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“Now, without a doubt, there are those with ulterior motives, perhaps even someone in this room”—he glanced at one of the men whom he’d earlier made uneasy with his eye contact; the bearded man now busied himself making notes from the blackboard—“but we have ways to weed them out. As my father, and, I’m sure, your fathers, too, said, ‘Good always overcomes evil.’”

He let that sink in, then continued:

“Now, knowing all I’ve told you here, and knowing what you’re learning here at the Sandbox, there should not be a doubt in your minds that you and I will be successful fighting for the freedom of our countries, for the freedom of our families.” He paused for dramatic effect, then, raising his voice, said, “We’re going to kick the living hell out of them and win this goddamn war!”

The crowd erupted with hoots and applause.

Canidy looked around the room, smiling.

Jesus, I think that I just may have pulled that off.

Or, as the case would be, I did it pooma.

When in doubt, always wave flag and family in their face.

Canidy glanced at his watch, then held up his hand as a wave good-bye.

“And with that, gentlemen, I have to go.”

There was more polite applause as the men got up from their seats.

Canidy walked over to Corvo.

“I’m sure I’ll be back sometime soon, Max,” he said. “Meantime, keep an eye out for what we discussed.”

Because I’m going to take over one of your teams for Sicily. And if I can turn an enemy agent here, so much the better.

“Will do, Dick,” Corvo said. He looked at the board, then added, “And thanks for this.”

As Scamporino walked up, Corvo said to him, “We need to save what’s on the board. Get a picture of it, huh? Or write it down…whatever.”

Scamporino nodded. He looked at Canidy and offered his hand.

“Thanks for that lesson. And, particularly, th

e pep talk. The men needed it more than I realized.”

“You’re welcome,” Canidy said, shaking his hand.

Scamporino turned to Darmstadter, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “See you soon, Hank. Take care.”

Then he left the room.

As Canidy started to follow Scamporino to the door, he glanced again at the charcoal scenes from the Bible.

Two thoughts struck him, both concerning his father, the Reverend Dr. George Crater Canidy, headmaster of St. Paul’s School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

First was that he knew that his father would know exactly what they were, right down to citing chapter and verse for each. His father was, of course, expert in such study.

Second, that he had just served as teacher to a class of students, just as his father had done for decades.

Dick Canidy loved his father dearly. Yet he wondered how his father would feel knowing that he was part of an organization using the facility that had once been a boarding school for Catholic boys—not unlike St. Paul’s and its sons of devout Episcopalians—for the training of spies and saboteurs and assassins.

“And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free,” Canidy suddenly remembered. From the Book of John—chapter 8, verse 32.

Like father, like son?

Don’t kid yourself, Dick.