“Oh, it works,” said Clay. “Look at Latvia and Lithuania and Estonia. The Congo. French Indochina. Cuba. The pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place, just like Lenin said they would. It’s a war on two fronts-at home and abroad. Khrushchev said America will fall like overripe fruit into their hands. Have you read Das Kapital?”

“Too busy at the tire shop,” said Karl.

“Some of us work for a living,” said Nick.

Clay shook his head as if he’d anticipated this answer. He turned to Eileen, his new friend from the language institute.

“Clay’s gotten passionate about the Communist conspiracy,” she said. “He’s certainly informed. And I think there’s something to it.”

“I do, too,” said Max Becker. “What language do you study, Eileen?”

“I have French, German, and Spanish now,” she said. “What the government wants most is Russian and Arabic. I’m good at pronunciation and vocabulary but the rules of grammar throw me because they change by the language. Clay’s the one with a mind for lingual structures.”

“And a tin ear for the music of them.”

“No,” she said. “Really, Clay-your French and German are superb and your Russian is coming along beautifully.”

“Russian for you, too, Clay?” asked Katy.

Clay nodded, sipped his wine. “Mandatory.”

“What will you do with it?” asked Meredith.

“The government,” said Eileen. “You know-State Department, Foreign Service, Diplomatic Corps-even military. Wherever they might need you.”

Andy knew that Clay was already being paid by the government to finish his studies at the language institute. The whole family knew, and it had been a day of quiet celebration when news of Clay’s acceptance to the institute arrived by special delivery. Roger Stoltz had helped expedite the application through his friendship with Dick Nixon.

Later Clay had told Andy it was a CIA “scholarship.” He had no way of proving it but Andy believed him.