And there was a secret side to Stanley S. Fine that not even his wife understood. If he had had his way, he would have been an aviator, not a lawyer. His heroes were Lindbergh, Doolittle, and Howard Hughes, not the august members of the Supreme Court. And while of course it could be the wine that let him think this, he sort of had the feeling that after he told Canidy and Bitter that he’d earned his commercial ticket and that he was trying to come up with the money to buy a Beechcraft, they seemed to hold him in a different light, maybe even consider him sort of an associate member of their fraternity. So far as Stanley S. Fine was concerned, being a fighter pilot was the realization of the ultimate dream.
About to:30, Chesty and Jim Whittaker came into the dining room, followed by the headwaiter and a busboy carrying two chairs.
Jim Whittaker quickly ducked his head and gave an unsuspecting, and immediately annoyed, Cynthia Chenowith a quick, wet kiss.
“Jim!” she cried out, blushing. “Would you stop acting like a child and behave yourself?”
“I have been behaving myself,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Chesty?”
“With one or two minor little lapses, he was on his very best behavior 9” Chesty said, and turned to order brandy from the headwaiter.
“And did you tell Uncle Franklin how miffed you were that he’s kept you in uniform?” Canidy asked.
“Oh yes ‘ ” Chesty Whittaker replied, laughing. “He told him.”
“And what did he say?” Canidy asked.
“He told me how proud the nation is of all of us who stand at the gates, defending freedom,” Jim said dryly. He turned to Cynthia. “Has Canidy been making passes at you, my love?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Jimmy!”
“Bitter has,” Canidy said. “Bitter’s been feeling my knee and simultaneously making eyes at her. He’s not very good in the dark. I would have said something, but he looked so happy.”
Chesty Whittaker’s smile was strained.
I did that, Canidy realized, to see what his reaction would be. And he didjust what I expected.
“Why don’t we change the subject?” Cynthia said. “And not back to airplanes, if you don’t mind.”
“Well, I for one would like to hear,” Chesty said, “about the Great Cedar Rapids Fire Dick Canidy had, as it were, his hand in.”
Fine told the story. He was a good storyteller, and his descriptions of the man whose Studebaker had blown up and the juvenile counselor’s disappointment at losing the chance to rehabilitate Fulmar and Canidy had the others laughing boisterously.
“And proving beyond doubt my uncle Max’s belief that it’s a small world, Eric Fulmar’s the reason I’m in Washington,” Fine said. “Eric’s in Morocco, and that is worrying the studio.”
“Why should that worry the studio?” Canidy asked. “Oh, because of his mother?”
Fine nodded. “It would be embarrassing if it became public knowledge that he exists at all, and it would probably kill her at the box office if it came out that he’s part Gennan.”
“He’s not a German, he’s an American ‘ ” Whittaker snorted.
“He may think of himself as an American, but I have to establish that once and for all, and when I do, that opens the next question.”
“Which is?” Canidy asked.
“What is the legal position, vis-A-vis the draft, of people with dual citizenship?”
Fine said. “And of people like Eric, who are out of the country? Does the law require an expatriate to register for the draft? If so, when? When the law goes into effect? Or when the expatriate returns to the United States?”
“Interesting question,” Chesty Whittaker said.
“And then,” Canidy said, “there is the question of the draft dodger himself.”
Cynthia and Fine both gave him a dirty look.
“Catching him, I mean,” Canidy said. “After you ambulance chasers have come to all your solemn legal decisions, there is the question of applying them.”
“I can see it now,” Jim Whittaker said. “A platoon of Cynthia’s Foggy Bottom cronies, in top hats and morning coats, struggling through the sandy wastes..
“With a draft notice in their hands,” Canidy ordered. UT “And there, on top of the dunes, our hero…” Whittaker came in.