The Other Teddy Roosevelts
you wished to meet with me. What other reason could you possibly have for this extravagant charade?”
    “All right,” said Roosevelt. “At present three men control seventy percent of the crime in Manhattan: William O’Brien, Antonio Pascale, and Israel Zuckerman. Thus far my men have been unable to ferret them out. I have been told that you have access to them and the ability to adapt to dangerous situations. The City of New York will pay you a one thousand dollar bounty for each one you deliver tomy office.”
    “And you think this will end crime in Manhattan?” asked Demosthenes, amused.
    “No, but we have to start somewhere, and I prefer starting at the top. Each of them will implicate dozens of others if it will get them lighter sentences.” Roosevelt paused and stared at the tall man. “Can you do it?”
    “Of course.”
    “ Will you do it?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll expect you to keep this agreement confidential,” said Roosevelt. “Say one word of it to anyone else and I will feel no obligation to fulfill my end of it.”
    “I will say nothing of it,” answered Demosthenes. “It is comforting to note that even the remarkable Theodore Roosevelt breaks the law when it suits his purposes.”
    “Only to apprehend greater lawbreakers. I don’t question your morality or methodology; I’ll thank you not to question mine.”
    “O’Brien, Pascale, Zuckerman,” said Demosthenes. “Have the money ready, Mr. Roosevelt.”
    “I’ll be in my office every afternoon.”
    “ I won’t.” Before Roosevelt could object, he held up a hand. “These men hide by day and come out at night. It is at night that I shall apprehend them.”
    He turned and walked out of the room without another word.
    ***
    Roosevelt went back to his Manhattan apartment and slept most of the day on Friday. He arose in late afternoon, had a hearty meal, and walked to his office just after sunset—
    —and found the body of Antonio Pascale on the floor.
    Damn! thought Roosevelt. I told him I wanted this man alive for questioning!
    He inspected the body more closely. It seemed even more pale than Demosthenes. Pascale had a blue silk scarf wrapped around his neck. Roosevelt moved it, and found that his throat had been ripped out.
    Roosevelt wasn’t sickened by the sight. He’d done too much taxidermy, spent too much time in the wilderness, to turn away in horror or disgust…but he was puzzled. Did Demosthenes keep a killer dog he hadn’t mentioned? Roosevelt tried to reconstruct their meeting in his mind. Could Demosthenes possibly have misunderstood that Roosevelt wanted to get information from the gang leader?
    Roosevelt summoned a team of policemen and had them take the body down to the morgue, then sat down heavily on his office chair. How could he get hold of Demosthenes before he killed another man with information Roosevelt needed?
    He was still pondering the problem a few hours later when Demosthenes, his color a bit darker and richer than the previous evening, stepped through the doorway, lowering his head to avoid bumping it against the molding. “You owe me a thousand dollars, Mr. Roosevelt.”
    “You owe me an explanation!” snapped Roosevelt. “You knew I wanted this man alive, that he had vital information!”
    “He put up a fight,” said Demosthenes calmly. “I killed him in self-defense.”
    “Did you tear out his throat in self-defense too?” demanded Roosevelt.
    “No,” answered Demosthenes. “I tore out his throat because I wanted to.”
    “Was there any doubt in your mind that I wanted him alive, that I was not paying you to kill him?”
    “None whatsoever.”
    Roosevelt pulled a small pistol out of his pocket. “Then I am arresting you for murder.”
    “Put that toy away before I become annoyed with you, Mr. Roosevelt,” said Demosthenes, unperturbed. “I will withdraw my request for the thousand dollars, and we’ll call it even.”
    “You don’t seem to understand,” said Roosevelt. “You

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