Roger Kendall would not be joining those who came to
torment him in his nightly dreams. And perhaps, one day he and
Patricia… But that was a thought for another time.
“With all due
respect, Mr. Eaton,” Linder resumed after a long pause, “most of
our Movement’s activities are in the humanitarian area. Perhaps if
we earmarked your contributions for relief work and refugee
resettlement?”
Eaton smiled
sympathetically but shook his head.
“In practice, all
funding is fungible. Whatever we gave you for resettlement would free
up funds for military or political action. Please excuse me for
saying no.”
“All the same, sir,
our backers in Europe have a great deal of respect for you,” Linder
persevered. “Even a very small contribution from you would help us
raise money elsewhere. Would you consider a token contribution,
earmarked for relief work…?”
Eaton rose slowly with
an amiable laugh.
“Mr. Tanner, the
issue is closed. But please come with me out onto the balcony for a
moment. There’s something I’d like to share with you.”
He gestured for Roger
Kendall to stay seated. Patricia moved out from behind the couch and
sat by her husband’s side, staring off into empty space. Linder
held the image of her in his mind, knowing that he would not likely
see her again.
Eaton took Linder by
the arm and led him to the edge of the balcony. Though it seemed odd,
Linder felt a thrill at having won a small degree of Eaton's
confidence. Perhaps he could find a graceful way out of this mess now
that he had more time to think and could speak privately.
“Can you smell the
fragrance?” the old man asked, taking a frangipani blossom between
his fingers and inhaling deeply. “Gardening was my late wife’s
hobby. When she died, I made it mine. This spring I’ve begun to
teach what little I know to Patricia and Caroline.”
“A good way for them
to remember you,” Linder noted.
“You have an unusual
accent, Mr. Tanner,” Eaton continued. “Have you ever lived in the
Midwest?”
“Briefly, when I was
a child,” Linder answered, aware that traces of Cleveland remained
detectable in his speech to someone from the area.
“More than briefly, I
think,” Eaton replied. “I suspect you have far more of Ohio in
you than of Utah. And a Latter-day Saint would never smell of
alcohol. And as for Porter Rockwell, I expected someone in your
position would have a bit more to say about the greatest Mormon
guerrilla fighter who ever lived.”
Linder bit his lip and
looked out over the Mediterranean. “Why didn’t you say any of
that indoors?”
“Because I wanted to
make you a counteroffer away from anyone else’s ears. Now, I assume
that you are either an officer of State Security or an agent of
theirs who can pass my offer forward through the proper channels.
Knowing that State Security would like nothing better than to get
their hands on me and end my support for the insurgency, I would be
prepared to surrender myself to your government on one condition:
that they leave Patricia, Caroline, and Roger alone, forever."
Eaton paused and
watched for Linder's reaction. In that moment, Linder felt the blood
drain from his face and saw that Eaton noticed it, too. His dilemma
was that, while Eaton’s offer might be a reasonable one,
Headquarters would never accept preconditions from a rebel. Even if
they accepted Eaton’s surrender, they would still go after Kendall
and Patricia and young Caroline. Yet, Eaton had made the proposal
only because Mormon Joe Tanner’s cover had been blown sky high. To
reject Eaton’s offer in a vain effort to salvage that cover would
merely compound the error and bring the entire blame for the
operation’s collapse onto his own head. What he needed was a
different solution that would save not only his own skin but also
Patricia and Caroline’s. He opened his mouth to speak but noticed
that Eaton had more to say.
“Now, as for my
finances," Eaton went on with emphasis, "I expect
torment him in his nightly dreams. And perhaps, one day he and
Patricia… But that was a thought for another time.
“With all due
respect, Mr. Eaton,” Linder resumed after a long pause, “most of
our Movement’s activities are in the humanitarian area. Perhaps if
we earmarked your contributions for relief work and refugee
resettlement?”
Eaton smiled
sympathetically but shook his head.
“In practice, all
funding is fungible. Whatever we gave you for resettlement would free
up funds for military or political action. Please excuse me for
saying no.”
“All the same, sir,
our backers in Europe have a great deal of respect for you,” Linder
persevered. “Even a very small contribution from you would help us
raise money elsewhere. Would you consider a token contribution,
earmarked for relief work…?”
Eaton rose slowly with
an amiable laugh.
“Mr. Tanner, the
issue is closed. But please come with me out onto the balcony for a
moment. There’s something I’d like to share with you.”
He gestured for Roger
Kendall to stay seated. Patricia moved out from behind the couch and
sat by her husband’s side, staring off into empty space. Linder
held the image of her in his mind, knowing that he would not likely
see her again.
Eaton took Linder by
the arm and led him to the edge of the balcony. Though it seemed odd,
Linder felt a thrill at having won a small degree of Eaton's
confidence. Perhaps he could find a graceful way out of this mess now
that he had more time to think and could speak privately.
“Can you smell the
fragrance?” the old man asked, taking a frangipani blossom between
his fingers and inhaling deeply. “Gardening was my late wife’s
hobby. When she died, I made it mine. This spring I’ve begun to
teach what little I know to Patricia and Caroline.”
“A good way for them
to remember you,” Linder noted.
“You have an unusual
accent, Mr. Tanner,” Eaton continued. “Have you ever lived in the
Midwest?”
“Briefly, when I was
a child,” Linder answered, aware that traces of Cleveland remained
detectable in his speech to someone from the area.
“More than briefly, I
think,” Eaton replied. “I suspect you have far more of Ohio in
you than of Utah. And a Latter-day Saint would never smell of
alcohol. And as for Porter Rockwell, I expected someone in your
position would have a bit more to say about the greatest Mormon
guerrilla fighter who ever lived.”
Linder bit his lip and
looked out over the Mediterranean. “Why didn’t you say any of
that indoors?”
“Because I wanted to
make you a counteroffer away from anyone else’s ears. Now, I assume
that you are either an officer of State Security or an agent of
theirs who can pass my offer forward through the proper channels.
Knowing that State Security would like nothing better than to get
their hands on me and end my support for the insurgency, I would be
prepared to surrender myself to your government on one condition:
that they leave Patricia, Caroline, and Roger alone, forever."
Eaton paused and
watched for Linder's reaction. In that moment, Linder felt the blood
drain from his face and saw that Eaton noticed it, too. His dilemma
was that, while Eaton’s offer might be a reasonable one,
Headquarters would never accept preconditions from a rebel. Even if
they accepted Eaton’s surrender, they would still go after Kendall
and Patricia and young Caroline. Yet, Eaton had made the proposal
only because Mormon Joe Tanner’s cover had been blown sky high. To
reject Eaton’s offer in a vain effort to salvage that cover would
merely compound the error and bring the entire blame for the
operation’s collapse onto his own head. What he needed was a
different solution that would save not only his own skin but also
Patricia and Caroline’s. He opened his mouth to speak but noticed
that Eaton had more to say.
“Now, as for my
finances," Eaton went on with emphasis, "I expect
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