"Twenty-seven?"

"Ja. This agent was being trained for something very special, a mission in America."

Keegan perked up. His eyes came to life.

"He's here? In America?"

"Please, let me continue."

"Sorry."

"Fish did not know the nature of the mission-according to Fish only Hitler and Vierhaus know what he was being trained to do. But he said this assignment could neutralize America if England and France go to war against Germany."

"Neutralize America?"

"It would force the United States to stay out of the war."

"What could that possibly be?"

Gebhart shook his head. "I do not know. We speculated on it for months, imagining every possibility, but nothing made any sense."

"One man is going to pull this off?"

Gebhart nodded. "According to Fish, he will have some help but basically it is to be a one-man job. The other members of Vierhaus's group call him the Gespenstspion. "

"The ghost spy?"

"Ja. Siebenundzwanzig is a lone agent and his true identity is known only to Hitler and Vierhaus. We have no description and no name. Only that he is very, how do you say it, gefhr-lich?"

"Dangerous?"

Gebhart nodded. "And he is an expert at Verkleidung. . . "

"Disguise . . ."

Werner nodded vigorously. "Also an expert skier. He first came here in late summer of 1933. But the following spring something happened-he was caught up in some kind of FBI inquiry and he had to run."

"But he's here now? Has been for . . . Jesus, almost five years!"

"If the information is correct."

"And this Twenty-seven, he got in trouble with the government here in 1934? You're sure it was the FBI?"

"Ja. But it was not exactly that way. It was more like . . . he was involved in something as a bystander, a . . ."

"Witness?"

"Ja, a witness. But because the government police were also involved he could not risk an investigation."

"What the hell. . ." Keegan stood up and started pacing the kitchen. His energy had suddenly skyrocketed. A superspy, here in America, to perform a job so insidious it could force America to remain neutral in the event of war with Germany? Well, he thought, whatever it is, his time is running out. Events in Europe were escalating. The whole continent could be at war before the next New Year. But what could it be? And how could he find this man? He had no description, no name other than Siebenundzwanzig, no location. And why did Avrum want Keegan to pursue him?

"Avrum wants me to try and catch this Twenty-seven?"

"Ja. "

"Why me?"

"So you get him first, before the police. So there is no chance he would be tried and perhaps sent to prison instead of . . . of. . ."

"I'm not an investigator, Werner," Keegan cut him off, ignoring for a moment Gebhart's last remark. "I have no experience at such things."

"He says you can do it because you are as tormented by what they did to Jenny as he is."

"There are many, many others far more qualified to do this than me, Werner. The FBI for one. They are trained for this."

"They do not have the obsession . . ."

"Avrum learned a lot about me in a few days."

"Also they would probably not believe you. Also, Ire, you cannot tell them that I brought you the message or they will come after me."

"Yeah, the FBI and I have hardly been bosom buddies anyway. Our problems go back a ways."

"When you were a gangster?" Gebhart asked innocently.

Keegan laughed. "Yeah, Werner, when I was a gangster." Then he stopped. "Wait a minute, you said he doesn't want him to be tried in a court?"

Gebhart shook his head.

"Then . . . ?"

Gebhart said one word under his breath, a whisper, barely breathed: "Tten . . ."

"He wants me to kill the spy?"

Gebhart looked down and nodded.

"Avrum reasons that the only chance Germany has is if America, England and France go to war with Hitler. If England and France declare war on Germany do you think America will follow?"

"I don't know," Keegan said. "I seriously doubt it."

"Why? They are your allies."

"I don't know whether you can understand this, Werner, but I have a hard time getting emotional over the plight of one hundred thousand people. Or even fifty people, for that matter. It shocks me but it doesn't touch me personally. But when it became one-to-one, when it was somebody I knew, somebody I loved, when it was Jenny, then finally I understood. I think most Americans are like that. Until it hits home, until people they know start dying, they will stay away from war."

"Do you believe this story Fish told?" Gebhart asked.

"Do you?"

"I told you, Ire, I was there," he said nodding. "And I will tell you, this man did not lie or make it up, I assure you of that. What he said he said out of pure terror and pain."

"If you and Avrum are convinced, then I believe it."

"And will you pursue him?"

"Yes," Keegan said without hesitation. He stared at the German sitting across the table from him and saw great sadness in his young face.

"And kill him?" Gebhart asked.

It was not an easy question to answer. For all these years Keegan had been frustrated, filled with anger because he was powerless to help Jenny. He could do nothing. He owed one to Wolffson, now Wolffson had called in the marker and he could do something about that. The thought of it excited him. If the security of the country was at stake, that alone was reason to track down the agent known as 27. If he were doing it purely out of need for revenge that was all right, too. And if tracking this dangerous superspy gave his own existence a new purpose, all the better.

"Yes, if it's possible I'll kill him."

"Vengeance is mine," Gebhart replied. "The Lord said that."

"You have to get even before you get well," Keegan snapped back. "Ned Beerbohm said that."

Gebhart looked confused by the remark.

"I cannot give up the things I have been taught. It even troubles me to give you a message which might cause violence."

"Let me tell you something, Werner, I used to have this recurring dream. In the dream I would find Vierhaus tied up in different places here in New York. I would be carrying a cage full of hungry rats and I would spread cheese all over him and then I'd let the hungry rats loose on him and watch them literally gnaw him to death. I had that dream a lot for a while and whenever I had it, I'd wake up all sweaty and out of breath. Then as time went on, I had it less and less and finally it went away and I started dreaming about Jenny. Nice dreams at first but then they went sour, too. The Nazis had her and there was this great pane of glass between us and I couldn't break that glass. And what they were doing to her was even worse than what I did to Vierhaus. Pretty soon I started having the rat dream again. It was like waves in the ocean. For five years it's been either one or the other. When I start to get complacent, the rat dream comes back. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I have mixed feelings about all this. I've never killed anyone, except in the war. I have no compulsion to kill anyone, not even this Siebenundzwanzig, so other factors enter into it. I respect your religious beliefs, Werner, but you have to respect the way I feel."

Keegan stood up and motioned Gebhart to follow him.

"Come here, I want to show you something."

He led Gebhart through the apartment and pulled open one of the French doors. They went out on the balcony. The cold air stirred them both. Keegan turned up the collar of his jacket. His steamy breath was whisked away by the wind. He felt a sudden rush of relief. Now finally, he was shed of the fear of not knowing. Now that part of it was over. But with the relief came a great burden of guilt and there was nothing he could do about that. He would have to learn to live with it.

He pointed to the street below.

"I grew up down there," Keegan said with obvious pride.

"That was my front yard, that street right below you. I went to what you call upper school, we call it high school, right up the street about four blocks. A very hard place, Werner. Down there, if some guy does something to you, you do back to him, only twice as bad. The reason is simple: he won't bother you anymore, he'll go pick on somebody else. You might call that an eye for an eye or two eyes for an eye or whatever you want to call it, Werner. I call it survival. And if you want to survive down there, you learn three things real fast. You never squeal on a pal. You never go back on your word. And you always pay your markers-your debts. I suppose that's the closest thing to a religion I've got. So I'll tell you right now, I'm going to find this Twenty-seven. I don't know how, I don't even know where to begin, but I'll find him and when I do . . . then I'll decide."

But in his heart, Keegan knew that if he found 27 he would most certainly kill him. Not because he was a threat to the U.S. or because he was a Nazi superspy. Keegan would kill him because he owed Avrum. And Jenny. And, in the end, because he owed it to himself.

THIRTY-SEVEN.

Keegan was surprised at how fast he got from the cashier to the manicurist to the owner of the shop, who was also the barber, and finally to the man himself. He recognized the high-pitched, hoarse, voice immediately.

"Who you say this is again?"

"It's Frankie Kee, Mr. Costello. You remember me?"

"Yeah, I remember you. You still drivin' that Rolls?"

"I switched to a twelve-cylinder Packard."

"So you're that Frankie Kee."

"One and the same."

"I heard you was outa the country."

"I'm back."

"You was where, Germany?"

Costello obviously kept in touch. He was a man who never forgot information, no matter how unimportant it might seem. It went into the old memory bank and stayed there.

"That's right."

"What were you doin' over there?"

"Hating Hitler."

Costello broke out laughing, then yelped. "Jesus, Tony, you almost cut my throat . . . well I can't help it, the guy made me laugh . . . you, Frankie Kee, you almost got my throat cut for me."

"Sorry, I didn't know you were getting a shave."

"Okay, you're back. What's your problem?"

"Mr. C., my problem is I'm lookin' for a guy and I've got almost nothing to go on."

"This guy one of ours?"

"No. He's a European. Nothing to do with the business."

"So why you come to me?" There was a touch of irritation in his husky voice.

"Because I need a name. Somebody who can keep his mouth shut and can give me some pointers, like how to find somebody who doesn't want to be found."

"This is personal, am I right?"

"Very personal."

"I heard you never packed a heater."

"That's true."

"This ain't any of my business, but this guy you're lookin' to hire, does he have to do anything else? I mean, if he turns this noogle up, do you want him to do anything else for you?"