‘I didn’t plan to shoot him, Harry. I didn’t know it was going to be him. We were both equally surprised to find each other there on the island.’
Guttman said, ‘I’m leaving tomorrow first thing. I want to get back and see what I can do about this T.A. fellow. I have a feeling he may be away, and won’t be coming back.’
‘Why?
‘Kalvin may have got word to him that he’s been pinched. That would scare T.A. off. He’ll be on the sidelines somewhere, waiting to see how the land lies. If he thinks it’s safe he’ll return to the Bureau and then I’ll grab the bastard. If he doesn’t, we’ll never see him again.’
‘Wouldn’t Tolson protect him?’
‘Never. Oh, he’ll huff and puff at first and say I’ve misread the whole thing. But the evidence I have is hard to dispute, and it’s enough to excuse my diversions from established procedure. I don’t know what will scare Tolson the most – the suggestion that he protected T.A. because he was his nancy boy, or that he unwittingly let a Soviet agent have access to the confidential files of the Bureau.’
They crossed Woodlawn and kept walking. Nessheim couldn’t see anyone ahead or, glancing back, behind; then he realised no one would be following him tonight.
Guttman said, ‘What about you? You got any plans?’
‘I want to finish the academic quarter, Harry. That way, if I leave I have the right to come back. It’s meant for people getting drafted or signing up, but I sneak in under that provision.’
‘ “Sneak” is not the right word. You’re doing your bit and then some. Your war’s been going on for a while.’
‘I thought it was all over when I went to law school.’
Guttman shook his head. ‘When did we first meet?’
‘I think it was ’37.’
‘Golly, it’s been a while then.’
They had reached University Avenue by now, and as if by mutual agreement turned south, so as not to proceed another block to Stagg Field. There were few street lights here, and only half of the sidewalk had been cleared entirely of snow. A man was coming towards them, walking slowly as though deep in thought, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat. They waited on the edge of a driveway to let him pass.
It was Fermi, and he stopped when he saw them both. He looked tired.
‘Congratulations, Professor,’ Nessheim said.
Fermi nodded absent-mindedly. ‘I guess so,’ he said.
‘I understand the experiment went like a dream. You must be very pleased.’
‘Pleased? I don’t know about that. We have all worked so hard that we almost forgot what we were working to do. The result happens, and now we are made to think. I have to say, I don’t like some of these thoughts.’
‘It was necessary, Professor,’ Guttman said.
‘Necessary – like a necessary evil?’ Fermi shook his head. ‘I am not so sure of that. I hope it will win the war, if nothing else can. But my fear is that after that it will only cause new wars. Szilard says he is not surprised I feel this way – he has felt like that for a long time.’ Fermi looked at Guttman; he seemed slightly bewildered. ‘He said I have been an innocent for too long.’
Nessheim didn’t hesitate. ‘Nobody’s innocent after today.’
They said goodnight to Fermi and continued towards the Quadrangle Club. A jazzy convertible drove past, red like Stacey’s, which gave Nessheim a jolt. Eventually he said, ‘Harry, can I ask you something?’
His tone made Guttman look at Nessheim, then look away. ‘Sure, Jim.’
‘Does it ever get better?’
Guttman sighed, thinking about this. ‘Hard to say. I don’t want to die any more, if that’s “better”. Other than that, I take it one day at a time.’
They had reached the club, and Guttman stopped in front of the awning over its front walkway. ‘You said a minute ago “if I leave”. What would you do if you did?’
Nessheim tried to gather his thoughts. He been wrong to think his war was over, whatever the army doctors said. He might not get the chance to fight in the Pacific or North Africa or one day in Europe, but he would still have battles to fight, even if they took place here at home. If not all the enemies of America were in plain view, they were out there just the same. There was no getting around this any more, no hopes for a peaceful life while the world was at war. In this, as in so many things about him, Stacey had been unerring – most of all, in her insistence that this was no time for ‘rathers’.
He said to Guttman, ‘I’d like to stay with the Bureau. If you can use my services.’
Guttman was silent for a moment. He extended his hand and the two men shook. He said, ‘Let me give it some thought. Something will come up. It always has before.’
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Joanna Taylor, Susan Sandon, Jocasta Hamilton and Selina Walker at Random House UK for their encouragement and advice as I wrote this book; my agents Clare Alexander and Gillon Aitken were also supportive – as always. Mary Chamberlain once again proved an invaluable copy-editor, and I am grateful as well to Dan Crissman, Tracy Carns and Peter Mayer at The Overlook Press.
The Hyde Park Historical Society in Chicago is a remarkable organisation and an excellent source of information about that neighbourhood’s past. My thanks go also to Pranav Jain at the University of Chicago. Sam Radin was encouraging throughout.
Willard Keeney, my uncle, helped with details of transportation from an earlier era, and made many wider and useful editorial suggestions – as did my brothers, Dan and James Rosenheim. I’d also like to thank Laura and Sabrina Rosenheim for their patience. Finally, Clare Howell kept me at it, and helped in so many respects, which the dedication of this book can only begin to convey.
ANDREW ROSENHEIM was born in Chicago and grew up there and in Michigan. He went to Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar in 1977, and has lived in England ever since. He is the author of nine novels, including Fear Itself and The Little Tokyo Informant, as well as a memoir, The Secrets of Carriage H.
Fear Itself
978-1-4683-0703-0
$15.95
The Little Tokyo Informant
978-1-4683-0942-3
$16.95
Jacket photograph © Underwood & Underwood / Library of Congress Jacket design by Greg Heinimann
Printed in the United States Copyright © 2016 The Overlook Press
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The Accidental Agent Page 33