That's clearly spelled out in the forty seven charter,"
"To hell with the charter. If there are Nazis roaming the corridors of government, industry, and the so-called arts, we have to find them, expose them!"
"With what authority?" asked Sorenson, studying the face of the Secretary of State.
"With my authority, if you like. I'll be responsible."
"Congress might object," pressed the director of Con sOp
"Screw the Congress, just keep it quiet. Good God, you can at least do that, can't you? You're both part of the administration, aren't you? It's called the Executive Branch, gentlemen, and if the Executive, the presidency itself, can root out the Nazi influence in this country, the nation will forever be thankful. Now, go to work, coordinate, and bring me results. Our conference is over. I have an appointment with one of those Sunday morning talk show producers. I'm going to announce the President's new policy on the Caribbean."
Outside in the State Department corridor, Knox Talbot turned to Wesley Sorenson.
"Beyond finding out who's compromising our AA-Zero computers, I have no stomach for any of this."
"I'll resign first," said the Cons-Op head.
"That's not the way, Wcs," countered the DCL "If you go and I go, he'll find a couple of others he can really control. I say we both stay and 'coordinate' quietly with the Bureau."
"Bollinger ruled that out."
"No, he specifically objected to and overrode the charter of 'forty-seven that prohibits you and me from operating domestically.
We filtered his words and came to the conclusion that he didn't actually want us to act unconstitutionally. He'll probably thank us later. Hell, the acolytes around Reagan did this all the time."
"Is Bollinger worth it, Knox?"
"No, he's not, but our organizations are. I've worked with the Bureau's chief. He's not obsessed with his turf he no Hoover.
He's a decent guy, a former judge who was considered fair, and he has plenty of street smarts. I'll convince him it's all got to be silent and deep but conclusive. And, let's face it, Harry Latham can't be ignored."
"I still think Moreau's a mistake, a terrible error."
"There may be others too, but there could also be other others who aren't. I hate to say it, but Bollinger's right about that. I'll make contact with the Bureau, you keep Harry Latham alive."
"I see another problem, Knox," said Sorenson, frowning.
"Remember the garbage of the fifties, the McCarthy bullshit?"
"Please," answered the black DCL "I was a freshman in college and my father was a civil rights lawyer. They called him a Communist, and we had to move from Wilmington, to Chicago so my two sisters and I could walk to school. Hell, yes, I remember."
"Make sure the FBI understands the conceivable similarity. We don't want reputations, even careers, ruined by irre=ible charges-or worse, rumors that won't die. We want federal gunslingers; we have to have discreet professionals."
"I lived through the gunslingers, Wcs. It's a priority that they be cut off at the pass. Strictly professional, strictly quiet, that's the mantra."
"I wish us all good luck," said the director of Consular Operations, "but half of my brain, if I have one, tells me we're in dangerous waters."
The Antinayous' sterile house in Paris's Marais district was staffed by two women and a man ensconced in a comfortable flat above a fashionable dress shop on the rue Delacort. The introductions were quick, Karin de Vries doing most of the talking, making the case for Drew Latham not only immediate but emphatic. The grayhaired woman in charge conferred briefly with her colleagues.
"We'll send him to the Maison Rouge in Carrefour.
You'll have everything you need, monsieur. Karin and her departed husband were always with us. Godspeed, Mr. Latham. The Briiderschaft must be destroyed."
The old stone edifice referred to as the Maison Rouge was initially a small economy-class hotel converted into a small economy-class office building. According to the shabby tenant directory, it housed such businesses as an employment agency for manual labor, a plumbing firm, a printer, a private detective agency specializing in "divorce procedures," as well as a smattering of bookkeepers, typists, janitorial services, and offices for rent, of which there were none. In reality, only the employment agency and the printer were legitimate; the rest were not in the Paris telephone book, ostensibly either out of business or closed for specific dates (altered successively on door signs). In their places were single and double rooms and a number of mini-suites, all complete with unlisted telephones, fax machines, typewriters, television sets, and desktop computers. The building was unattached, and two narrow alleyways