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“Who will you start him under, Isaac?”
“Grady Forrer.”
“Research?”
“It’s clear talking to him that Asa’s read every magazine printed. He’ll get a good start with Grady, and we’ll move him around from there.”
Bell turned to a noise at the door. A Van Dorn messenger was knocking softly. “Mr. Bell? Cable from Germany.”
KOZLOV COMMUNIST FIGHTER BERLIN UPRISING.
RIGHT HAND TO COMINTERN AGENT MARAT ZOLNER,
ALIAS DMITRI SMIRNOFF,
ALIAS DIMA SMIRNOV.
ZOLNER ESCAPED GOVERNMENT DEATH SENTENCE.
SINCE KOZLOV IS DEAD I AM TRACING MARAT ZOLNER.
A name at last.
• • •
ISAAC BELL raced back to the St. Regis and burst into the Van Dorn offices, calling out for Grady Forrer. The Research man lumbered up to Bell’s desk in the middle of the bull pen. Under one massive arm was a cardboard file folder, bulging to capacity.
“Russia again,” said Bell. “Pauline found another Bolshevik connection. Find out everything you can about a Comintern agent named Marat Zolner. And I want a full report on the Comintern.”
“The Comintern is the foreign espionage arm of the Russian Revolution,” said Grady Forrer. He heaved the file folder onto Bell’s desk, where it landed like a blacksmith’s anvil.
“What’s this?”
“Your report on the Comintern.”
“What?”
“I suspected you would want it after your interest in Cheka Genickschuss—neck shots.”
A pleased smile warmed Isaac Bell’s face. It was right and fit that the crime-fighting operation Joseph Van Dorn had taken such pains to build had shifted smoothly into top gear to bring his attackers to justice.
Grady patted the folder lovingly. “The gist is, the Comintern exports the Communist revolution around the world to, quote, ‘overthrow the governments of the international bourgeoisie by all available means—spying, sabotage, and armed force.’”
“How are they doing?”
“They fell on their face in Hungary and, so far at least, they’re falling on their face in Germany. I predict they will fare better in India and much, much better in China.”
“What about here? How are they making out in America?”
Grady adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. Bell was familiar with his deliberate expression. He had seen it often. Grady’s central belief—a tenet he drilled into his apprentices—was that generalizations murdered facts.
“Interesting question, Isaac. And difficult to answer. America is different. We were not destroyed by the World War. Despite the current business recession, we are not starving. And I see no evidence that the Comintern has united the warring American Communist factions in any manner that made them stronger.”
“What about the anarchists?”
Grady Forrer shook his head. “The Bureau of Investigation would have us believe the Bolsheviks have teamed up with radicals and anarchists. That is simply not true.”
“Why not?”
