The older man returned the younger’s smile. “I guess you did.”
“Is this it?” The boy placed the briefcase on the table and fingered it.
“Everything.”
“I suppose I should feel privileged.”
“It took an executive order from the president to get it out of State.”
“Really?” The boy looked up.
“Don’t be alarmed. I doubt he knows what’s in it.”
“How come?”
“A deal was made. There was an understanding.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I think you will after you read it. No more than ten people have ever seen it in full, and most of them are dead. When we compiled the last quarter of the file, we did it in segments … in nineteen thirty-eight. It’s in the separate folder with the lead seals. The pages are out of sequence and have to be collated. The key’s on the first page.” The major quickly loosened his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Was all that necessary?”
“We thought it was. As I recall, we used rotating pools of typists.” The major started toward a bedroom door. “I suggest you arrange the pages before starting the last folder.” He entered the bedroom, hastily took off his shirt, and unlaced his shoes. The young man followed and stood in the doorframe.
“When are we going?” asked the boy.
“Thursday.”
“How?”
“Bomber Ferry Command. Matthews Air Force Base to Newfoundland, Iceland, Greenland, to Ireland. From Ireland, on a neutral, straight through to Lisbon.”
“Lisbon?”
“The Swiss embassy takes over from there. They’ll take us to Bern.… We’re fully protected.”
Canfield, having removed his trousers, selected a pair of light gray flannels from the closet and put them on.
“What’s Mother going to be told?” asked the young man.
Canfield crossed into the bathroom without replying. He filled the washbowl with hot water and began lathering his face.
The boy’s eyes followed him, but he did not move or break the silence. He sensed that the older man was far more upset than he wished to show.
“Get me a clean shirt from the second drawer over there, will you, please. Just put it on the bed.”
“Sure.” He selected a wide-collar broadcloth from the stack of shirts in the dresser drawer.
Canfield spoke while he shaved. “Today’s Monday, so we’ll have three days. I’ll be making the final arrangements, and it’ll give you time to digest the file. You’ll have questions, and I don’t have to tell you that you’ll have to ask me. Not that you’ll be speaking to anyone else who could answer you, anyway, but in case you get hot and want to pick up a phone, don’t.”
“Understood.”
“Incidentally, don’t feel you have to commit anything to memory. That’s not important. I simply know that you have to understand.”
Was he being honest with the boy? Was it really necessary to make him feel the weight of official truth? Canfield had convinced himself that it was, for no matter the years, no matter the affection between them, Andrew was a Scarlett. In a few years he would inherit one of the largest fortunes on earth. Such persons had to have responsibility thrust upon them when it was necessary, not when it was convenient.
Or did they?
Or was Canfield simply taking the easiest way for himself? Let the words come from someone else. Oh, God! Make somebody else speak!
Drying his face with a towel, the major splashed some Pinaud on his face and started putting on his shirt.
“If you’re interested, you missed most of your beard.”
“Not interested.” He selected a tie from a rack on the closet door and pulled a dark blue blazer from a hanger. “When I leave, you can start reading. If you go out for dinner, put the briefcase in the cabinet to the right of the library door. Lock it. Here’s the key.” He unclipped a small key from his key ring.
The two men walked out of the bedroom, and Canfield started toward the front hall.
“You either didn’t hear me or you don’t want to answer, but what about Mother?”
“I heard you.” Canfield turned toward the young man. “Janet isn’t supposed to know anything.”
“Why not? Supposing something happens?”
Canfield was visibly upset. “It’s my judgment that she be told nothing.”
“I don’t agree with you.” The young man remained subdued.
“That doesn’t concern me!”
“Maybe it should. I’m pretty important to you now.… I didn’t choose to be, Dad.”
“And you think that gives you the right to issue orders?”