THE POLICE HAD taken their statements, the two dead Russians had been removed on gurneys, and the fingerprint men wanted them out of the way. ‘I could use some air,’ said Guttman, and Nessheim nodded. They went out the front entrance, since the back alleyway was still filled with squad cars and policemen, stunned by the murder of their colleague whom Nessheim had found under the back stairs.
The sky was crystal clear, and you could see the stars and a crescent moon. As they moved along 56th Street Nessheim said, ‘What happened at the Met Lab?’
‘It worked, just as Fermi said it would. I got there a few minutes late, but you were right – Anderson told me nothing obvious occurred, just a lot of click click clicks. At first I thought the experiment must have failed – everybody seemed so subdued.’
‘They must be exhausted. They’ve been working round the clock.’
‘Sure, but it was more than that. I got the feeling they suddenly realised what they’ve done. They’re scared, I think, and worried.’
‘I thought the whole point was that if they didn’t do it the Germans would get there first.’
‘Sure, but that doesn’t make the enterprise any more attractive. Funny, they brought out a bottle of wine to celebrate, and everybody signed the bottle. But there weren’t any toasts, and they drank in silence. It was kind of creepy, to tell you the truth. Anyway, how about you – are the funeral arrangements all set?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t go to the North Side.’
Guttman stopped walking. ‘How come? Did you think it would be too much for you?’ He sounded sympathetic.
‘No, it wasn’t that. I had something I needed to follow up.’ He could see that this worried Guttman. ‘I found out who was running Kalvin here.’
‘You did? Who?’
‘A law student named Winograd. He tried to befriend me – and Stacey – and he liked to pretend he wasn’t interested in politics. But he’s a hundred per cent Comintern man.’
‘How did you figure this out?’
‘There was an entry in Kalvin’s diary that he’d crossed out. For a meeting on an island over in Jackson Park. I think they used to meet in the Whispering Gallery at the museum next door, but the exhibit’s closed. I put two and two together, and for a change the answer wasn’t five.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this last night?’ Guttman sounded aggrieved.
‘You had Stagg Field to worry about – you said yourself it took priority.’ It sounded good, but was not the true reason. Nessheim decided to come clean: ‘Plus, I didn’t want you to try and stop me.’
Guttman shook his head. ‘You drive me nuts sometimes, Nessheim.’
‘I bet Tolson says the same about you.’
Guttman looked at him sourly. ‘Have we got anything we can stick on this Winograd fellow?’
‘Not really. It’s pretty depressing, Harry – it turns out we got just about everything wrong. Kalvin wasn’t sent to sabotage the experiment – the Russians want us to build this super-weapon. They just want to know how to build one too.’
‘Kalvin’s not going to be able to help them with that now, is he? We found him.’
‘Yes, we did. But he’s just the tip of the iceberg. I bet there are going to be a lot of Kalvins on this project.’
Guttman scratched his head. ‘Well, I hope you’re wrong. If you’re right we’ll just have to do the best we can to find the rest of them. I don’t see an alternative, do you?’ When Nessheim didn’t reply, Guttman asked, ‘Where is Winograd now?’
‘I would think Billings Hospital.’ He paused for a second. ‘I’d better level with you, Harry. There may be repercussions.’ He explained what had happened on the Wooded Island, recounting the conversation there, and ending with the fact that he had shot Winograd in the foot. Guttman seemed astonished, then asked why he had done it. Nessheim told the truth about that as well, explaining that he had lost all self-control when Winograd baited him about Stacey. He added, ‘I had a personal agenda. He told me he was directing the two Russians we just killed. Winograd was with them in Stacey’s apartment when –’ He stopped, then made himself continue. ‘When she died.’
Guttman sighed. ‘To be honest, if I’d been in your shoes I would have shot him too – only I’d have killed him.’
He started walking again and Nessheim went with him. Guttman said, ‘I doubt there will be any comeback from Winograd. How’s he going to explain himself if he tries to press charges? Kalvin may not crack, but we could throw enough mud in Winograd’s direction to make it widely known he worked for the Soviets. He wouldn’t want that.’
‘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.’