eager as he was to maintain the discretion. He was a tough negotiator in business, always using the tools of advantage by researching, even creating what his adversaries wanted, but his integrity had never been doubted.. .. What in hell was the Bureau doing?
It had begun only minutes ago when his secretary buzzed him.
"Yes?"
"A Mr. Roger Brooks from Telluride, Colorado, on the line, sir," said his secretary.
-Who?"
"A Mr. Brooks. He said he went to high school with you in Cedaredge."
"My God, Brooksie! I haven't thought of him in years. I heard he owns a ski resort somewhere."
"They ski in Telluride" Senator."
"That was it. Thank you, all-knowing one."
"Shall I put him through?"
"Sure.. .. Hello, Roger, how are you?"
"Fine, Larry, it's been a long time."
"At least thirty years-"
"Well, not quite," Brooks contradicted gently.
"I headed up your campaign here eight years ago. The last election-you didn't really need one."
"Christ, I'm sorry! Of course, I remember now. Forgive me."
"No forgiveness required, Larry, you're a busy guy."
"How about you?"
"Built four additional runs since then, so you could say I'm surviving pretty well. And the summer backpackers are growing faster than we can cut new trails.
"Course the ones from the East want to know why we don't have room service in the woods."
"That's good, Rog! I'll use it the next time I'm debating one of my distinguished colleagues from New York. They want room service for everyone on welfare."
"Larry," said Roger Brooks, his tone of voice altered, serious.
"The reason I'm calling is probably because we went to school together and I ran that campaign down here."
"I don't understand."
"I don't either, but I knew I had to call you in spite of the fact that I swore I wouldn't. Frankly, I didn't like the son of a bitch; he talked quietly, like he was my best friend and was telling me the secrets of King Tut's tomb, all the while saying it was for your own good."
"Who?"
"Some guy from the FBI. I made him show me his ID and it was for real. I came damn near throwing him the hell out of here, then I figured I'd better learn what his grief was, if only to let you know."
"What was it, Roger?"
"Nuts, that's what it was. You know how some of the press paiin you, like they did old Barry G. in Arizona? The nuclear freak who'd blow us to hell, the downtrodder of the downtrodden, all that crazy stuff?"
"Yes, I do. He survived it with honor and so will I. What did the Bureau man want?"
"He wanted to know if I'd ever heard you express sympathy forget this-"Fascist causes." If maybe at one time or another you might have indicated that you thought Nazi Germany had certain justifications for what they did that led to the war.. .." I tell you, Larry, by then my blood was boiling hot, but I kept cool and just told him that he was way off base. I brought up the fact that you were decorated in Korea, and you know what the bastard said?"
"No, I don't, Roger. What did he say?"
"He said, and he said it with kind of a smirk: "But that was against the Communists, wasn't it?" Shit, Larry, he was trying to build a case without a case!"
"The Communists being an anathema to Nazi Germany, is that what you gathered?"
"Hell, yes. And that kid wasn't aid enough to know where Korea is, but he was smooth-Jesus, was he wrapped tight, and spoke like a benevolent angel. All innocence and sww talk."
"They're using their best men," said Roote softly, staring down at his desk.
"How did the conversation end?"
"Oh, upbeat, let me tell you. He made it clear that his confidential information was obviously wrong, very wrong, and the investigation would stop then and there."
"Which means it's just begun." Lawrence Roote picked up a pencil and cracked it with his left hand.
"Thanks, Brooksie, thank you more than I can say."
"What's going on, Larry?"
"I don't know, I really don't know. When I find out, I'll call you."
Franklyn Wagner, anchorman for MBC News, the most watched evening news program in the country, sat in his dressing room rewriting much of the copy he would recite in front of the cameras in forty-five minutes. There was a knock on his door and he casually called out, "Come in."
"Hi there, Mr. Sincere," said Emmanuel Chernov, chief producer of network news, walking inside and shutting the door; he crossed to a chair and sat down.
"You got problems with the words again?
I hate