A flash of blue sparkled on Clyde’s hand. Clyde excelled in all the pretentions of the newly rich, so a pinky ring shouldn’t be a surprise, but Luke couldn’t resist a little mockery.
“Nice ring,” he said. “Very classy. Then again, I’ve always said you can spot a Magruder a mile away by their vulgar jewelry and the gilt paint they slap on everything.”
“Would you care to make more insults about my family?” Clyde said. “I’m not due in Congress for another hour, so please. Let it all out, Luke. Perhaps it would do you good to get rid of some of that bile.”
“And as a Magruder, you know all about bile.” Luke opened his top desk drawer and tossed a can of Magruder’s potted ham at Clyde. “My brother had a chemist dissect this. It’s eighty percent ham and ten percent beef tallow. We couldn’t figure out what the rest of it was. Mind helping us out?”
Clyde tossed the can back to him. “It’s a moneymaker that bought me a summer house in Maine. Do you mind telling me about this?”
Clyde set a slip of paper on his desk. It was the card that accompanied the roses Luke had sent to Marianne. He hadn’t known who she was when he sent them, or he wouldn’t have done it. He hoped it hadn’t landed her in trouble.
He used a single finger to slide the card back toward Clyde. “It’s nothing.”
“Any time you tamper with my daughter, it’s something,” Clyde said, his voice lethally calm. “I saw the photograph of you with my grandson’s dog. I’m giving you only one warning. Stay away from my family. If you want to lob your nasty assaults at me, have at it, but if you ever touch my daughter, there won’t be enough of you left to mop off the ground.”
He grabbed the can of potted ham and threw it at the window, shattering the glass as the can arced outside. Clyde left the office without another word, slamming the door so hard that the glass in the door’s window broke too.
Luke’s hands clenched. He really hoped Marianne hadn’t caught grief for those roses. He hadn’t known who she was! He wouldn’t have gone within ten yards of her if he’d known she was Clyde’s daughter.
He fought to rein in his breathing as he strolled to the window, the glass shards crunching beneath his boots. The can of ham had fallen harmlessly to the street below, which was a blessing, since they were on the fourth floor and there could have been people beneath the window. Clyde’s act was a typical low-class Magruder tantrum.
Cold wind blew into the office. Luke would have to hire a glazier to repair both the window and the door, but in the meantime, he had work to do.
Clyde’s visit was like waving a red flag before a bull. Every instinct cried out for Luke to go find Marianne and start courting her in earnest. He could shower her with gifts and compliments and charm her until she was breathless. Two years ago that was exactly what he would have done in response to Clyde’s threat.
But his time locked in a Cuban jail cell had taught him a great deal. He had been taught patience and wisdom. He would do nothing to hurt Marianne, but he would double his fire at Clyde. The man had to be removed from Congress.
Luke swallowed back his anger and thought strategically. He cut another slice of strudel and made himself eat. There were so many reasons he wanted a front-row seat in the government’s study of poisonous food additives, but at the top of the list was a chance to personally strike a body blow against Clyde Magruder.
The advertisement calling for medical volunteers instructed men to apply at the Department of Agriculture beginning at nine o’clock. Applicants would be required to pass a physical exam and fall within the acceptable weight range for their height. Luke was still seven pounds underweight, but a gallon of water weighed eight pounds. He could fake it. He’d already drunk a quart of water but felt so bloated he didn’t know if he could get the rest of it down. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to, because there probably wouldn’t be many volunteers.
Slinging the jug of water over his shoulder, he meandered toward the Department of Agriculture, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. Winter was such a dicey time in Washington. Sometimes it was a frosty misery, but today he barely needed a coat.
As he rounded the corner, he was stunned to see dozens of men lined up outside the Department of Agriculture. Who were all these people? The line snaked down the steps and around the front of the building. Luke approached the last man in the line.
“What’s everyone waiting for?”
“Free room and board!” the man said. He held out a copy of the advertisement for the experiment. “All we need to do is pass a physical and agree to eat all our meals here. The doors open at nine o’clock.”
Luke scanned the crowd of young healthy men. There had to be over a hundred people in this line, and the department was only taking a dozen volunteers.
Luke uncorked the jug of water and began drinking. He was going to have to get the whole gallon down, and fast. It was going to take some quick thinking to convince the test administrators that he was as healthy as the other men in this line, but Luke had always been good at quick thinking.
By ten o’clock all the men had filled out basic forms to apply for the research study, then were ushered into the room where a doctor would make the first round of cuts. Luke reluctantly followed instructions to shuck off his heavy winter coat and boots before stepping on the scale. Nature was calling, but he couldn’t use the restroom until after he’d been weighed. A doctor and a nurse were doing the preliminary screen, weighing the men, shining a light into their eyes, a tongue depressor down their throats, and banging a hammer on their knees.
“We’re all insane for being here,” a tall volunteer with curly blond hair said. “They should probably use that hammer on our heads.”
“My head is harder,” a man beside him said. They looked so much alike that they had to be brothers.
“But mine is bigger,” the other replied.
“Yeah, but Mom still loves me the most.”
The two brothers kept up a nonstop stream of competitive banter all morning. When the doctor complimented the taller brother for how fast his eyes dilated, the other begged to be tested so he could dilate faster. They gave their names as Ted and Bradley Rollins, two brothers currently attending Georgetown University who rowed crew for the college. Luke simply thought of them as Big Rollins and Little Rollins. They were eager to flex their muscles for the fresh-faced nurse who seemed charmed as they argued about who had better grades, who had more muscle, and who could hold their breath longer. Big Rollins began boasting about the five-minute mile he’d run last weekend.
“Five minutes? That’s nothing,” the man next to Luke said. He had a lanky, athletic build and floppy dark hair. “I can run a five-minute mile with hurdles in the mix.”
“I don’t believe it,” Little Rollins said.
The lanky man offered a hand. “I’m Wesley Sparks, fourth place finisher in the Paris Olympics hurdle race in 1900.”
“Ouch, fourth place,” Little Rollins said.
“I know!” Wesley replied. “Do you know what coming in fourth place in the Olympics does to a man? Do you?”
“Let me guess,” Nurse Hollister said. “It makes you want to enroll in risky tests of human endurance.”