There was a big rally planned for February 20th at Madison Square Garden. They were printing the flyers, posters, and speeches. Josef glanced through all of it and nodded. Mein Bundesführer, Josef read. Fellow white Americans and other nonparasitic guests! He didn’t feel good. There was a buzzing inside his head. He looked at Schmuederrich, who sat across from him and proudly held forth on the security measures.

“We’re expecting twenty thousand patriots! And La Guardia is providing seventeen hundred policemen for our protection! I’m liking this country more and more!”

They spoke German, which felt hard and sharp-edged in his mouth, not like English, which flowed like liquid over the tongue. They had first met last year at the Rotesandbar in Yorkville, but right away Schmuederrich had started talking as if they’d known each other for years. “I might look like I have a small dick. But I’ve got a big one.” And he’d gone on: “We can’t do enough cheating and spreading our German seed around.” The women had squealed, Eeek, but with a certain excitement. A light and carefree feeling had set in around the heavyset Schmuederrich. A kind of fun.

“How’s that radio hobby of yours? You’re a bit of a tinkerer—am I remembering that right?”

Josef nodded. He had heard somewhere recently that Schmuederrich’s American wife wanted a divorce.

“Let me see that photo again, would you?”

Josef took out the photo. He always had it with him. He and Princess in front of his radio equipment; the dog looked as tall as him.

Schmuederrich seemed to be thinking about something. “Sometime soon I’m going to put you in touch with some German businessmen. They’re looking for new means of communicating with Europe. Could be interesting for you. Some nice cash on the side. Would you be interested?”

He heard women’s voices speaking on the telephone in the next room and then himself saying, “Definitely. Making money with a hobby, sounds good to me,” and he could feel his pulse start racing for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Schmuederrich stood up, shook his hand, and said, “Then we’ll see each other on February 20th at Madison Square Garden. Your boss says you’re coming. I’ll take care of the tickets.”

No one had told him about that, but he kept the friendly look on his face. Arthur considered it important for them to make appearances at their clients’ events.

“I’m sure you’ll feel safe with us.”