“Of course, General.”
“Matthew Canfield—entered government service, Department of the Interior, in March, nineteen seventeen. Education—one year University of Oklahoma, one and one-half years night school extension courses, Washington, D.C. Employed as a junior accountant government frauds section of Interior. Promoted to field accountant in nineteen eighteen. Attached to Group Twenty division, which, as you know …”
Cordell Hull interrupted quietly. “A small, highly trained unit assigned to conflicts of interests, misappropriations, et cetera, during the First World War. Very effective too.… Until, as most such units, it became overly impressed with itself. Disbanded in twenty-nine or thirty, I believe.”
“In nineteen thirty-two, Mr. Secretary.” General Ellis was pleased that he had the facts at his command. He flipped a second page over the top of the folder and continued to read.
“Canfield remained with Interior for a period of ten years, rising four pay grades. Superior performance. Excellent rating. In May of nineteen twenty-seven he resigned from government service to enter employment with the Scarlatti Industries.”
At the mention of the name Scarlatti, both Hull and Brayduck reacted as if stung.
“Which of the Scarlatti companies?”
“Executive Offices, five twenty-five Fifth Avenue, New York.”
Cordell Hull toyed with the thin black cord of his pince-nez. “Quite a jump for our Mr. Canfield. From night school in Washington to the executive offices of Scarlatti.” He glanced downward, taking his eyes off the general.
“Is Scarlatti one of the corporations you referred to in your memorandum?” Brayduck was impatient.
Before the brigadier could answer, Cordell Hull rose from his chair. Hull was tall and imposing. Much larger than the other two. “General Ellis, I instruct you not to answer any further questions!”
Brayduck looked as though he’d been slapped. He stared at Hull, confused and startled by the secretary’s order to the brigadier. Hull returned his gaze and spoke softly.
“My apologies, Mr. Brayduck. I cannot guarantee it, but I hope to have an explanation for you later in the day. Until then, will you be so kind as to leave us alone?”
“Of course.” Brayduck knew that this good and honest old man had his reasons. “No explanation is necessary, sir.”
“However, one is deserved.”
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary. You may be assured of my confidence regarding this meeting.”
Hull’s eyes followed Brayduck until the door was closed. He then returned to the brigadier general, who stood quietly, not comprehending. “Undersecretary Brayduck is an extraordinary public servant. My dismissing him is not to be construed as a reflection on either his character or his work.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hull slowly and in some pain sat down once more in his chair. “I asked Mr. Brayduck to leave because I believe I may know something of what you’re about to discuss. If I’m right, it’s best we be alone.”
The brigadier general was unsettled. He did not think it possible for Hull to know.
“Don’t be alarmed, General. I’m no mind reader.… I was in the House of Representatives during the period you speak of. Your words evoked a memory. An almost forgotten memory of a very warm afternoon in the House.… But perhaps I’m in error. Please continue where you left off. I believe our Major Canfield had entered employment with the Scarlatti Industries.… A most unusual step, I think you’ll agree.”
“There is a logical explanation. Canfield married the widow of Ulster Stewart Scarlett six months after Scarlett’s death in Zurich, Switzerland, in nineteen twenty-six. Scarlett was the youngest of two surviving sons of Giovanni and Elizabeth Scarlatti, founders of the Scarlatti Industries.”
Cordell Hull briefly closed his eyes. “Go on.”
“Ulster Scarlett and his wife Janet Saxon Scarlett had a son, Andrew Roland, subsequently adopted by Matthew Canfield after his marriage to Scarlett’s widow. Adopted but not separated from the Scarlatti estates.… Canfield continued in the employ of Scarlatti until August, nineteen forty, when he returned to government service and was commissioned in Army Intelligence.”
General Ellis paused and looked over the folder at Cordell Hull. He wondered if Hull was beginning to understand, but the secretary’s face betrayed no expression.
“You spoke of the file Canfield has requested from the archives. What is it?”
“That was my next consideration, Mr. Secretary.” Ellis folded over another page. “The file is only a number to us, but the number gives us the year of its entry.… It’s nineteen twenty-six, the fourth quarter of twenty-six to be exact.”