"The Klan are here, too." Hartmann shook his head. "There's potential for a serious confrontation. The crackpot right likes that kind of thing-it gives them publicity."

"Lucky thing the Turtle is here."

"Yes." Hartmann gave him a look. "You've never met the Turtle, have you?"

Jack held up a hand. "Please." He smiled to cover his nervousness. "Let's keep it down to one reconciliation a day, okay?"

Hartmann knit his brows. "Is there a problem between you?"

Jack shrugged. "Not that I know of. I just… sort of assume there would be."

Hartmann stepped toward Jack, put a hand on his shoulder. There was concern in his eyes.

"You assume too much, Jack. You think everyone's got a chip on his shoulder about your past, and it's just not true. You've got to let down the defenses, let people get to know you."

Jack stared at the coffee swirling in his cup and thought about Earl Sanderson spiraling to a crash landing at his feet. "Okay, Gregg," he said, "I'll try."

"You're important to this campaign, Jack. You're head of the California delegation. I wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't suited for the job."

"You could get some heat on account of me. I've told you that. "

"You're important, Jack. You're a symbol of something bad that happened a long time ago, something we're trying to prevent from happening again. The other Four Aces were victims, but so were you. They paid with prison or exile or their lives, but you…" Hartmann gave his boyish, halfapologetic smile. "Maybe you paid with your self-respect. Who's to say that isn't worth more in the long run? Their agony ended, but yours hasn't. I think it all balanced long ago, that everyone's paid too much." He squeezed Jack's shoulder. "We need you. You're important to us. I'm glad you're aboard."