The Strivers' Row Spy by Jason Overstreet Read Free Book Online Page A

do it in my cousin’s honor.”
    â€œSpeed has no idea you know all this shit.”
    â€œDon’t make it sound like too much,” I said. “I’m no master, that’s for sure. Kodokan Judo just gave me a starting point, a foundation. It gave me discipline in every facet of my life.”
    Ellington began flexing his arms and jokingly asked, “But do you think you could handle Zeus?”
    I smiled. “No.”
    We both stared at the still-quiet hideout, wondering what those so-called Galleanists were doing in there.
    * * *
    It had been seventeen days, and finally the rain stopped. With only four days left in Baltimore, I sat alone with Jones at dinner—basic fare—red meat, mashed potatoes, turnip greens, and corn. It was the first time the two of us had engaged in any substantive conversation.
    Ellington and Mann were still sleeping, while Speed, Knox, and Long were on night watch. This was a first, as they had always reserved the day shift for themselves.
    â€œThis is something, isn’t it?” I asked. “The two of us being in this position.”
    â€œIndeed,” said Jones. “I knew it would happen eventually—just didn’t know if it would be in my lifetime. Actually, let me slow way down. It still may not happen in my lifetime. They haven’t hired either of us yet. And I learned in the police department, waiting for a brother to rise within the ranks is akin to watching paint dry. But I’m optimistic.”
    â€œYou were a policeman, huh?”
    â€œThat’s right.” He sipped his lemonade. “After college I took a job as a policeman in Washington—as a footman. You a college man, Temple?”
    â€œMiddlebury College,” I said. “Vermont.”
    â€œI’m a Virginia Union graduate.”
    â€œYou’re also a veteran of the war, correct?”
    â€œYes,” he said. “But that doesn’t seem to mean much to ol’ Speed. To tell you the truth, the fact that we’re training, eating, and sleeping alongside these men is something to behold in itself. When I was sent to Des Moines, Iowa, for training, the facility was segregated. And, of course, when we actually went off to fight in France, we were confined to colored units. My men and I battled the enemy in the Vosges Mountains. It was ugly.”
    â€œI can only imagine.”
    I watched him pick at his turnip greens, trying to think of a question worth asking. This was a man who’d seen hell.
    â€œWhat unit were you in?” I finally asked.
    â€œI wasn’t just in . I was in command of a Company F. It was part of the 368th Infantry. Like I said, an all-Negro outfit. We fought like hell. And when the war ended, unlike the colored troops of Britain and France, who were very well represented in the grand victory parade down Paris’s Champs-Élysées, we American coloreds were kept out of sight.”
    I could sense his uneasiness about thinking back. And as we finished our meal in silence, I believe he respected my decision not to press on. We understood each other. And when it came to being Bureau agents, we certainly understood the unique position we were in.
    * * *
    The next day Ellington and I arose before the others and walked to our training site at Patterson Park where we sat on damp grass waiting for the hard day to begin. I could smell the recently poured fertilizer and noticed the shoddiness of the fence around the field. Beyond, I could see the top of the Phoenix Shot Tower. As if out of nowhere, Agent Speed approached with Jones and Mann. He began yelling.
    â€œAll right, get your asses off the ground and get in position. This is going to be a sprint, not a goddamn jog. Understand?”
    The four of us lined up and, on Speed’s cue, ran the first of ten sprints. I felt like vomiting up my oatmeal from the morning’s breakfast. Kodokan Judo hadn’t worked my lungs the same way.
    Later that