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sell me. You come to me with one man, Leon Czolgosz, and I’m starting to wonder if this is about nothing more than the act of fornication.”
    Hyde was considering the ash on his cigar. Norris sensed he was grappling with something. Hyde would be a good spy if he could only get rid of his conscience—but then without one he wouldn’t be able to get close to people like Czolgosz. The problem was, Hyde still half believed all that socialist crap.
    “What is it?” Norris said. “Tell me.”
    “He told me he has met Emma Goldman and Abraham Isaak—all the people in Chicago connected to
Free Society.”
    Norris put both elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Yes, your workers’ bible,” he said. “Emma Goldman often stays at Isaak’s house when she’s in Chicago. We don’t think he’s screwing her. Isaak has a wife and family, but with Emma you never know. How a woman who looks like that can get so many men in the sack, I don’t know. She must talk them into bed.”
    “Czolgosz says he saw her speak in Cleveland last spring.”
    “That would be the first week of May.” Hyde looked surprised. “We keep tabs.”
    “Czolgosz talks about her often.”
    “How?”
    “It’s like he’s made up his mind about something.”
    “And you think Goldman has something to do with this?”
    “I don’t know,” Hyde said. “It seems no one gives a speech like her.”
    “Red Emma is an ugly little Jew from Lithuania. Maybe she gets up on the stage and raises her skirts? Bends over for the crowd and spreads her fat legs?”
    “She believes marriage is a form of enslavement.”
    “Maybe she’s not so crazy after all.” Norris smiled, but Hyde didn’t. “What happened between Czolgosz and her?”
    “He said in Chicago they rode the train together. In Cleveland she gave him some reading material on the Haymarket martyrs.”
    “Martyrs,” Norris said. “You hang people for inciting violence that kills officers of the law and it makes them martyrs. That was Jesus’s role. The rest of them ought to be a message, an example of what you get when you break the law.” Norris finished his coffee and tucked his cigar case inside his coat. In his experience it was usually more effective to keep these meetings brief. “I can’t use this, Hyde. Two people discuss reading material? It’s not against the law. This is a free country, so they can complain about our government all they want.” He started to get out of the booth but then paused. “Jesus, I’m irritable today myself. Maybe I should pay a visit to one of Big Maud’s girls.”
    “Czolgosz wants to meet Goldman again.”
    “He told you that?” Norris stabbed his cigar out in the ashtray.
    Hyde nodded. “You and Czolgosz, you have something in common, you know?”
    “Really? What’s that?”
    “You are both obsessed with Emma Goldman.”
    “You got that right, comrade. I’d like to fuck her good.” Norris slid out of the booth and picked up his newspaper, letting the envelope drop out from its folded pages onto the table. “There’s something extra in there, like I promised. But you listen to me: don’t you lose Leon Czolgosz. Or Fred Nieman. Or whatever he goes by. Keep close to this one. And meet me here tomorrow morning.” Norris turned and walked toward the door.

    THE next time they went to Big Maud’s, Czolgosz decided against the whiskey.
    “I get it,” Hyde said.
    “Do you?”
    “Some don’t want to get liquored up,” Hyde said. “They can’t … you know.”
    Czolgosz stared at him, helpless.
    Hyde seemed to understand. “You want to have all your powers of concentration.”
    He went across the parlor to the Russian girl, Motka, and spoke to her a moment before bringing her to the bar. She was so petite compared to the other girls, with their heavy thighs and ample arms. There was a look of expectation on her face that frightened Czolgosz.
    “I thought you always went upstairs with her,” Czolgosz said to Hyde.
    “It’s