Twenty-Nine
Luke listened in amazement as Gray recounted what had been going on in the outside world over the past week. Gray and Mr. Alphonse told him the good news as they sat in the tiny meeting room.
“The Poison Squad are the most popular men in town,” Gray said. “They’re giving daily interviews to the newspapers, and Dr. Wiley isn’t reining them in anymore. There’s an annoying Italian who is always touting the extent of his suffering and hamming it up for the press. He announced he would be signing autographs at the base of the Washington Monument tonight.”
Luke grinned. “Nicolo will do anything for attention, especially if it involves attention from the ladies. Keep talking.”
This was too good to be true. The Poison Squad was trying to gin up as much attention for his case as possible, and they were doing a bang-up job of it. The Associated Press and Reuters had picked up the stories and wired them to newspapers all over the nation. Even some of the foreign newspapers were carrying the story of the brave young men putting their lives on the line for science, but Luke didn’t care about the foreign press. All he cared about was putting enough pressure on Congress to get him released from jail.
“All the stories are being spun in your favor,” his lawyer said. “Journalists don’t like people being thrown in jail for reporting the truth, and the pressure is on Congress to explain why they have been suppressing those studies.”
“What are they saying?” Luke asked.
“Congressman Dern is doing all the talking,” Gray said. “He’s claiming the studies weren’t suppressed, they were merely being withheld pending a complete analysis of all the data, and frankly, he’s got a valid point. He’s incensed about the article you wrote and isn’t backing down.”
“Then we dial up pressure in the press,” Luke said, but Mr. Alphonse shook his head.
“The only fight that matters is the one in court, not the press. Congressman Dern has a better hand of cards than we do if this case goes to court, and he’s bracing for a long battle.”
The familiar prickling sensation forced Luke to stand and start pacing in the tight confines of the meeting room. There was barely any space to move, but the thought of remaining locked up indefinitely made it impossible to sit still.
“Can I get out on bail until the trial?”
“We’ve already tried and failed,” Gray said. “Your only shot of getting out of here is revealing how you got your hands on those studies. If you give us the name—”
“That’s never going to happen,” he interrupted.
“I repeat: If you give us the name, we can have you out of here within twenty-four hours.”
“And you’ll have my soul in tatters.” Luke dropped back into the chair. For the past few minutes his spirit had been soaring, and he’d stupidly begun to hope that the power of the pen might break open his prison door, but it wouldn’t happen. He braced his forehead in his hands, staring at the cracked paint of the table.
He didn’t want to be here. He was dying in here, his soul shriveling up, but the thought of doing anything that would hurt Marianne had the power to stop his breath. He sagged as the words came pouring out.
“I won’t ever turn my back on her. She is my brightest star, my inspiration for wanting to be a better man. I’ll stay loyal to her no matter what the cost.”
Gray turned to Mr. Alphonse, his voice heavy with reluctant admiration. “I’m afraid he’s not going to budge. It’s time to prepare for trial.”
Marianne’s banishment to her bedroom was lifted when Colonel Phelps asked to escort her to a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the Smithsonian’s National Zoological Park. It was a daytime event, and it would have been perfectly acceptable for Colonel Phelps to escort Marianne on his own, but he worried about public perception and asked Vera to accompany them.
“Are you feeling all right, Mama?” Marianne asked as she walked beside Vera toward the zoo. It was a warm summer’s day, and Vera had insisted on wearing her tightest corset because Mrs. Roosevelt would be cutting the ribbon for a new exhibit and Vera wanted to look her best.
“I’m fine,” Vera said in a shallow breath. She could be on the verge of fainting, but she’d never admit it in front of Colonel Phelps, who was walking on her other side. Vera still wasn’t quite at ease with Marianne’s exalted suitor.
Several hundred people had arrived to see the dedication of the new bird enclosure featuring a pair of bald eagles. The newly arrived eagles promised to be the most popular animals at the zoo, and Mrs. Roosevelt wanted to do the honors.
“Let’s find a spot in the shade,” Marianne said, nudging Vera toward the cluster of people already gathered in a tree-shaded spot beside the bird house.
“There’s plenty of room next to the podium,” Vera insisted. There was no dissuading her. Marianne reluctantly found a spot near the podium where Vera could show off her wasp-waisted gown and impressive summer bonnet.
Mrs. Roosevelt soon arrived, smiling and nodding to the assembled guests. High-society socialites eager to rub shoulders with the first lady stood alongside sweaty tourists and sticky-fingered children. Journalists began scribbling in their pads, and a few newspaper photographers took pictures as the director of the zoo introduced the first lady.
“Thank you for that generous welcome,” the first lady said after stepping up to the podium. Edith Roosevelt was an effortlessly graceful woman. Despite her gaunt face and plain features, there was something immensely kind in her intelligent face. Marianne and Colonel Phelps eagerly clapped along with the rest of the tourists, while Vera gently patted the palm of her gloved hands. Vera always thought showing too much enthusiasm was tacky.
Eventually two zookeepers emerged from behind a screen, each carrying a bald eagle perched on their arm. Both eagles immediately lifted off to settle on high branches near the top of the caged-in area.
“Absolutely magnificent,” Colonel Phelps said. “Let me see if I can persuade the gamekeeper to give us a private showing.”
“Oh, yes, please!” Marianne enthused.
Colonel Phelps set off, but Vera preferred to mingle with the crowd around Mrs. Roosevelt. Before they could get any closer to the first lady, Marianne spotted a grim-faced man heading straight toward them. She would recognize that bushy red mustache anywhere. It was Congressman Dern, the chairman of her father’s committee. He gave her a brusque nod.
Vera smiled politely. “Roland, how delightful to see you.”
“I’m afraid my visit is no cause for delight,” the congressman replied. “I’m looking for your husband. It’s a matter of some urgency. The maid at your house said he could be found here.”
Vera shook her head. “We dropped him off at his accountant’s office on our way.”
Congressman Dern shifted in discomfort. He looked annoyed, embarrassed, and hot in the pounding sun. He met Vera’s eyes. “The matter concerns both of you as well,” he said. “Is there somewhere we can go to speak privately?”
A terrible sense of foreboding descended as Marianne and Vera accompanied Congressman Dern down the path toward the duck pond. The crowds were thinner here, as most people were admiring the bald eagles.