39
The EZ File

‘Ma, I keep telling you, I don’t know what I’ll do back in Dublin. I’ll find something. You need to understand I’m finished over here. Yes . . . Yes, I hear what you say, and I agree with you . . . It’s a shame. The whole thing is a crying shame. But if I told you all the details, you’d have me on the next flight home. This place isn’t safe – it’s as simple as that.’

It was peculiar to be phoning home from the oak desk in the big office, with the modern art on the walls and the windows overlooking the campus. Cerberus was absent, but so was any feeling of pride or happiness I might have expected. I felt hollowed out and defeated.

I had my resignation letter all written and signed, and now I placed it by the telephone so he’d see it when he returned from North Carolina. That was when I noticed an envelope addressed to me from the man himself. I sliced it open with his silver letter knife and this is what I found:

Dear Jack,

Sorry I didn’t get to see you before I left, but I trust you had a good trip. Thanks for agreeing to sit in while I’m away. Go ahead and make yourself right at home – the girls will fill you in on the admin details, and if necessary I can be reached by telephone at any time.

Listen, Jack, I heard on the grapevine that you had some visitors while you were on vacation, and I’d like to make it very clear that I had no part in this tomfoolery. There will always be a few pranksters who enjoy that kind of horseplay, and you can be sure I will deal with it on my return. I guess it was a lighthearted way of making the point that you would do better to choose friends within your own community!

Hopefully there was no serious damage, and the fact that you are sitting in Mission Control and reading this suggests that you are warming to my invitation to join the Brotherhood! That’s great news, Jack, and it goes without saying that membership includes an insurance policy against any future high jinks! So go right ahead and digest the literature I’ve left for you. Hopefully you’ll realize that the Klan has a real ‘point’ (pun intended!).

When you are satisfied, kindly complete the attached form (black ink please).

Welcome aboard, buddy . . . or as we say in the Invisible Empire, KIGY (Klansman, I greet you)!

Walter

P.S. Be sure to find time to practice that golf!

It was clear that the professor and I were on a different page . . . a whole different library as a matter of fact. Attached with a paperclip to this appalling note was the following questionnaire, which I understood to be a KKK application form:

QUESTIONS FOR KLANDIDATES

The Kleagle presents the initiate with the following list of questions:

NB: the questions marked with stars are used to bar Jews, Catholics, Negroes and other aliens.

1] What is your age?

2] What is your occupation?

3] * Were your parents born in the United States of America?

4] * Are you a Gentile or Jew?

5] * Are you White or of a Colored Race?

6] What educational advantages have you?

7] Color of eyes? Hair? Height? Weight?

8] * Do you believe in the principles of Pure Americanism?

9] * Do you believe in White Supremacy?

10] What are your politics?

11] * What is your religious faith?

12] What secret fraternal orders are you a member of (if any)?

I most solemnly assert and affirm that each question above is truthfully answered by me and in my own handwriting and that below is my real signature.

Signed ...........................

NB: If the Klandidate answers the questions satisfactorily, he must pay his initiation fees, called ‘donation’, and provide money to pay for his mask, robe, etc. With his money affairs settled, he is ready for the initiation, together with whatever other Klandidates there are in the vicinity. The initiation services are held at midnight, with a flaming cross, an American flag, a sword or dagger, and a Bible as the chief outward signs of the order. There is also a bottle of water on the altar.

My overwhelming instinct was to tear the thing into tiny shreds, but then the phrase ‘know your enemy’ entered my mind. For better or worse, I found myself sitting in the professor’s well-appointed office, so why not take advantage of the situation?

I’m sorry if this sounds childish, but over the next couple of days I took a little revenge. For example, amongst his morning mail I found an official letter from the Department of Education about the possibility of desegregation in Southern schools and universities. It seemed that the March on Washington and the numerous civil rights protests had made a real difference to government thinking, and now the Kennedy administration was looking for ways to ease race relations. The letter talked about the idea of ‘colour-blind’ education across America. Of course, I wrote back immediately, expressing our university’s wholehearted support for an end to segregation. I enthused about our desire to open our doors to students of every creed and colour, based purely on their academic ability.

Cerberus had invited me to make use of his library, so I began reading everything I could find about the Klan. Every phrase and argument felt like digesting poison, but as it turned out, I learned a great deal more about the Brotherhood than the professor intended. It was clear that the Klan were deeply concerned about the rise of powerful Black leaders like Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, and they felt especially threatened by civil liberty rallies such as the March on Washington. With growing alarm I realized that the KKK were planning retaliation; some desperate terrorist plot was being hatched and it would be happening soon. The Ku Klux Klan was planning its revenge.

As I searched through the professor’s shelves for more clues, I stumbled upon a dark green file hidden beneath some history books on a bottom shelf. The file was marked with only two letters: EZ.

As soon as I opened the file, I realized what it was! Stapled to the inside cover was a black-and-white photograph of a young and confused-looking soldier being escorted into a court martial or tribunal by a pair of military policemen. The prisoner’s hands were cuffed together and raised to hide his face. What gave his identity away was that the burly policemen beside him looked like dwarfs – EZ was Private Erwin Zachery! This was something I had to read, so I slipped the file into my briefcase and carried it home.

I had fitted a new lock at the bungalow, and spent hours repairing the damage and putting the place back in order. I decided not to tell Pip and Hannah about the break-in – what good would it do? The sooner we all moved on from that terrible place, the better.

I gave notice to my landlord and booked a one-way flight to Dublin. I suppose I’m a sentimental old fool, but the hardest job of all was burying poor Finnegan in the wasteland behind the back yard. What harm had he done to anyone? Tomfoolery? Horseplay? High jinks? What those people had done was outright intimidation of which the Mafia would be proud. The fact that I was still alive was down to an accident of birth – the fair pigmentation of my skin.

To add to my troubles, the weather was unbearably close and I began to suffer from headaches and migraines behind my eyes which have been a symptom of my ocular condition throughout my life. As I mentioned, my poor old da had the same problem and it put an early end to his career.

Without even poor Finnegan to comfort me, I lay awake late into the night with the constant fear that those thugs might return to finish what they’d started. To distract myself I spread out the contents of the EZ file on my bed. Unless I was very much mistaken, this report on Erwin had been authorized by Walter Cerberus himself. Much of the material was marked as CLASSIFIED, so the professor must have had contacts and informers in senior positions in the military.

I was not able to copy the information, but I made some notes. The following is a summary of what I learned . . .