course, maybe you could hire her as your next secretary.”
He just smiled, corners of his mustache up, eyes lost in slits. “For a man who’s been in your tawdry profession for as long as you have, Nathan, you have a less than firm grasp of blackmail.”
“Well, hell … then I’ll defer to the master.”
That didn’t seem to offend him in the least. Amid the mess on his desk was a glass jar filled with small chocolate chip cookies; he lifted the lid, plucked one out and began nibbling it. “Would you like one, Nathan? Anya made them.”
“How much are they?”
“Now that’s unkind. I pride myself on being a gracious host. You’re the one charging fees; you’re the tradesman.”
“And knowing your politics, Drew, I’m sure you mean that in the nicest way, friend to the working-man that you are.”
He took a last bite of cookie, chewed it and swallowed before speaking. “How do you think Jim Forrestal-in his current delicate mental condition-would react to the news that his trusted investigator has done numerous jobs for his archnemesis-yours truly?”
Obviously, it would further fuel his paranoid delusions and I’d be out on my ass.
But I said, “Jim knows I’m not terribly particular about who I work for.”
Pearson selected another cookie. “And does he know your loyalty is to the dollar?”
“Now
He bristled a little, leaned back in the chair. “My stock-in-trade is telling the truth, and letting the chips fall where they may.”
Chocolate or otherwise.
“Telling the truth, Drew, like that story about Forrestal running away from robbers who stripped his wife of her jewels and money? The truth is, Jo Forrestal was on her way home from a party, with another man, and Forrestal wasn’t even at the scene. You knew that and printed the lie, anyway.”
He shrugged, rocking gently, nibbling his cookie. “It could have been worse-I could have told the real truth: that he and his wife live a sham marriage.”
I laughed, once. “You can say that with a straight face, while Miss Yugoslavia 1946 is out in the other room buttering your scones?”
He frowned and his close-set eyes almost crossed.
“Jesus, Drew-can you imagine, a proud guy like Forrestal, responsible for the safety of his country, how a false accusation of base cowardice could affect him?”
The smile returned; he looked like your rich uncle. “Please, Nathan. You don’t wear moral indignation very well. Come on, man! People forget that I’m trying to do something for my country, and the world.”
“By lying to ruin a man’s reputation?”
“In politics, questionable actions are often employed for desirable goals.”
“The ends justify the means, you mean.”
“Isn’t that how you operate? I’m well acquainted with your mode of operation, Nathan.”
I sat forward. “What the hell’s the idea of putting all your muscle behind destroying an able, dedicated guy like Jim Forrestal?”
“Sure he’s able,” Pearson huffed. “Of course he’s dedicated. But to what? He’s a man who lives only for himself. He’s broken his word, turned his back on his friends …”
This was rich, coming from the guy who stole “Washington Merry-Go-Round” from Bob Allen.
“… and he’s driven by one ambition and one ambition only: to be top man, first of Wall Street, then the cabinet, and now he’s got his eye on the presidency. And were he president, with his worldview that the godless, evil Soviet Union is on the verge of invading us, we’d find ourselves in a catalysmic world war. He has to be stopped. I
“You’ve crushed him, Drew.”
“Then good for me.” Pearson was shaking his head. “He’s been a law unto himself, Nathan, and behavior like that can’t be countenanced.”
“From a public official, you mean. It wins columnists Pulitzers.”
“Listen, my friend, Jim Forrestal has nurtured, has created, this nightmarish Central Intelligence Agency, and mark my words, America will suffer the consequences for decades. And before he had that charming organization up and running, peddling its counterintelligence and counterinsurgency around the world, he would step in himself, raising huge funds from his rich friends to pay off railroad strikers in France, to buy off politicians in Italy-”
“Save it for the broadcast.”
He arched an eyebrow. “All right. Since you seem disapproving of my campaign-
“Why were
The smile turned sly again; he stroked his purring pussy and said, “Well … I thought, as someone who’s spent time with Forrestal … who has his ear, his trust … you could, you might, let me know just how far around the bend he is.”
“Why, so you can put it on the radio tonight?”
“Yes,” he said, with no shame. “It appears to me that Forrestal has gone off his rocker. That he’s mad as a hatter. And if I could say that, with confidence, on the air, it would be a great service to our country.”
“Jesus! Suppose the guy
“You don’t think the country has a right to know that its Secretary of Defense is a madman? I want to know how long he’s been demented, I want to know what orders, policies, security breaches might be ascribed to his mental state! If a raving lunatic has made government policy, mightn’t we want to undertake a critical review of those policies?”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I haven’t seen a ‘raving lunatic’-just a man battered down by years of hard work for his country, and maybe buckling a little under your barrage of bullshit.”
He rocked gently. “I ask again, Nathan: why did you want to see me today?”
“To ask you, out of common decency, not to broadcast any speculation about Jim Forrestal’s mental condition. He’s quitting tomorrow-give him a chance to go out with a little goddamn dignity.”
Both eyebrows lifted. “This is unexpected, Nathan.”
“What is?”
“The milk of human kindness in one so monetary.”
“Why don’t you surprise me, Drew, and behave like the liberal lover of mankind you pretend to be: give the guy a fucking break.”
He thought about that, as he scratched his cat’s neck. Finally he said, “All right. But if Forrestal gets back into the political fray, all bets are off.”
I hadn’t expected it to be this easy; frankly, I hadn’t expected him to go along with me at all.
“Understood,” I said.
“But … I need a favor of you, in return.”
