Air Force Eagles by Walter J. Boyne Read Free Book Online Page A

and the governor were more than close.
    For the past five years, Dixon had been deeply involved in Ruddick's special project and had used his own funds for the recruitment of potential Klan leaders. Dixon was indispensable to the future of the Klan.
    "Let me see what I can do. I know you've really extended yourself."
    "I'm glad to do it, Milo, but I'm just caught short this year. You know what's happened to prices. Do you want me to contact our overseas friend for some new merchandise?"
    Ruddick pursed his lips and whistled. "I don't know, Dixon. We pretty well have the best of the crop in hand now, and—"
    Dixon's rough laughter interrupted him. "And you don't want to part with any of them. I know. But there's still a market out there for the second-rate material, things we can still have shipped in."
    He was right, of course; the basement of Ruddick's home was filled with racks of paintings, the heart of the "lost" Hermann Goering collection. Only he could enjoy them—and that was the way he preferred it.
    "You're right, as usual, Dixon, much as I hate to admit it. See what you can do and get back to me."
    Ruddick leaned back in his chair to examine again the hazardous course he was charting. He knew in his heart that the emotional basis of the Klan ran too deep in Southern culture for it to ever die. But the Klan was an object of national ridicule, and rightly so. A primitive Rotary club, its members were largely ignorant rednecks hating blindly without a cause. But loosely organized as it was, it had potential. After all, Hitler had started his political career with a party with seven members. There were still thousands of Klansmen, and millions more would join if the Klan could be revitalized. It was a question of organizing it properly, giving it the right goals. And the name had to be changed to something ambiguously popular. There was no doubt that Dixon could get some more paintings—the man had his hand in everything—but if he got them, would it be possible to give them up?
    *
    Salinas, California/December 24, 1947
    The party got more comfortable as the adults got more to drink—the men Old Forester bourbon, the women a rough Italian table wine from a local farmer—and the children came to the point where they knew each other well enough to play and not yet well enough to fight.
    The U-shaped frame and stone house progressed from the original clapboard Roget farmhouse, which was one wing, to the new stucco addition where the Bandfields lived. Nestled between the two wings was a courtyard with a swing set and a swimming pool for the kids. Clarice Roget had chosen the site carefully. Both front porches overlooked a dry river valley winding its diminishing channel out through parched rocks and scrub pines to the town. Hadley Roget was standing with his arms on the railing, staring out at the flickering lights that each year reached out closer to them from Salinas.
    Bandfield came out and slipped his arm around his old friend's shoulder.
    "Bet you're thinking how happy Clarice would be to see this shindig."
    Hadley nodded. "This place is a monument to her, you know. She built it because she was tired of you and me running around playing with airplanes. She wanted it to be just big enough for two families—with lots of babies."
    "Well, even Clarice would have enough babies to go around tonight."
    "How's little Ulrich getting along with your kids?"
    "He's a nice boy, shy, after all he's been through. Lyra watches over him like a tigress—I think she's a little too protective."
    "Patty still crazy about Lyra?"
    "If she liked a man as much, I'd shoot the bastard. I think they get along so well because they both know how miserable it is to be married to a pilot."
    Roget turned and eyed him quizzically. "I hear what you're saying, but I can tell you're not too happy. What's the matter?"
    "I'll be honest with you, Hadley. I don't like having people living in our side of the house. You and Clarice were always over in