'Thanks, Billy.'
'Don't thank me, Jack. Harry's going to hear about this. You can count on it.'
Indy had no idea what Shannon's brother had to do with the cop. As they hurried toward the campus, Indy's torn gown flapped like a flag behind him. 'Your brother's not a cop, is he, Jack?'
An angry scowl tightened Shannon's face. 'No, but he's got friends. Billy Flannery is from the neighborhood.'
'But what were they doing?'
'Putting a small-time competitor out of business. Har ry's got territory to maintain.'
'The cops work for your brother?'
'Wake up, Indy. They all work for the organization, and Harry's a charter member. It runs in the family.'
2
Hanging Heroes
The back of Indy's gown was in shreds, and he held it together with one hand as they passed through the gate of the campus. But he didn't give a damn. He was just grateful to be free of cops and crooks and dogs. He was graduating and that was all that mattered.
He glanced up at a banner fluttering in the breeze.
CELEBRATE FOUNDING FATHERS DAY—M AY 23, it read. At the sight of it his stomach knotted, and his sense of relief vanished. With everything that had just happened, he'd almost forgotten about last night.
What had seemed like a notable way to end his college career no longer felt so wonderful.
As they reached the end of the lane leading to the mall, they stopped. A crowd of black-gowned students and their families were gathered on the sidewalk. Above them, bodies dangled from ropes high up on lampposts. From where they stood, the hanging mannequins looked like actual corpses dressed in American revolutionary garb complete with loose white shirts and vests, tight-fitting pants, and three-cornered hats.
'Well, look at that,' Shannon said with a mischievous grin. 'Georgie, the two Toms, and Benji.'
Indy stared glumly at the sight. The thrill had definitely
worn off. 'I don't know. It's sort of grotesque in the daylight. I guess I didn't really think they'd still be here.'
On a weekday the campus maintenance workers would probably have cut them down and carted away by now. But it was Saturday, midmorning, graduation day, and everyone was stopping and staring.
'Well, I think it's great.' Shannon grinned and slapped Indy on the back. 'We pulled it off.' There wasn't a trace of concern in his voice.
'Yeah. Swell.'
'Look. The press is even here. It's your chance to tell them all about it!'
That was his original intention, but now he wasn't so sure he wanted to take credit for the deed, much less boast about it. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to postpone it from the night before Founding Fathers Day to the eve of graduation. Maybe no one would understand.
Shannon punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'There're my folks. See you in a while.'
Indy watched him drift into the crowd, then walked over to where photographers were snapping pictures of 'Tom Jefferson.' Several people were talking at once, and the words struck him like blows to the gut.
'Who could have done it?' he heard someone ask.
'What was the point?'
'No point.'
'It's horrible.'
'Must have been a Bolshevik. I've heard they were on campus.'
'Maybe it was a Royalist. I'm sure they must hate
Franklin.'
'A mad Englishman.'
No one seemed to find it humorous or to grasp its meaning. Now he was barely able to contain himself.
He felt like shouting that it was just his Founding Fathers Day exhibit, and didn't they understand what these men stood for, anyway?
'It's a disgrace to the university,' an authoritative voice boomed from under the next lamppost. 'An outrage of the worst sort.'
Mallery Mulhouse, the university president, was sur rounded by reporters, students, and parents. His face was ruddier than usual, and his brow was covered in sweat.
Founding Fathers Day was Mulhouse's inspiration. It involved a day of speeches and patriotic ado, and although no one was forced to participate, it was considered a gaffe for undergraduates to ignore it.
During Indy's first two years, when he'd lived in a dormitory, the floor captains had been responsible for getting everyone involved in making floats for the parade or other related projects.
Last year, when he'd moved into an apartment off campus, he'd avoided Founding Fathers Day. But this year, Mulhouse had required everyone taking a history or an English course to write a paper on the Founding Fathers or fail the course. Indy had grudgingly abided, but in his own way.
'Anyone who would hang effigies of our nation's foun ders from the lampposts of an academy of higher learning is clearly a dangerous, unbalanced individual,' Mulhouse continued. 'I consider this an act of sedition, an affront to everything this nation is about.'
A frown furrowed Indy's brow as he worked his way closer to Mulhouse. He'd expected controversy; he'd wanted it. But he hadn't counted on Mulhouse considering it some sort of high crime against the nation.
'Don't you think it was just a college prank?' one of the reporters asked.
Indignation seized Mulhouse's face, reddening it even more. 'If it's a prank, it's in extremely poor taste.
Who ever was behind it will be found and proper punishment will be meted out.'
'Are you saying that hanging these dummies could be considered a criminal act?' another reporter called out.
'The university police have been notified, and our lawyers are looking into the legal aspects at this moment. Right now I'm not discounting anything.'
'Dr. Mulhouse, isn't what we see here simply an exam ple of freedom of speech as professed by our founding fathers?' asked a student Indy recognized as the universi ty newspaper's editor.
Mulhouse pointed to 'Georgie' behind him, who was now being cut down by one of his assistants.
'Young man, hanging an effigy of our country's first president on a lamppost of a university is not an example of freedom of speech. On the contrary, it's a threat to it.'
Damn. It wasn't going well at all. Indy looked down at the mortarboard in his hand, and wondered if they could still take away his diploma. Then what? He'd be out of luck, that's what. But he should have thought about that last night.
'What do you make of it, Jones?'
He turned to see Ted Conrad, his history professor. He was in his early thirties, wore an old-time handlebar mustache, and was Indy's favorite instructor.
Indy shrugged and gazed at the nearest dummy. 'Someone went to a lot of trouble.'
'Looks like a parting shot at Founding Fathers Day to me.'
A hint of a smile shadowed Indy's mouth. 'Could be, I suppose.'
He admired the professor for his forthright manner as well as for his compelling ideas. Conrad had repeatedly told the class to stand up for what they believed, to question authority. Freedom of speech, he'd said, meant expressing yourself any way you wanted as long as it did not harm anyone else. That was what democracy was about. Conrad had also poked gentle fun at the exalted stature of Founding Fathers Day, and when he'd assigned the required class paper, had prodded them, saying: 'Keep in mind when you write this paper that you are attending a university, not a church.'
Indy had done just that, and now Conrad suspected him; he was sure of it.
'What I see here, Jones,' he said, smiling as he motioned toward the hanging figures, 'looks a lot like what you were suggesting in your paper.'
Indy suddenly realized he was as transparent as water to Conrad. 'I didn't say they should've been hanged. My point was that if the British had won, our great Founding Fathers would have been branded traitors and probably
