Worlds

27. Diary of an Ex-spy

4 December. Too brazen. Somebody got into my locked room today and left a note on my desk: Meet us at 8:00 p.m. Tues. usual place, tell B. My nerves are about to snap. Ten days left in the quarter, papers and exams piling up, and now this. I quit.

5 December. Lunch with Benny and told him I had had enough of James’s bunch and was pulling out. He had some good suggestions. Benny is in too deep to simply walk away. Not only the letters, but another thing he says he can’t tell me about. He says that he’s tempted to turn informer, go to the FBI with what he knows. But doesn’t think he knows enough to make it worth the risk, especially if what we fear about Katherine is true (he didn’t talk like this until we were out of the restaurant, walking through the park). He says that if worse comes to worst, a friend of his has a small farm in South Carolina, where he could hide. Shave off his beard, get new papers, start over. I told him I thought he should do it now. I think they’re capable of anything.

6 December. The meeting went smoothly. I followed Benny’s advice and tried not to let my anger or fear show. Very mundane: I was nearing the end of the quarter and academic work has to take precedence; then I would be traveling for more than two months. I would use that time to “order my priorities” for the rest of the year. That I’ll be in and out of New York the third quarter, on field trips to various cities and states, didn’t discourage James. He thought that might be useful.

7 December. I have a feeling I shouldn’t leave this cigarette-paper diary in storage with the rest of my things. If they can get into my room, they can get into my locker downstairs. I certainly can’t take it with me, crossing dozens of borders. I was going to ask Benny to keep it for me, but decided he doesn’t need any more trouble. I’ll hide it in the library, back where they keep the old bound periodicals. Time magazine, 100 years before my birthday.