40.

“We can’t ignore the threat,” Rickey said.

“I know.”

“We also can’t have Jack playing baseball in an armed camp. We are selling baseball, family entertainment; and we are selling him. People aren’t going to come watch him play if they think there will be gunfire, for God’s sake.”

“Can’t have cops showing,” Burke said.

“Perhaps we best not mention it.”

“The ballpark threat, no. But you need to cover his home. The first thing he’ll want to know is about protecting Rachel.”

“Perhaps we best not mention it to him.”

“Get somebody to watch out for Rachel,” Burke said.

“I can arrange for that, I believe.”

“Your word,” Burke said.

“You have it.”

“Good,” Burke said. “They said they’d shoot him during the doubleheader. That implies while he’s playing.”

“It would be a dramatic thing to do,” Rickey said.

“It would,” Burke said.

They both sat silently for a moment.

Then Burke said, “We both know, Mr. Rickey, that complete protection isn’t possible.”

Rickey nodded.

“I don’t want him hurt,” Rickey said.

Burke said, “It’s like the war, Mr. Rickey. All you can do is be ready and do what you can. We’ll have to tell Robinson.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

“Do you think that’s wise? He might be more comfortable, not knowing.”

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

“And if I instruct you not to?” Rickey said.

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

Rickey, his cigar clamped in his mouth, was studying Burke. His eyes narrowed.

“And if I fire you?”

Burke sat back a little in his chair. His voice was the same voice that he’d had since Rickey met him, flat, without emotion, not very loud.

“You do what you gotta do, Mr. Rickey. Fire me. Don’t fire me. I’m going to do what I’m gonna do, and I’m in this until it’s over.”

Rickey moved the cigar around without taking it from his mouth.

“Why?” he said.

Burke sat for a minute rubbing his palms together, looking at his hands, which were slightly distorted from prizefighting.

“All my life,” he said flatly, looking at his thickened hands, “I never done anything amounted to jack shit.”

“You were in the war,” Rickey said. “That was worth something.”

“That was me and ten thousand other guys going where they sent us, doing what they told us — which was to kill ten thousand Japs who went where they were sent and did what they were told.”

“Many consider you a hero, Burke.”

“I got shot to pieces on Bloody Ridge,” Burke said, “ ’cause that’s where they sent me. And that’s what they told me to do.”

“In defense of liberty,” Rickey said.

“Sure,” Burke said. “Probably was.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“Enough?” Burke said. “It’s a fucking Fourth of July speech, for which I got destroyed.”

“But Jackie?”

“Jackie’s my chance,” Burke said.

“For what?”

“Not to stay destroyed,” Burke said.

“And he amounts to a lot more than jack shit,” Rickey said.

Burke nodded.

“I think it will be best,” Rickey said, “if you tell him of the threat.”

“I’ll tell him,” Burke said.

“And no one else,” Rickey said. “It will remain our secret.”

“Sure.”

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