“So he’s already a member, then?”

“No,” said Arthur and smiled, “but maybe you should become one, huh, Joe?”

Reluctantly Josef filled out the form and was then swept up in a crowd of men. They called themselves the citizens’ guard and were heading up to Washington Heights. For a few years the neighborhood had been known as Frankfurt on the Hudson, also the Fourth Reich. Arthur caught him by the sleeve.

“I’m only going as far as Harlem,” Josef said.

They marched at a fast clip through the dark streets, heading in the direction of Central Park, and there, where they stood less chance of being heard—it was now illegal—they started shouting, “Sieg Heil!”

One poked at a dead rat with his foot. “We could use it, right, boys?” Laughter. One of them came up with a newspaper to wrap the carcass in. “Keep your eyes open. Maybe we’ll find a few more.”

One of them was an elevator attendant, another worked in a butcher shop, still another sold shoes. “Have you read the Protocols?” Josef shook his head. “Until you read the Protocols you’ve got no chance of understanding what’s really going on in the world.”

The cold was fierce. His teeth chattered. They handed him a bottle of vodka and clapped him on the shoulder.

When they drew even with the Harlem Meer at the northern edge of the park, he stopped. A wild goose fluttered up from the reeds. “I’ve got an appointment to keep on the radio.”

Arthur gave him a nod. “See you tomorrow.”

Only a few people were still out on the streets. On Park Avenue a man with a horse blanket thrown over his shoulders was trying to pee behind a parked car without anyone noticing. A woman rooted around in a trash can. In the beauty parlors there were still a few young women getting their hair straightened.

The lights were still on at Idrie’s too. He bought two slices of bean pie, ate them as he walked, and enjoyed the filling sweetness. The warming smell of cinnamon covered over the impressions of that evening, the mob of men spoiling for a fight, their rage.

At home he poured some food into the dog bowl for Princess. Sat down on the one chair in his kitchen and watched the dog split and crush the little pellets, saw the remaining food get dark with her saliva.