Surprisingly, his exuberant concern made her smile. “I’m safe where I am.”
“Where’s that?”
“At the FBI office.”
“Of course.”
“If you can’t help me, then I need to go.”
“Wait a minute.” The silence seemed to last forever but was probably only a second or two. “I want to thank you for telling me about Allan. I should have behaved better that evening, and I’m sorry I didn’t. Seeing you again brought up…I’m sorry, Emmie. Truly sorry.”
“Me too.”
Before she could hang up, he made her promise to call anytime, day or night. She agreed, but her stomach and her heart were in turmoil. She wanted to believe he had nothing to do with the photograph. But it was difficult to reconcile the man on the phone with the man she’d met at the Hotel DeSoto.
Despite how he’d made her feel during their conversation—that he cared deeply about her—she had to face the fact that he was the most likely suspect on her list. If not him then who? And why?
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
At the first sign of Phillip regaining consciousness, Velvalee picked up her revolver and aimed it at him. Not that he was in any position to cause trouble. Once Isaac arrived at the Garden, he’d unceremoniously dumped the agent into a wheelbarrow and wheeled him to the greenhouse as if he were a bag of fertilizer. Now Phillip lay on a wooden pallet, his hands and feet tied with twine.
He groaned, attempted to lift his hand, then groaned again. He blinked his eyes a few times then slowly moved his head until he caught sight of Velvalee and her gun. “You don’t need that.” His voice sounded drowsy and out of sorts. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and closed his eyes again.
Velvalee wasn’t fooled. He was fully conscious and no doubt scheming a way to overpower her. She’d take every precaution short of killing him to ensure that didn’t happen.
“You won’t get away with this, you know.” His eyes were still closed, as if dragging himself out of the foggy depths he’d been in had taken all his strength. “The Bureau will be looking for us.”
“I suggest you pray they don’t find us unless you want Miss Marshall to experience a fatal accident.”
She expected him to threaten her in return—something especially inane such as Don’t you dare touch her—but his only response was to tense his jaw and clench his fist. Even those small gestures gratified her. His feelings for the duplicitous woman would be his undoing and Velvalee’s salvation. As long as he believed Eloise was in danger, he’d behave himself.
“Does Miss Marshall know you’re in love with her?”
“I’m not.”
Velvalee emitted a harsh laugh. “Perhaps that’s for the best. Especially since you’ll never see her again.”
“Why not?” He still seemed to struggle with his words, pausing between each one as if to catch his breath.
“Because you and I are going on a long trip.” Her pulse quickened when she said the words out loud, as if that made them even more true. The desire of her heart was almost within her grasp. Only one more hurdle, and they’d be on their way. “When we arrive at our destination, your head will be delivered to the emperor on a silver platter. I speak figuratively, of course. You will be interrogated, and if you don’t reveal the national secrets that you’re privy to, you’ll be tortured.”
“I don’t know,” he paused and took a deep breath, “national secrets.”
“Then your time would be well spent in making up a few. Though perhaps they’ll be content with learning the FBI’s investigative techniques. Its weaknesses.”
He clumsily rolled over to his side, so he faced away from her. It didn’t matter. She’d have many opportunities to goad him and torment him once they were on the boat to San Francisco. From there, they’d wait for the arrival of the submarine that would take them to a ship far out in the Pacific. Finally, they’d reach Japan, where Agent Phillip Clayton would be taken away, never to be seen or heard from again, while she took her rightful place in society. Perhaps she’d even marry again. Husband #4.
Could her future be any brighter?
Phillip seemed to be sleeping, and Velvalee rested the revolver in her lap. She too must have dozed off. Alerted by a sound outside the greenhouse, she startled awake and immediately glanced at her prisoner. He hadn’t changed his position on the pallet. She rose from the damp floor, stretching the kinks from her neck and back, then stood over him. His hands were still bound in front of him, his ankles still tied together. Dried blood caked above and behind his ear.
Footsteps shuffled along the pavestones leading to the greenhouse. Velvalee quietly made her way to the door, the gun by her side, and peered through the glass. Finally, Isaac had returned. “Tell me you have good news.”
“Arrangements have been made. I bring you a message.” He bowed as he handed her a slip of paper.
She grasped it from him and stared at the nonsensical letters. They were grouped in four blocks with each block consisting of nine letters in total. A three-square code.
“What does it say?”
“I cannot read it. I am only a messenger. More than that, I do not know.”
“Why didn’t whoever sent this just tell you so you could tell me?”
“I do not want to know.”
“Of all the…” Nothing for her to do now except decode the message. Fortunately, she had packed her guidebook. She flipped past the pages that had suggestions for the jargon code she used in her forged letters until she found the three-square key. Decoding the message required substituting one letter for another, but it wasn’t as simple as A=C, B=D, C=E or some similar pattern. These were random and took more time to work out. At least the message was short.
She wrote the decoded message on an empty page in the code book. Misty Blue at Bell Harbor Marina by four.
Velvalee returned to Phillip and poked his side with her foot. He groaned but didn’t move. She poked him harder. “Time to go, sleepyhead. Get up.”
“All right, all right.” His voice sounded stronger than it had earlier. Still, it seemed he took his sweet time sitting up. Isaac cut the twine around his ankles and helped him to his feet.
“You follow Itsuki,” she ordered, using Isaac’s true name, then waved her gun. “I’ll follow behind. No tricks.”
“No tricks,” Phillip repeated.
She nodded, and Isaac, carrying Velvalee’s suitcase, led the way to the door. When Phillip reached the threshold, he lost his balance and stumbled backward into Velvalee. She dropped both the gun and her handbag, which popped open. Loose bills fluttered to the floor as she grabbed at a table holding an assortment of ceramic and clay pots to steady herself. Phillip, cradling his head in his bound hands as if in agony, fell against the table and knocked it over. The pots clattered to the floor, and shards of ceramic and clay flew in all directions.
Cursing under her breath, Velvalee immediately fell to her knees to retrieve the gun and her money while Isaac stared at the cash. “Don’t move,” Velvalee ordered. “Nobody move.” Once the money was safely tucked away, she retrieved the gun from beneath a broken ceramic planter. She shoved it into Phillip’s side. “Get up. And don’t do anything like that again.”
He moaned as he struggled to stand. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t care. Not all bullet wounds are fatal, but all are unpleasant.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Phillip followed Isaac through the door, his gait still unsteady. Velvalee didn’t know if he was faking, but it didn’t matter. Isaac had come into the gardens through a rear entrance and parked his sedan in a small lot near the greenhouse. He hurried ahead of them and put Velvalee’s suitcase in the car’s backseat. “Later I will report the car as stolen,” he said. “I leave you now.”
Before Velvalee could protest, he made a quick bow then jogged away. The coward. Thankfully, she knew how to get to the marina.
Velvalee waved the gun at Phillip. “You drive.”
/>
“With my hands tied?”
“I’m sure you can manage.”
As they headed for the marina, Velvalee took comfort in overcoming another hurdle. Despite a few setbacks—such as Isaac running away like a frightened mouse—her bold plan was working. In a few days, all the unpleasantness she’d had to suffer would be behind her. Yes, the future was very bright indeed.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
A clatter of voices and footsteps filled the back hallway as the agents returned to the field office through the rear door. Eloise stood beside Rebecca as they filed into the conference room. Among them were Special Agent in Charge Ray Suran, Red Eckers, and Thomas Bolman from the Spokane office.
Suran stopped beside her. “I’m glad you’re still here. Come into my office. You too, Bolman. Rebecca, bring your pad.”
As soon as everyone was seated, Special Agent Suran closed the door. “I’ll make this as brief as possible. Turns out the restaurant where the rendezvous was to take place was closed. Had been for quite a while. No one showed up. As you know, we also had a team watching Isaac—his real name is Itsuki—Hirano’s house. The postman delivered the package, but Mr. Hirano never checked his mail. Turns out he managed to give us the slip. The house was empty.”
He gestured for Agent Bolman to pick up the story. “It took some time, but I finally tracked down our cabbie. He remembered Clayton and this doll lady because they looked so odd together. Her being so short and all. Said they didn’t say a word to each other the entire trip. He dropped them off near the corner of Renton and Fifty-Fifth Avenue South. I contacted the boss here, and we all met up there.”
“As soon as he told me the address,” Special Agent Suran said, “I knew where we needed to look.”
“You found Phillip?” Eloise asked, unable to hide her excitement. Or her anxiety. “Where is he?”
“We found where they’d taken him. To Kubota Garden. But they’d left before we got there.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’m hoping you can tell us.” Special Agent Suran pushed a slip of paper to her. “There’d been some kind of melee in the greenhouse. A knocked-over table and broken pottery. We found this beneath an overturned pot. Can you solve it?”
Eloise smoothed out the wrinkled paper. “It’s a three-square code. Four blocks. Not a very long message. Of course I can solve it.”
“We’ll leave you to it then.”
Rebecca handed Eloise her steno pad and followed the men from the room. Eloise created an alphabet key, then tapped her pencil on the desk as she whispered the order of frequency for single letters, “E T O A N.” A moment or two later, she switched to doubled letters and digraphs, tapping the beat with her pencil. “S S, E E, T T…T H, E R, O N, A N, R E…” The combinations didn’t help, so she returned to order frequency. I R S H D L
That was enough for her to decipher the code:
X Misty Blue at Bell Harbor Marina by four. YZ.
The first letter and last two letters were fillers, but the Misty Blue must be the name of a boat. Eloise glanced at the clock. It was past three thirty now. If Phillip was on that boat and it left the marina, how hard would it be to find him again? She started to take the message to Special Agent Suran then hesitated. What if he didn’t let her go with them? She couldn’t give him the chance to say no. All she needed was a little head start.
She quietly opened the office door and approached one of the typists in the secretarial pool. “I need to go to the ladies room.” She gave an awkward grin. “A little emergency if you know what I mean. Could you please take this to Special Agent Suran? It’s very important.”
“I’d be happy to.”
Eloise thanked her and hurried toward the front door. Once outside, she headed in the direction of the hotel where she was staying in hopes of finding a taxi along the route. A Chrysler Imperial passed her then pulled to the curb. Eloise slowed her pace. She hadn’t seen Shabby Man since he got off the train in Idaho, but what if he had somehow followed her here?
In a Chrysler?
That seemed unlikely, but a couple of months ago, she would have been skeptical that an unassuming antique doll collector was using jargon code to pass along information to the Japanese.
When the driver’s door opened, Eloise braced herself to run back to the field office. A man emerged and lifted his hand in greeting. Father.
“Can I give you a lift?” he asked as she neared the vehicle.
“I know where Phillip is.”
“Get in.”
She hurried to the passenger side and gave him the name of the marina. As he drove, she told him how an agent had found the message she’d decoded and her fear she’d be forced to stay behind at the field office. “I have to be there when they find Phillip.”
“I know.” He maneuvered a left turn and then a quick right. “You never were one to let life pass you by.”
The Bell Harbor Marina turned out to be only a few blocks from the FBI field office. Father parked the car then placed his hand on Eloise’s arm. “This woman who took Phillip knows who you are.”
“I’m not staying in the car.”
“I’m not asking you to. Let’s just do this smart.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver derringer. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“Yes. But I’m not very good.”
“No one’s asking you to be a sharpshooter. Only to protect yourself.” She took the shiny gun from him, surprised that something resembling a toy had such heft.
“Here’s the plan. I’ll locate the boat and you wait for my signal.”
“It’s almost four. They may be leaving soon.”
“We’re going to find him. I promise.”
She wanted to believe him. But how did one believe the promises of a father who promised to read the next chapter in a Hardy Boys mystery and then never came home? He must have seen the doubt in her eyes.
“I promise to do my best. Will you believe that?”
She nodded.
“Watch for me.” He got out of the car and strolled along the pier, admiring the boats as if he belonged there. “Act like you belong and everyone will think you do.” Her father seemed to be a natural at this spy game.
She stepped out of the car but stayed by the front fender until he returned, a broad smile on his face. “I found her. Beautiful lines but in need of repair.”
“Did you see Phillip?”
“I didn’t see anyone.” His eyes were drawn to the streets behind them. “Your friends are coming.”
She turned around in time to see two black Fords waiting for the light to turn. They’d be at the marina in less than a minute.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Save Phillip.”
“Then let’s go.”
The wooden cabin cruiser was white with faded blue trim and gave the appearance of an elegant lady past her prime. No one seemed to be on board.
“What now?” Eloise asked.
“We flush them out.”
“How?”
“By getting on board. Just don’t let anyone see you. And keep your ears open.”
They quietly slipped onto the bow and knelt below the cabin window. Father motioned for Eloise to stay put, then he stood and rounded the cabin to the stern while singing a rousing rendition of “O Danny Boy” at the top of his lungs. It seemed an odd song choice. Definitely unpredictable…just like her father.
A few seconds later, someone joined him on the deck, and the singing stopped. Eloise couldn’t make out all the words, but it seemed her father wanted to buy the boat at top dollar.
She crept toward the stern in the narrow space between the rail and the cabin. From her vantage point, she watched in awe as Father put one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders and waved the other in a wide arc as if to encompass the entire bay. The man struggled to get out of Father’s grip, a tussle ensued, and seconds later the man went headfirst over the back of the boat. Father’s shouted apolog
y was nearly drowned out by the huge splash.
“What’s going on here?” Velvalee Dickinson’s voice shrieked.
“My dear lady, was that your husband?” Father said. “We were haggling on a price for this boat when he must have had a sudden whim for a swim. Over he went.”
“This boat is not for sale. Go away.” She appeared in Eloise’s line of sight on her way to the stern. “Get back on this boat,” she shouted to the man. “We need to be on our way.”
While her attention was on the man, Father motioned for Eloise to slip into the cabin. As soon as she was down the stairs, he closed the door after her. She held the derringer at the ready, but no one was in the galley. Two doors opened off a tiny passageway. The room on the left, containing only a narrow bed and a square nightstand, was empty. She peeked in the other room then covered her mouth to stop from squealing with joy.
Phillip sat upright on the bed with his hands bound and a white bandage wrapped around his head. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Humphrey Bogart at a time like this?”
“It’s always a good time for Bogey.”
She placed the derringer on the nightstand and tried to undo the knots on the rope around his hands. “What happened to your head?”
“A little misunderstanding.” He stared at her, his eyes soft and questioning. “How did you get here?”
“We need to hurry.” The knots came undone, and she unwrapped the ropes to free his hands. “My father is on deck with Velvalee. Special Agent Suran is here too. That is, he’s on his way.”
Phillip slid his hand down her arm to entangle her fingers with his. “Hold on a minute.”
“What is it?”
“I thought I’d never see you again. But here we are, together. The future…who knows what will happen. I only know I want to be with you for whatever time we have.” He caressed her cheek and tears welled behind her eyes. When he disappeared, she had stopped denying the truth that was in her heart.
“If you ask me,” she said, “I will wait for you. However long this war lasts.”
The Cryptographer's Dilemma Page 26