fall, rise again. He understood Lenin’s Who Whom. For Martin the twentieth century hit bottom the day the Hitler-Stalin Pact was announced because he knew it would happen.” Leona turned to Perry and Randall so as not to exclude them from her final words. “But it wasn’t the bottom. In the pit were Gulag and Auschwitz. Ned, everywhere Martin saw Christian cheeks like yours turning, finding hope somewhere. His books were written for you.”
Leona struggled to complete her thought. “Martin saw himself as a soldier who studied the shapes of the enemy the way air-raid wardens studied the outlines of planes.” She coughed into her good hand. “Please go on with your talk, gentlemen. I won’t interrupt again.”
Widmer felt the silence as pain.
It was Perry who broke it, offering, “We have to deal with the three people up there. And the police. And the press. Are you sure you want to hear any of this, Mrs. Fuller?”
She sighed. “I’m eavesdropping for Martin. I’ll be quite all right. You see, I don’t need revenge. I suppose to appease society you must do something about this crime, but I’d rather the energy was devoted to protecting the living.”
For a fleeting moment, Archibald Widmer wished that his Priscilla, thirty years younger than Leona Fuller, was more like that woman. Priscilla, alas, was like himself.
“Since I’m the declared innocent,” Widmer said, directing his comment to Perry, “may I ask what’s to keep any of the three up there from bolting?”
“Their knowledge that if they do they’ll be communicating something they may not want to. Ned, Mrs. Fuller,” Perry said, “I won’t be able to talk as freely once the police are here. We’re hoping that the whole thing goes down as an accident.”
“I understand,” Leona Fuller said.
“I don’t,” Widmer said.
“If it looks like Professor Fuller was killed,” Perry said, “there’ll be hell to pay. Our territory will be compromised. Everybody knows Irish terrorists operate with impunity in Britain. Arabs and Armenians and Turks work Paris all the time. In Italy they kill statesmen as easily as policemen. In Germany, there isn’t a high-level businessman who isn’t afraid. If you’ve read Claire Sterling’s book…”
“I haven’t,” Widmer said.
“It shows how all the strings ultimately run to Moscow. Right now our turf seems safe. The FALN lets a bomb go once in a while. Quaddafi’s had a hit or two here, but it quickly passes from memory. If Fuller’s death is seen as an assassination—particularly if it’s by an American and pulled off here—it’ll make us look helpless to the rest of the world.”
“I’m interrupting again,” Leona Fuller said. “Mr. Perry, don’t you think Americans are sick of cover-ups, which never work anyway?”
“Someone must be punished,” said Widmer.
“Oh Ned,” Leona Fuller said, “I’m glad you’re not a Muslim.”
Perry sighed. “I didn’t say whoever did it would escape punishment. We don’t want to see a public trial. If there has to be one—the police are going to be all over the place soon, and all they want are arrests and convictions—that’s where you come in, Ned. We’ll need your help in finding a local litigator who’s clever enough to get the case thrown out, or if it’s tried, to be sure there’s no conviction. We want to avoid appeals and all the attendant publicity. We want this buried.” He turned to Mrs. Fuller. “I’m sorry.”
Widmer was silent for a moment. Then he said, “What ever happened to our sense of law?”
“Nothing,” Perry said. “It’s always been an adversary system—them and us.”
“I suppose you don’t see this as cynical.”
“I see this as practical.”
“Who knows about these decisions? Is it at cabinet level?”
“I assure you we’re not free-lancing.”
“If I’m to have any further involvement, I insist you tell me who knows about this.”
“The President.”
In the stillness,
Leona struggled to complete her thought. “Martin saw himself as a soldier who studied the shapes of the enemy the way air-raid wardens studied the outlines of planes.” She coughed into her good hand. “Please go on with your talk, gentlemen. I won’t interrupt again.”
Widmer felt the silence as pain.
It was Perry who broke it, offering, “We have to deal with the three people up there. And the police. And the press. Are you sure you want to hear any of this, Mrs. Fuller?”
She sighed. “I’m eavesdropping for Martin. I’ll be quite all right. You see, I don’t need revenge. I suppose to appease society you must do something about this crime, but I’d rather the energy was devoted to protecting the living.”
For a fleeting moment, Archibald Widmer wished that his Priscilla, thirty years younger than Leona Fuller, was more like that woman. Priscilla, alas, was like himself.
“Since I’m the declared innocent,” Widmer said, directing his comment to Perry, “may I ask what’s to keep any of the three up there from bolting?”
“Their knowledge that if they do they’ll be communicating something they may not want to. Ned, Mrs. Fuller,” Perry said, “I won’t be able to talk as freely once the police are here. We’re hoping that the whole thing goes down as an accident.”
“I understand,” Leona Fuller said.
“I don’t,” Widmer said.
“If it looks like Professor Fuller was killed,” Perry said, “there’ll be hell to pay. Our territory will be compromised. Everybody knows Irish terrorists operate with impunity in Britain. Arabs and Armenians and Turks work Paris all the time. In Italy they kill statesmen as easily as policemen. In Germany, there isn’t a high-level businessman who isn’t afraid. If you’ve read Claire Sterling’s book…”
“I haven’t,” Widmer said.
“It shows how all the strings ultimately run to Moscow. Right now our turf seems safe. The FALN lets a bomb go once in a while. Quaddafi’s had a hit or two here, but it quickly passes from memory. If Fuller’s death is seen as an assassination—particularly if it’s by an American and pulled off here—it’ll make us look helpless to the rest of the world.”
“I’m interrupting again,” Leona Fuller said. “Mr. Perry, don’t you think Americans are sick of cover-ups, which never work anyway?”
“Someone must be punished,” said Widmer.
“Oh Ned,” Leona Fuller said, “I’m glad you’re not a Muslim.”
Perry sighed. “I didn’t say whoever did it would escape punishment. We don’t want to see a public trial. If there has to be one—the police are going to be all over the place soon, and all they want are arrests and convictions—that’s where you come in, Ned. We’ll need your help in finding a local litigator who’s clever enough to get the case thrown out, or if it’s tried, to be sure there’s no conviction. We want to avoid appeals and all the attendant publicity. We want this buried.” He turned to Mrs. Fuller. “I’m sorry.”
Widmer was silent for a moment. Then he said, “What ever happened to our sense of law?”
“Nothing,” Perry said. “It’s always been an adversary system—them and us.”
“I suppose you don’t see this as cynical.”
“I see this as practical.”
“Who knows about these decisions? Is it at cabinet level?”
“I assure you we’re not free-lancing.”
“If I’m to have any further involvement, I insist you tell me who knows about this.”
“The President.”
In the stillness,
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