Quest for Anna Klein, The by Thomas H. Cook Read Free Book Online

your discipline,” Danforth said, meaning it half as a joke. He shrugged. “I suppose you know that I’ve been asked to provide a place where you can be trained.”
    One of her tiny brown hands inched over and covered the other. “Yes,” she answered, then suddenly leaned forward. “Why did you want to meet me?” she asked quite determinedly and in a way that radically shifted what had seemed a secure balance of power: Danforth was now the one being evaluated, she the one with favors to grant.
    â€œTo satisfy myself, I suppose,” he answered. “I wanted to make sure you were a serious person.”
    â€œAnd are you satisfied that I am?” she asked.
    Her frankness surprised him, as did her impatience to get on with whatever task lay before her.
    â€œYes,” Danforth answered quickly, though it was not until that moment that he realized he was. “I’m not being asked to do very much, after all.”
    â€œSo we’ll use your place for the training?” Anna asked.
    Danforth nodded.
    She rose and began to gather her things, her movements quick but precise, not at all like the antic twitches of the character she’d played when he’d first seen her at the Old Town Bar.
    â€œI thought we might have dinner,” Danforth said.
    She shook her head. “I have work.”
    With that she reached for her coat, drew out an envelope, and offered it to Danforth. “I’m to give you this. It’s from Clayton.”
    Danforth took the envelope from her, and as he took it, he noted how small her hand was, how nearly doll-like and delicate, the slenderness of her bones. “Do you know what’s in here?” he asked.
    She nodded as she put on her coat. “The next step,” she said.

Century Club, New York City, 2001
    Here Danforth paused and drew in a slow breath.
    â€œThere are symbolic gestures, Paul,” he said. “They may be small, like taking that envelope from Anna’s hand, but they have the force of moral commitment.”
    â€œLike that line Travis drew in the dust at the Alamo,” I said.
    â€œThere’s no actual proof that that ever happened,” Danforth said. “But it doesn’t matter. And yes, my taking that envelope from Anna’s hand was like that, a gesture that states quite clearly that from this moment on, there will be no turning back.” Hepaused again, then added, “With that simple gesture I committed myself to the Project. Not just to the rather unspectacular thing I’d been asked to do for it, provide a house in the country, but to the Project as a whole. It turned out to be a good thing, since Clayton was already asking me to take another step — to provide a cover identity for Anna — which I did after I read the note inside the envelope.” He took a sip from his drink. “And so the next day, following the instructions in that note, I put an ad for a special assistant in the classified section of the
New York Times.
The applicant’s only requirement was that he or she had to be available for extended service abroad and be familiar with several languages.” He smiled softly but warily; he briefly appeared to me like a child being led into a dark wood.
    â€œThen I waited,” he said.

Danforth Imports, New York City, 1939
    Over the next few days, applicants for the special-assistant position came and went, mostly young men with sparkling credentials, some of whom were quick to mention their distinguished families and the prestigious schools they had attended. Fraternities were brought up, as were summers in the Hamptons or on Cape Cod. It was clear to Danforth that some of the applicants viewed importation as an attractive career choice, perhaps even, oddly enough, a step toward acquiring a position in the State Department. Several of these young men had traveled extensively, and all spoke at least one foreign language, though their