Super by Jim Lehrer

Author:Jim Lehrer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical - General, Murder, Mystery & Detective, Murder - Investigation, Travelers, Fiction, Fiction - General, American Historical Fiction, Mystery fiction, Historical, Passenger trains - United States, Crime, Passenger trains, General, United States, Super Chief (Express train)
ISBN: 9781400067633
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2010-04-20T21:01:50.471000+00:00

Truman and Browne had barely noticed the brief stop at St. Mark. They were working on their second cup of coffee in the Turquoise Room, advertised by the Santa Fe as the only private dining room on any train in America. A small room that seated twelve or so at various-sized tables that could be arranged to suit the crowd, it had turquoise-colored decor related to various birds and other Navajo signs and symbols. It was available to Super Chief passengers by reservation only, for intimate dinners and cocktail parties as well as special occasions such as breakfast served by an attentive waiter for a former president of the United States.

Jack Pryor, having delivered his prized possession, Harry Truman, to breakfast with a promise to return shortly, was gone in further search for both the sickly man and the man in dark.

And then, from out of a small Turquoise Room closet in which only a tiny man could have hidden, Dale Lawrence emerged, shabby and coughing as ever.

“Mr. President,” he said. “Please, sir. Hear me out. That’s all I ask.”

The attentive waiter had gone to fetch orange juice and a plate of small sweet rolls. A. C. Browne, sitting across from Truman, grabbed the table knife by his right hand.

Harry Truman made no movement or any sign of alarm. “All right, all right,” he said to Lawrence. “Sit down, say your piece and then leave Browne and me alone so we can have our breakfast.”

Lawrence, moving slowly as if in pain, grabbed a chair and drew it up to the table between Truman and Browne, who took his hand off the knife. Truman had not told Browne about the earlier incident with Lawrence, so he didn’t know what was going on—or why.

Lawrence opened his mouth to speak, but before he could he threw his right hand up to his mouth to muffle a cough.

Truman and Browne, almost as one on instinct, threw white linen napkins up over their own mouths and noses.

Truman said, “You need to see a doctor, not me. I don’t have the time or the inclination to argue with you or with anybody else about the atomic bomb, testing or anything else like it.”

Lawrence said, “What about those people downwind from the Nevada testing grounds?”

“What about ’em?”

“You and I are killing them, Mr. President.”

Browne picked up the knife again.

“History’s going to be awful to you, Harry S Truman,” Lawrence said, now able to speak barely above a whisper.

“Pleasing history was not my job as president. It was to end that awful war, save the lives of American people, build more bombs for the future, test them and move toward converting our nuclear program to peaceful power.”

“You unleashed the most horrific killing machine in history.”

“That’s right and I’m proud of it. End of discussion.”

Dale Lawrence, who seemed even smaller and weaker now than he did a few minutes ago, said, “I’m not talking just about the bombs that hit Japan, Mr. President. I’m talking about ‘Dirty Harry’ and many more like it.

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