“I thought you might.”

“I only got the theory, Lett. Look at history. A bastard like Hitler and the forces behind him, funding him, they failed with their Beer Hall Putsch a good ten years before Hitler got into power. Sure. But they did not fail the second time.”

Lett grunted. “America loves a winner.”

“And no one in our history is more popular than General Douglas MacArthur at this very moment. Maybe Ike. But President Truman? Couldn’t be weaker . . .” Selfer let the words trail off. He stared between his legs, his hands hanging off his knees.

“I should’ve brought you water,” he added. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“You’ve had the rug pulled out. You’re spooked.”

“That bastard Lansdale,” Selfer said, shaking his head. “The man is so damn crude in his opportunism, it grates. He’s like some cheap carnival barker.” He muttered something, his eyes rolling around. Then he was itching at the one sleeve hanging over his lower arm. Lett hoped it was only whisky causing his bender and not something stronger. Even so, this had to be the moment. He might not find Selfer in a more compromised and vulnerable state.

“I’m going to tell you something,” Lett said. “Remember when they sent me to Honolulu? Do you know why?”

“How should I know what happened there? They don’t tell me what your missions are. I just see regular teletypes, and everyday report requests, and the usual approval forms—”

“Listen. The person I met was named Mae. She was Chinese. She told me she knew things no one else knew. About something called Golden Lily. The other thing was, she was fixing to meet with a reporter.”

Selfer’s head had reared back, his eyes wide. “Spit it out.”

“She knew that this place, The Preserve, was training an assassin.”

“Say it. Just say it.”

“This assassin, he kills a very important man. This, in turn, will spark a take-over. A coup. Just like you told me about.”

Selfer’s arms had lowered to his sides. His hands lay on the cold floor, knuckles down, palms up. His head swiveled to Lett, his face on a flat track, eyes gliding with it. “So it is true.”

“It’s just what you were afraid of, wasn’t it? About San Francisco. When you backed out of that briefing room? Thus your figuring. Thus the history lesson you’re telling me.”

Selfer stared at Lett for a long time. Lett stared back.

“Stand up,” Lett said finally. “For once. Stand up to them.”

“Like you did, during the war? Or here? Yeah, and look what happens.”

“Well, at least I’m not you.”