Clarke refilled our glasses. ‘We’ve a large and constantly expanding membership, Colonel Peterson. In certain States it has a preponderance of what they call “poor whites”. Doubtless you noticed there’s pressure on me to discipline folks who go a little too far in their enthusiasm. I’m reluctant. My answer is to strive with every means at my disposal to attract the better class of citizen who presently supports us in spirit but not in deed. To go forward as a real political power we have to win over that class and its finances. Do you follow me?’
‘Given the record of the Klan in handling strikes, I’m surprised you don’t have more large industrialists funding you already. Your interests are surely identical. It can only be bad press which makes them hesitate.’ I hoped this assessment seemed intelligent.
‘In a nutshell. Colonel Peterson.’ Mr Clarke clapped Major Sinclair on the shoulder. ‘You were right about this man, Al. I’m beholden to you.’ He turned to me again. ‘That’s why we want to sponsor you, colonel. To make a nationwide lecture tour. Every newspaper in every town you visited would report your words. I’ve read the Memphis papers. You have a fascinating reputation. You speak with authority as one daily exposed to the terror of unchecked alienism. Respectable, intelligent, well to do people would listen to you. A distinguished professor, with no axe to grind in American politics, your quiet support of the Klan could prove invaluable to us in our recruiting drive. We would propose to fund you indirectly. The fees would be generous and all travel accommodation and so forth would be first-class. The Klan can be an implacable enemy -’ he paused and I wondered if this were some sort of warning to me ‘- but it is a loyal friend.’
Naturally I was gratified. His offer could be of substantial use in improving my status. Sadly, I thought, it conflicted with my desire to oversee our Memphis aerodrome and aircraft scheme. Yet there were many advantages to forming an association with so powerful a political group. It could mean ultimate security for Esmé and me, perhaps the important government position I so much deserved. For this reason I did not refuse point-blank. ‘I’m flattered, sir. However, I have pressing business interests at present, so would be grateful for a few days to consider your proposal.’
The Imperial Wizard had already assumed I would need time. ‘Major Sinclair will be in Memphis for the next few days. He’ll be flying back to Atlanta in The Knight Hawk. You’re off to Little Rock tomorrow, aren’t you, Al?’
‘If the weather’s okay. I might make the whole trip at once. Whatever I decide I’ll be in Memphis for quite a while.’
Mr Clarke beamed. ‘So when you reach a decision, Colonel Peterson, simply inform Major Sinclair. He’ll convey the news to me at Klankrest, our Atlanta headquarters.’
‘I’ll be able to let you know shortly, sir.’ There was a strong, almost supernatural rapport between the three of us as we stood in that red, white and blue stateroom. Mr Clarke told Major Sinclair a story about ‘some Federal snooper’ who had ‘met with an accident’. If the tale was for my ears it was unnecessary. I already knew how the Klan punished spies and traitors and was thoroughly approving. At length we lifted our glasses in one last toast. ‘To America!’ Major Sinclair, the light of idealistic patriotism shining from his eyes, reminded me in stance and expression of those brave White Russian aristocrats who pledged their lives for Tsar and Christ in the fight against Bolshevism. Again I came close to tears. ‘To America,’ I said.
In the small hours of a bitter Memphis morning the Nathan B. Forrest steamed slowly towards the landing-stage. With Major Sinclair, I stood at the rail, watching the water turn the colour of mercury under a gradual dawn. During my time aboard I had made friends with leading Klansmen from every part of the country. We were all jubilant. The Klan had grown rapidly since 1920. There had hardly been time to draw breath. Many members scarcely realised how powerful they had become. An Indianapolis Kleagle had explained to me how the Klan had been forced to secrecy. The ‘Invisible Empire’ was formed in direct reaction to foreign-born groups with supranational loyalties and societies: Zionist, Knights of Columbia, anarchist, Sicilian Black Hand, Mormon, Tong. Mr Clarke had amplified this, if they openly declared their interests and ambitions so should we. In the interests of democracy we’re forced to adopt enemy methods until we have power in Washington. Then we’ll force ‘em into the open by Law. They’ll pay the price for all those years of hypocrisy and deceit, whether they’re voodoo cults in Louisiana or Catholics in Tammany Hall.’ Like me, he never lost sight of his moral goals, no matter how circuitous the route sometimes seemed.
Major Sinclair was in particularly good spirits as he drove me back to the Adler Apartments. Before I went inside, we shook hands warmly, standing together in that white sunrise. He said I had made a fine impression. He sincerely hoped I would choose to help the cause, his life’s work. I climbed the steps to my rooms, considering the notion of a worldwide Klan. I thought how much in common Greek Orthodoxy had with Protestantism. Both opposed Rome. Shoulder to shoulder the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan could defeat all the enemies of Christendom. In bed I dreamed of a future where the fight was won at last. Free men in a free world stripped off their masks; regalia now only to be worn on ceremonial occasions as distinguished Southerners still sometimes assumed the uniforms of the Confederacy. Then great shining cities would ascend to the heavens free forever from alien threat. I think I was also a little fearful. By accepting the invitation to board the Nathan B. Forrest I had actually taken an irretrievable step. From somewhere in the shadows the figure of Brodmann, grinning and mocking, wagged its finger, hinting at a subtle and unguessable revenge. I looked up to see the last of the cities departing. I had been marooned.
I slept only a few hours. I was thankful, in fact, to be awakened by a loud banging on my door. Stumbling in a hastily donned dressing-gown, I answered. It was Mr Roffy. ‘You’re sleeping late, colonel.’ His manner was disgruntled, almost impatient. He strode into the dark, curtained room and sat down in my armchair. Pulling aside drapes and shutters I was dazzled by unexpected sunshine. Meanwhile Mr Roffy smoothed his hair, adjusted his waistcoat, recovered his manners. ‘Forgive the intrusion. I have some tremendously good news, sir. I had to come straight round to let you know.’
I was surprised at the contrast between his appearance and his words. ‘Would you care for some coffee?’ I began to hunt for the can.
‘Thank you, I’ve already breakfasted. However, I’ll smoke if you’ve no objection.’ Lighting his large cigar he sucked like a starved baby at the breast. ‘Mr Gilpin had a wire this morning. Our strategy is working perfectly. We are within an ace of everyone signing at once - the Chamber of Commerce, the State legislature, all the way up to Congress. They’re calling this the “Memphis Experiment”, you know. The whole country’s going to be watching us. If it succeeds, Nashville’s ready to begin her own scheme, using our company as overall controller.’
I still could not equate this with his distracted and harassed manner. ‘When do we begin work?’ I asked.
‘Early June, if we get the land we want.’ He sighed deeply, perhaps to control himself, ‘It was our offer of $450,000 as security which turned the day for us. All we do now is put up the cash. Everything else will go ahead like clockwork. We’ll get our money back immediately, of course. Our profits will be a hundredfold within the first year. You’ve heard from Europe?’