Jack 1939 by Francine Mathews Read Free Book Online Page A

want?” Hopper asked.
    Jack did not answer for a moment. He had come all this way for help because Hopper was the only man he really trusted, and now that he was here, the whole fantastic night—the Pullman hidden beneath New York, the Nazi funds, FDR’s third term—seemed like a hallucination. Maybe it was the pellets he kept thrusting under his skin. Maybe DOCA made a guy crazy.
    He shrugged. “He wants me to keep my eyes open while I’m traveling in Europe.”
    “Makes sense.” Hopper fumbled in his coat pocket for a cigarette case and lighter. “You’ll be on the ground in a potential combat zone. You’ll glad-hand everybody and talk their ears off. That’s what you
do
. Smoke?”
    They lit up and exhaled, staring at the river. The shells moved with precision, eight oars lifting at the coxswain’s count, eight backs bending. Jack recognized a guy who lived on his floor at Spee, mouth furled in anguish. He knew crew was hard as hell, but it looked beautiful from a distance and he wanted to remember it that way, even if inside the shell it was pure suffering.
    “You told him I’m an independent thinker.”
    “You are. Is that a sin in the Kennedy household?”
    Jack glanced at him. “Depends who’s laying down the law.”
    “Joe, for instance.” Hopper had taught Jack’s older brother a few years ago. “But you’re always arguing with Joe, and you’re usually right.”
    “That’s different from . . .
advising a president
. I mean, what if I don’t see or hear anything special, Professor? Never mind what it means for my thesis. What if I . . .”
    “Fail?”
    Jack nodded.
    “Do nothing, and you fail,” Hopper said gently. “You’ve already chosen to act. You’re leaving Harvard. You’re going to Europe.
Jesus
, Jack—I’d leap at your chances! You get to watch the world blow up and figure out who lit the fuse.”
    “What,” Jack deadpanned. “Teaching Government 1 to a bunch of Brahmins isn’t enough for you anymore?”
    “Look.” Hopper turned toward him in exasperation. “You’re
young
. You don’t realize yet that there are only a few times in life when you get to test everything you’ve got—when the moment calls and you have to respond. Half these boys in the Yard are stone deaf as far as the world is concerned, but
you
—you were made to live by your wits and the seat of your pants and the dumb luck that’s kept you going this long.
This is your moment, Jack.
Don’t miss it. It comes around once or twice and never comes again. I know.”
    Jack heard the raw longing in Hopper’s smoky voice and felt his pulse quicken. It was impossible not to feel a dangerous exhilaration. To want to fly straight into enemy gunfire.
    “Is he looking for something specific?” Hopper asked tentatively. “Or just . . . general intelligence on the ground?”
    Jack hesitated, his hands clenched inside his coat pockets.
    “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked.”
    “Professor—”
    “It’s okay. You’ll be in England for a while?”
    “Most of March. Then I head to Paris. After that—” Jack grinned. “Summer, and Points East. I’d like to get to Moscow.”
    “Lord,” Hopper sighed. “Youth is wasted on the young, you know that?”
    Jack waited. Hopper was scanning the sky for wings.
    “Right,”
he said at last. “Chamberlain runs the Tory Party the way Mussolini runs his trains. Dissent is not tolerated; it’s Neville’s way or the highway. Agree with the Prime Minister, or be booted out of Parliament. Which means you’ve got to talk to Churchill, Jack. He’s not afraid of Neville and he sees the coming mess for what it is.”
    “I met Churchill last summer. My dad says he’s just a drunk.”
    “Oh, he drinks all day long. Whiskey in his bath, champagne at lunch, claret for dinner . . . To Churchill, drinking is good manners, not a disease.”
    “Dad says nobody listens to him anymore.”
    “I hope he didn’t tell Roosevelt