Soon, a non-disclosure agreement was drawn up, and Caddy made plans to come to New York to discuss how we might proceed. As it happened, his client—whose name he had not divulged as yet—would be in town in November for business. We could meet at the Harvard Club.
Then, hesitating slightly, Caddy added, “I can tell you that his name is Jack.”
“Jack?” I said. “You're serious?”
“Yes. It's also the name of his father, who raised him.”
It was beginning to sound like a page from a 60s thriller. The protagonist conveniently bore his famous father's nickname, just like the rake in Charles McCarry's spy novel Lucky Bastard—an alleged J.F.K. love child who, with the help of Soviet backers, makes a Manchurian Candidate–style run for the White House. In this instance the central figure would even turn out to be named Jack Worthington, evoking the name Oscar Wilde bestowed upon his classic character Jack Worthing, who concocts an alter ego and forges a double life in The Importance of Being Earnest.
When, I wondered, would the sultry blonde—or the stone-cold corpse—show up at the receptionist's desk?
~ from A Claim to Camelot ~
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