Free Operation Solo by John Barron

thinking far ahead. Once Jack spoke with him, he would start thinking about the ramifications of collaboration; still, he would want more time.
    When Freyman called and asked to see him, Morris said, “I’m not in the movement any more. I have no contacts. But if you want to talk to me, come on over.”
    Frail, bedridden, scarcely able to raise his head, Morris looked pitiful, and Freyman realized he mustn’t stay long. He began by saying that through his work he had come to know Morris as a man of character and intellect who had sacrificed most of his life
to a cause. Freyman wondered aloud whether the sacrifice was worthwhile, and he would be grateful if Morris considered a few questions. Had not Stalin betrayed all the ideals of Marxism? Had not communism exterminated millions of innocent men, women, and children? Was it not so that Soviet and Nazi persecution of Jews differed only in method and scope? Which did he think most benefited individual human beings and the world, Soviet communism or American democracy?
    â€œWe both know the answers,” Morris said.
    â€œHow could a good and decent man serve such a cause?”
    â€œWhen you’re in the movement, you learn to close your mind to anything that might erode your faith. You cannot allow yourself to ask, is this right or wrong.”
    â€œYou said you’re not in the movement anymore.”
    â€œNo, I’m not.”
    â€œThen you can ask.”
    â€œI suppose so.”
    Suddenly, Morris paled and took a dose of nitroglycerin. Freyman rose, apologized for overly imposing and asked if they could talk again.
    â€œCome whenever you wish. I don’t go anywhere these days.”
    Freyman knew that Morris was so attached to and dependent upon his benefactor Sonny Schlossberg that he would not cooperate without her assent. As she ushered him to the door, he paused to talk and casually asked her what she now thought about communism.
    â€œI hate it. I hate it for what it’s done to Morris, to Jews, to everybody.”
    â€œIn that case, will you help us?”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?”
    â€œHelp us persuade Morris.”
    â€œAll right.”
    Only two people from the party ever visited Morris after Sonny brought him back to Chicago. He occupied himself by reading—the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, John Locke, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and all the works of his favorite author, Thomas Mann. Pleasureful as reading was, he was lonely and increasingly he looked forward to visits by Freyman, whom he liked.

    Morris said he knew nothing about where Hall, Thompson, Gates, and Green might be hiding, and he reiterated that he had no contacts in the party.
    â€œYou mean you have no current contacts,” Freyman remarked. “You have many friends. With our help, you easily could renew contact with them.”
    â€œMy God, man. I’m not physically able.”
    â€œThe first thing we’re going to do is improve your health. Later we’ll set you up in a cover business so you can travel and have a visible source of income. But we’re not going to do anything until we get you well.”
    Sonny again urged him to work with the FBI and pledged to stand by him if he did. Finally, Morris decided. “All right, I’ll do as much for you as I can.”
    Freyman had no authorization to commit the FBI to pay for the expensive medical treatment of someone who had performed no services and might not live long enough to perform any. On the spot, he exercised his own judgment and initiative, hoping his superiors would agree. Once they did, through FBI friends in the medical profession he assembled a team of outstanding cardiologists to treat Morris as long as needed at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.
    A question arose: How could Morris explain where he got the money to pay for the costly treatment? In New York, Jack gave Burlinson the answer.
    â€œI’ll go to people all over