Fellow Travelers

by Thomas Mallon

“You look steady enough to me,” said Tommy, whose eyes were now fixed on Private G. David Schine. “I’m trying to remember which does what,” said Tim. “The Mann Act and the Volstead Act, I mean.” Tommy laughed. “The first one strives mightily to protect underaged innocence. Oh, it’s a terrible law to be caught violating.” After a pause, he added: “But set a thief to catch a thief.” Tim pointed toward Iris Flores. “She certainly looks twenty-one.” “Oh, she is,” said Tommy, baring yellow teeth as he laughed. “That’s not Schine’s problem.” Was it, Tim wondered, remembering Alsop’s information, someone else’s problem? Perhaps a problem Schine knew McCarthy had? Was Tommy on the verge of revelation? Tim had wondered for months why the older man kept plying him with riddles. It had to be more than Celtic fraternity or some sadistic impulse to harrow his naïveté. But still there was no answer, and as always Tommy—now making a clear-eyed beeline for Senator Flanders—was off even more quickly than he’d materialized.