Meadow. He stood there, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, obviously amused by the proceedings.
‘Is this for real, Professor? I mean, you wouldn't kid a guy,’ he asked as they waited.
‘No, Mr Luciano,’ Carter told him. ‘It's real enough.’
An aide appeared, a young Marine lieutenant in razorsharp uniform. ‘Colonel Carter? If you'd come this way the President will see you now.’
When they entered the Oval Office, the room was in half-darkness, the only light the table lamp on the massive desk, an array of service flags behind it. President Roosevelt was seated in his wheelchair at the desk working on some papers, the inevitable long cigaretteholder jutting from his mouth.
He looked up at Carter and smiled. ‘Colonel Carter, how are you?’
‘Fine, Mr President.’
The President nodded to the young Marine. ‘If I need you, I'll call.’
The door closed quietly. There was silence for a moment while the President fitted a fresh cigarette into the holder. He lit it carefully, then finally acknowledged Luciano's existence.
‘So you're Luciano?’
‘That's what they tell me.’
‘I hear from Colonel Carter you've been giving him trouble.’
‘Now that, Mr President, depends entirely on your point of view,’ Luciano said. ‘I'm sitting in my cell last year when your people come and ask to see me about doing something about Nazi saboteurs on the docks after they burned the Normandie, so I arrange things with the unions. Then they come again the other month asking for help in Sicily. Again, I do what I can. And for what? I mean, what in the hell is there in it for me except another thirty years in the Pen? And then this guy turns up with some crazy idea I'm going to Sicily with him and put my head on the block, and you think I'm giving him trouble?’
The President leaned back and said softly, ‘I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Luciano. I'm going to give you a chance to be an American again.’
‘By going to Sicily with the Professor here?’ Luciano said. ‘Why should I? What's in it for me?’
The President said, ‘A bullet in the head if the Nazis catch you.’
‘And if they don't? I mean, if his whole crazy idea works, what happens then?’
‘Oh, I suppose you could take to those Sicilian mountains and be a fugitive for the rest of your life. On the other hand, you could go back to that cell of yours and take your chances. I'm sure the parole board would be suitably impressed.’
‘You wouldn't care to guarantee that?’
Roosevelt said, ‘You can go now, I've got work to do.’
Luciano stood there, staring at him, glanced at Carter, then spread his hands wide in a very Italian gesture, turned and walked out.
The President said, ‘Anything more I can do, Colonel?’
Carter took a folded piece of paper from his wallet and passed it across. ‘If you could ask Intelligence to trace that person for me, Mr President, preferably before I leave, it would be helpful.’
‘I'll see to it,’ the President said.
‘Mr President.’
Carter turned and followed Luciano, who was already on his way out. The Marine lieutenant said, ‘I'll only be a moment, Colonel,’ and went into the Oval Office.
Luciano was smiling again. Carter said, ‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’ Luciano said. ‘He didn't exactly leave me any choice, did he?’ He grinned. ‘I'll say one thing for that old man. He's got balls.’
‘It's been said before.’
‘But he didn't promise me a thing.’
‘Not on paper. On the other hand, if you can't trust Franklyn Delano Roosevelt, who can you trust?’
‘All right. You've made your point. So what happens now?’
‘We're flying out just after midnight. Scotland first stop. A place called Prestwick. Direct flight to Algeria from there.’
‘That gives us five hours to kill.’
‘No problem,’ Carter said. ‘I've booked a hotel room.’
The Marine lieutenant returned and led the way back along the corridor to the West Basement
‘Is this for real, Professor? I mean, you wouldn't kid a guy,’ he asked as they waited.
‘No, Mr Luciano,’ Carter told him. ‘It's real enough.’
An aide appeared, a young Marine lieutenant in razorsharp uniform. ‘Colonel Carter? If you'd come this way the President will see you now.’
When they entered the Oval Office, the room was in half-darkness, the only light the table lamp on the massive desk, an array of service flags behind it. President Roosevelt was seated in his wheelchair at the desk working on some papers, the inevitable long cigaretteholder jutting from his mouth.
He looked up at Carter and smiled. ‘Colonel Carter, how are you?’
‘Fine, Mr President.’
The President nodded to the young Marine. ‘If I need you, I'll call.’
The door closed quietly. There was silence for a moment while the President fitted a fresh cigarette into the holder. He lit it carefully, then finally acknowledged Luciano's existence.
‘So you're Luciano?’
‘That's what they tell me.’
‘I hear from Colonel Carter you've been giving him trouble.’
‘Now that, Mr President, depends entirely on your point of view,’ Luciano said. ‘I'm sitting in my cell last year when your people come and ask to see me about doing something about Nazi saboteurs on the docks after they burned the Normandie, so I arrange things with the unions. Then they come again the other month asking for help in Sicily. Again, I do what I can. And for what? I mean, what in the hell is there in it for me except another thirty years in the Pen? And then this guy turns up with some crazy idea I'm going to Sicily with him and put my head on the block, and you think I'm giving him trouble?’
The President leaned back and said softly, ‘I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Luciano. I'm going to give you a chance to be an American again.’
‘By going to Sicily with the Professor here?’ Luciano said. ‘Why should I? What's in it for me?’
The President said, ‘A bullet in the head if the Nazis catch you.’
‘And if they don't? I mean, if his whole crazy idea works, what happens then?’
‘Oh, I suppose you could take to those Sicilian mountains and be a fugitive for the rest of your life. On the other hand, you could go back to that cell of yours and take your chances. I'm sure the parole board would be suitably impressed.’
‘You wouldn't care to guarantee that?’
Roosevelt said, ‘You can go now, I've got work to do.’
Luciano stood there, staring at him, glanced at Carter, then spread his hands wide in a very Italian gesture, turned and walked out.
The President said, ‘Anything more I can do, Colonel?’
Carter took a folded piece of paper from his wallet and passed it across. ‘If you could ask Intelligence to trace that person for me, Mr President, preferably before I leave, it would be helpful.’
‘I'll see to it,’ the President said.
‘Mr President.’
Carter turned and followed Luciano, who was already on his way out. The Marine lieutenant said, ‘I'll only be a moment, Colonel,’ and went into the Oval Office.
Luciano was smiling again. Carter said, ‘Well?’
‘Well, what?’ Luciano said. ‘He didn't exactly leave me any choice, did he?’ He grinned. ‘I'll say one thing for that old man. He's got balls.’
‘It's been said before.’
‘But he didn't promise me a thing.’
‘Not on paper. On the other hand, if you can't trust Franklyn Delano Roosevelt, who can you trust?’
‘All right. You've made your point. So what happens now?’
‘We're flying out just after midnight. Scotland first stop. A place called Prestwick. Direct flight to Algeria from there.’
‘That gives us five hours to kill.’
‘No problem,’ Carter said. ‘I've booked a hotel room.’
The Marine lieutenant returned and led the way back along the corridor to the West Basement
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