“Things may have changed lately,” Eddie said. “We’re hearing rumors.”

“Of?”

“An insurrectionary act of violence on a major scale.”

“When? What kind?”

His father shook his head. “That information carries with it a need-to-know designation, and you don’t need to know yet.”

“In due time, Dan.” Eddie McKenna gave him a big smile. “In due time.”

“‘The purpose of terrorism,’” his father said, “‘is to inspire terror.’ Know who said that?”

Danny nodded. “Lenin.”

“He reads the papers,” his father said with a soft wink.

McKenna leaned in toward Danny. “We’re planning an operation to counter the radicals’ plans, Dan. And we need to know exactly where your sympathies lie.”

“Uh-huh,” Danny said, not quite seeing the play yet.

Thomas Coughlin had leaned back from the light, his cigar gone dead between his fingers. “We’ll need you to tell us what’s transpiring with the social club.”

“What social club?”

Thomas Coughlin frowned.

“The Boston Social Club?” Danny looked at Eddie McKenna. “Our union?”

“It’s not a union,” Eddie McKenna said. “It just wants to be.”

“And we can’t have that,” his father said. “We’re policemen, Aiden, not common laborers. There’s a principle to be upheld.”

“Which principle is that?” Danny said. “Fuck the workingman?” Danny took another look around the room, at the men gathered here on an innocent Sunday afternoon. His eyes fell on Steedman. “What’s your stake in this?”

Steedman gave him a soft smile. “Stake?”

Danny nodded. “I’m trying to figure out just what it is you’re doing here.”

Steedman reddened at that and looked at his cigar, his jaw moving tightly.

Thomas Coughlin said, “Aiden, you don’t speak to your elders in that tone. You don’t—”

“I’m here,” Steedman said, looking up from his cigar, “because workers in this country have forgotten their place. They have forgotten, young Mr. Coughlin, that they serve at the discretion of those who pay their wages and feed their families. Do you know what a ten-day strike can do? Just ten days.”

Danny shrugged.

“It can cause a medium-size business to default on its loans. When loans are in default, stock plummets. Investors lose money. A lot of money. And they have to cut back their business. Then the bank has to step in. Sometimes, this means the only solution is foreclosure. The bank loses money, the investors lose money, their companies lose money, the original business goes under, and the workers lose their jobs anyway. So while the idea of unions is, on the surface, rather heart-warming, it is also quite unconscionable for reasonable men to so much as discuss it in polite company.” He took a sip of his brandy. “Does that answer your question, son?”

“I’m not exactly sure how your logic applies to the public sector.”

“In triplicate,” Steedman said.

Danny gave him a tight smile and turned to McKenna. “Is Special Squads going after unions, Eddie?”

“We’re going after subversives. Threats to this nation.” He gave Danny a roll of his big shoulders. “I need you to hone your skills somewhere. Might as well start local.”