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“According to our labs,” Hoover began in an officious tone, “the residue taken from the crime scenes at the train terminals in Florida and Georgia and from the electrical transformer stations in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland tested to be from the same family of explosive: cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine.”

“In layman’s terms?” the President said, puffing deeply on his cigarette.

“The Germans call it hexogen—” Donovan offered, earning him a glare from Hoover.

He now had Roosevelt’s attention, and finished, “—the Brits call their version Royal Demolition Explosive, or RDX. Here it’s just cyclonite. Very common. Very effective.”

Roosevelt looked back at Hoover.

“So,” the President went on, “then all of the East Coast attacks can be linked?”

“Well, as Bill says, it is a very common compound—”

“You’re telling me that you don’t know, Edgar?” the President interrupted.

“No, sir, not that I don’t know. I’m telling you that it’s possible—if not likely—that some of these attacks could be sympathetic ones.”

“Sympathetic?”

“Copycats,” Hoover explained. “People who either have some ax to grind with America—or your politics, sir—or who simply like seeing things go boom and the public’s reaction.”

Roosevelt considered that a moment.

“What about the German pistol that was found in Atlanta?”

Hoover nodded. “We do have that. And we have had it tested for ballistics and we pulled the fingerprints. Right now, the prints are being run, but so far there has been no conclusive match.”

The President looked off across the room as he thought that over.

Hoover added, “Mr. President, if you’re wondering if the pistol is the key clue that these are German agents responsible, know that there could be thousands of Walther PPKs in the United States, ones imported before the war. It is not an uncommon firearm, despite being of German manufacture. We simply do not have enough evidence to determine beyond any doubt that this is all the work of German agents.”

The President looked at Hoover. “What about Dallas? What have we found out from there?”

“We do not have those details yet, sir,” Hoover began. “As you know, the explosions at the department store and train station took place just last night—”

“Of course I know!” the President interrupted, his voice rising. He pointed at a copy of the Washington Star that was on a side table. “The whole damned country knows.”

“Yessir,” Hoover replied softly but evenly. “Mr. President, please understand that I have every man available on this. We will have answers. And we will get those responsible.”

Roosevelt suddenly made a toothy grin behind his cigarette holder.

“Just as you did the first ones?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Hoover began strongly, but then his voice faded as he finished, “Mr. President.”

Roosevelt knew that the capture of the German agents had absolutely nothing to do with the FBI’s ability to root out foreign agents on U.S. soil and bring them to justice.

What had happened in June 1942 was that German U-boats in OPERATION PASTORIUS deposited eight agents trained in sabotage onto the shores of the United States, four on New York’s Long Island and four near Jacksonville, Florida.

The ones in Florida infiltrated with no problem.

The four in New York, however, were almost immediately discovered by a coastguardsman walking the seashore. They told him that they were fishermen, gave him a cash bribe, and he left—to alert his superiors.

A manhunt for the agents began on Long Island, but too late, and the agents were able to board the Long Island Railroad and make it into the city.

That they had managed to get that far was not good enough for one of the agents. George Dasch was having serious doubts about his role in the mission, as well as its overall success, and in the hotel room that he shared with another agent, Ernest Burger, he convinced Burger that they should give themselves up.

The two took a train to Washington, and at the Mayflower Hotel—blocks from the White House—they called the FBI. They asked to speak with J. Edgar Hoover.