The Fourth Estate

“Let’s see what you’ve got this time, old buddy,” Max said, confident he must win with two pairs, aces and jacks.

Armstrong turned over three fives. Max scowled as he watched his winnings return across the table. “Would you be willing to put real money in place of that big mouth of yours?” he asked.

“I just have,” said Dick, pocketing the money.

“No, I meant when it comes to Hahn.”

Dick said nothing.

“You’re full of chickenshit,” said Max, after Dick had remained silent for some time.

Dick placed the deck back on the table, looked across at his opponent and said coolly, “I’ll bet you a thousand dollars you can’t put Hahn out of business.”

Max put down his bottle and stared across the table as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “How long will you give me?”

“Six weeks.”

“No, that’s not long enough. Don’t forget I have to make it look as if it’s nothing to do with me. I’ll need at least six months.”

“I haven’t got six months,” said Armstrong. “I could always close down Der Telegraf in six weeks if you want to reverse the bet.”

“But Hahn’s running a far bigger operation than Arno Schultz,” said Max.

“I realize that. So I’ll give you three months.”

“Then I’d expect you to offer me odds.”

Once again, Armstrong pretended he needed time to consider the proposition. “Two to one,” he eventually said.

“Three to one and you’re on,” said Max.

“You’ve got a deal,” said Armstrong, and the two men leaned across the table and shook hands. The American captain then rose unsteadily from his chair, and walked over to a drawing of a scantily dressed woman adorning a calendar on the far wall. He lifted the pages until he reached October, removed a pen from his hip pocket, counted out loud and drew a large circle around the seventeenth. “That’ll be the day when I collect my thousand dollars,” he said.

“You haven’t a hope in hell,” said Armstrong. “I’ve met Hahn, and I can tell you he won’t be that easy to roll over.”

“Just watch me,” said Max as he returned to the table. “I’m going to do to Hahn exactly what the Germans failed to do.”

Max began to deal a new hand. For the next hour, Dick continued to win back most of what he had lost earlier in the evening. But when he left to return home just be

fore midnight, Max was still licking his lips.

* * *

When Dick came out of the bathroom the following morning he found Charlotte sitting up in bed wide awake.

“And what time did you get home last night?” she asked coldly, as he pulled open a drawer in search of a clean shirt.

“Twelve,” said Dick, “maybe one. I ate out so you didn’t have to worry about me.”

“I’d rather you came home at a civilized hour, and then perhaps we could eat one of the meals I prepare for you every night.”

“As I keep trying to tell you, everything I do is in your best interests.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t know what is in my best interests,” said Charlotte.

Dick studied her reflection in the mirror, but said nothing.

“If you’re never going to make the effort to get us out of this hellhole, perhaps the time has come for me to go back to Lyon.”