by CW Hawes
A short distance from the bottom of the stairway, I saw Klara and Dunyasha waiting. I bounded down the stairs and ran to Dunyasha. We hugged and kissed and held hands.
“Oh, Dunyasha, I’m so glad you decided to come with us,” I said.
Karl and Branson joined the little group.
Dunyasha said, “I almost didn’t, but this one–,” she hooked a thumb in Klara’s direction, “was most persuasive. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”
I laughed. “So you decided to join us just to play mother hen.”
“Someone has to. You get yourself into the damnedest predicaments. Doesn’t she, Karl?”
Karl smiled. “That she does. Sir Galahad would have to put in overtime.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not that prone to stumbling into dire straits.”
Klara flashed an impish grin. “I do keep notes, my lady.”
“Klara! I pay you to be on my side.” I gave her a hug and added, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Now you know why I don’t have a secretary,” Dunyasha said. “Come. My car is here. Let’s get something to eat before this gas bag takes off.”
“I hope you brought something other than your baby,” I said.
“The Talbot?” She replied.
I nodded.
“Of course. I brought the Silver Arrow. Who’s this fellow with you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, “how rude of me. Dunyasha, this is Jake Branson. Mr Branson, this is Dunyasha. The Baroness Bobrinsky.”
Dunyasha stuck out her hand. “Hello, Jake. This is America. Forget the baroness b.s.”
Branson was laughing. He took her hand and said, “A pleasure, Ma’am.”
“And forget the ‘Ma’am’ crap, too. Call me “Dunyasha’.”
“Very well. A pleasure, Dunyasha,” Branson said.
Dunyasha gave Branson a charming smile. “There. That’s better. Well, let’s go. We should all fit.”
“I’m sorry,” Branson said, “I’ll have to take a rain check. I have some things I need to check on before we depart.”
“That is too bad,” Dunyasha said with a pout. “Well, I’ll just have to get to know you on board the ship.” This last sentence had a sultry, Lauren Bacall, quality to it.
Branson smiled. “Plenty of time for that.”
Our Man Friday took off for one of the buildings and we followed Dunyasha to her motor, which is a beautiful machine. Silver paint shining in the sunlight. Rounded wings, roof, and boot. A slanted grill of shiny chrome. Undoubtedly very expensive. To my surprise, she had a driver.
“You didn’t drive?” I asked.
“Of course I did,” she replied. “Harold, here, is along to drive the car back. He’ll also drive us to the restaurant because I want to sit next to you, Little Kitten. Karl, you can sit in the front. We girls will share the back.”
Karl just shook his head, smiled, and got in the front passenger seat.
Harold drove us to a small family-style diner, not far from the airship. When I saw the restaurant, my face must’ve registered surprise because a look of confusion showed on Dunyasha’s face.
“I picked this place for you, Dru. I thought you liked these little diners.”
“I do, but–”
With a sheepish grin, Klara said, “Actually, Lady Bobrinsky, I’m the one who really likes to eat at the diners. They always have such good hamburgers.”
Dunyasha and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Karl came to her rescue. “I’m with you, Klara. You always get good, honest food at these places. Nothing fancy. Just good home cooking.”
We piled into the diner and took over a booth. A waitress brought us menus and four glasses of water.
“Can I get you anything right away?” She asked.
Karl asked for coffee with cream and sugar. We girls asked for tea. The waitress left.
Everyone picked up their menu and began reading. Dunyasha lit a cigarette. She was also wrinkling her nose.
“Something the matter?” I asked.
“I guess not,” she replied, then asked, “Can they ruin a steak at a place like this?”
Karl answered and, while it didn’t show, I could tell a smile was just being suppressed. “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare.”
“You’ll probably be fine. You might get it medium. It won’t be burned, at least not usually.”
Dunyasha closed the menu. “I’m ready,” she announced, took a drag on her cigarette, inhaled the smoke, and then exhaled a great white plume towards the ceiling.
Seeing the menus closed, the waitress came back to our table. Klara ordered a bacon cheeseburger platter and I, a mushroom burger platter. Dunyasha ordered a sirloin steak dinner and Karl opted for a hot roast beef sandwich and a pile of mashed potatoes, all smothered in gravy.
“So tell me,” Dunyasha began, “what exactly are we going to Georgia for?”
Karl explained our mission to her and Klara. When he was done, Dunyasha was left shaking her head.
“I think salmon fishing in the Sahara would be easier than this mission. We’re going to look for a magical and mythical sheepskin in a place where even the people protecting us are the enemy. Goddamn it, Dru. Why aren’t you satisfied with shopping for a new hat?”
“You only live once, Dunyasha. If this thing is real and not just a myth, it would be a bigger find than the Dead Sea Scrolls. And Karl and I might get a nice big book contract out of it.”
“Perhaps all that is true. None of it will do you any good if you get your ass shot off,” she replied.
“I suppose not. We’ll just have to be careful.”
“Huh. All for a book and some money.”
Her skeptical look was interrupted by the waitress bringing our food. The look returned when she cut into her steak. Although seeing it qualified as medium rare, the look disappeared and our waitress, assuming everything was to our satisfaction, departed.
We began eating and Klara said, “Oh, dear, I forgot. You received a telegram, my lady, two days ago. It was marked ‘urgent’.” She opened her purse, rummaged around, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me.
I took a look at the sender’s name and my hand went to my mouth.
“What is it, Dru?” Karl and Dunyasha said at the same time.
Klara said, “You are as white as a sheet, my lady.”
“The telegram is from Vlad,” I said.
“Oh my God!” Dunyasha exclaimed.
“Who’s ‘Vlad’?” Karl asked.
“Count Neratoff,” I said.
Klara blanched.
“Oh. Him,” was Karl’s response.
“What does it say, Dru?” Dunyasha asked.
“The message is very short. ‘We know of your mission. Do not make the attempt. Repeat. Do not make the attempt, if you value your life.’ That’s it.”
“He has a spy somewhere very close to Hall,” Karl said.
Dunyasha nodded in agreement and added, “I’m not surprised. Hall Media has a very long reach. To put a spy where he or she can monitor that reach would be advantageous for the Czarists.”
“Karl,” I said, “you need to apprise Mr Hall of this right away.”
Pointing, Klara said, “There’s a pay phone over there on the wall.”
Karl paused for a moment. “Yes, I think I’ll phone. I was contemplating sending a radio message. A phone call, though, might be better. Thank you, Klara.” He got up, went to the phone, put in coins, and placed the call. He returned in a few minutes.
“Hall wasn’t available. I left a message.”
“Is that safe?” Dunyasha asked.
“Code. Only Hall knows,” Karl replied.
“Just like a spy organization,” Dunyasha said with a smile.
“Better,” I replied. “Nothing stops a journalist if he or she has a chance for a scoop. And nothing is safe, either.”
Dunyasha laughed. “I see.”
>
Our conversation shifted to McCarthy and his Senate hearings on Communism and Eisenhower’s Domino Theory.
“If the Soviet Union falls,” Karl said, “I think Joe McCarthy will run out of gas. Rather difficult to find a Communist under every bed and rock if the Soviet Union is gone.”
Dunyasha replied, “Just because the Soviet Union disappears doesn’t mean Communism does. It is a virulent and pestilent disease.”
“Now you are sounding like Uncle Adolf,” I teased.
Dunyasha wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care for the Nazis, however they understand the danger of Communism. I don’t care for Senator McCarthy either. He does, though, realize the danger Communism poses to the world.”
“Yes, but this anti-Communist hysteria McCarthy is generating can’t be good either,” Karl said.
“I agree,” Dunyasha replied. “Although to be complacent is to court trouble. I am thankful I escaped. Many of my family were not so lucky. Mr Orwell’s 1984 is enough. You don’t want to actually live it.”
“If the Soviet Union collapses, what does that do to the Domino Theory?” I asked. “Doesn’t it render it moot?”
“Probably,” Karl agreed.
“I don’t think so,” Dunyasha said. “Communism is still infecting the world. There is Mao in China. Just because he and Chiang Kai-shek are fighting the Japanese, doesn’t mean he isn’t maneuvering to force out the Nationalists when an opportunity rises. Communism is the world’s cancer and it must be rooted out.”
Karl chuckled. “You sound like McCarthy, Baroness.”
Dunyasha was piqued, “My family and others of the aristocracy as well as the royal family were slaughtered by the Communists, Mr Weidner. It is not a laughing matter.”
“I apologize,” Karl said. “My comment was insensitive.”
Dunyasha glared at him for a moment and then her face softened. “Apology accepted.”
During the remainder of our meal, we talked about about less inflammatory subjects. The waitress came by to collect our empty plates. While doing so, she asked if we wanted dessert. We hemmed and hawed until Klara said she would like dessert. Karl got more coffee and a slice of apple pie. Klara got a slice of cheesecake, as did Dunyasha. I got a raspberry sundae. We girls got refills on our tea.
Dunyasha said, “Does Mr Hall truly believe the government will let him keep the fleece if it turns out to be the real thing?”
“Mr Hall is a powerful man,” Karl replied. “His media empire has made and broken many a politician. You don’t want him for an enemy.”
Dunyasha was dismissive. “You said he’s dying. No one who is dying is powerful. That torch passes to the one waiting in the wings.”
Karl shrugged. “He’s not dead yet.”
I looked at my watch. “The time is three o’clock. Do we want to head back to the airship?”
The consensus was we did. Dunyasha left two twenty dollar bills on the table, which would have paid for another eight meals easily, and we made our way out to the street where the Pierce Silver Arrow was parked. We piled in, Karl in the front, women in the back. Dunyasha and I lit cigarettes and she held my hand on the drive back to the airfield.
I know she would like me to be her lover. She is a very beautiful woman. Shoulder length wavy dark blond hair accents her oval face. Grey eyes. Her fair complexion is perfect. Her body is well proportioned. Anyone would be interested. I’ve made it clear, however, Karl has my heart and though I am incredibly fond of her, and, yes, I can even say I love her, I am committed to my soulmate. I have contemplated what I would do, how I would respond if Karl were not in the picture. At this point, however, I cannot bring myself to embrace Sappho. Dunyasha’s and my relationship will have to be, at best, a romantic friendship.
At the airfield, we left the car and made our way to the Argo. None of the other passengers were around.
“Are we assigned cabins?” Dunyasha asked.
“No,” I answered, “except the last four are reserved for Jake Branson and the military contingent coming on board. Karl and Doctor Franzen are in Cabin Six. Doctor Elise Rodman is in Number One and I’m in Number Seven.”
“How are the cabins numbered, my lady?” Klara asked me.
“One through five on the starboard side and six through ten on the port.”
Klara looked confused.
I explained, “When you face the bow, the front of the ship, starboard is on your right and port is on your left.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“What cabins are vacant?” Dunyasha asked.
“Numbers two, three, and eight,” I said.
After a moment’s thought, Dunyasha announced, “I’ll share with Dru. Klara, you take Cabin Two.”
“Are you sure, my lady?” Klara asked.
“Of course, I’m sure. Dru’s my best friend. I want to share her cabin,” Dunyasha declared.
“And what the Baroness Bobrinsky wants, the Baroness Bobrinsky gets,” I said with a smile.
“Hardly that, Dru. Now I wonder where the stewards put our luggage?” Dunyasha summoned a steward, pressing the button on the wall. No one had told her what it was for. Aristocrats must instinctively know these things.
Alan Sykes appeared. “May I help you?” He asked.
“Yes. Make sure Miss Klopov’s luggage is in Cabin Two and mine is in Number Seven. I’ll be sharing with Lady Hurley-Drummond.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Sykes replied and disappeared into the passenger section of the gondola.
“Not very big, is she?” Dunyasha said, looking around the lounge.
“Not by today’s standards,” Karl said. “When she was built, back in the twenties, she was the cat’s meow. The largest thing in the air.”
Sykes returned and announced the luggage had been moved. “Anything else?” He inquired.
Dunyasha said, “no”, and he departed.
Continuing our conversation, I said, “I think Mr Hall has done a marvelous job re-fitting her.”
Dunyasha shrugged and didn’t say anything. She took out a cigarette.
“No smoking,” I said.
“What the hell?” was her reply.
“Hydrogen,” I said. “The ship is inflated with hydrogen.”
“Well, I’ll be goddamned. No smoking lounge?”
I shook my head.
“I have to go without a cigarette all the way to Georgia?”
I said, “I can’t smoke either.”
“Huh. At least the two grumpies are sharing the same cabin. They better have plenty of booze on board.”
With a smile on his face, Karl said, “Mr Hall’s seen to that.”
“Good.” Dunyasha turned to me and said, “Since it’s still early, let’s go have a smoke. Then we’ll come back and get drunk.”
“I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a long flight,” I said.
Karl and Klara burst out laughing.
Dunyasha said, “Get your ass down that stairway, Dru. We have to smoke before this gas bag takes off.”
Dunyasha and I left Karl and Klara wiping the tears from their eyes.
She and I went for a walk, smoked cigarette after cigarette, and talked about nothing of any importance. Next to Karl, I like being with this crazy woman more than anyone else. I can’t put my finger on any one thing I find attractive in her. I guess it is just the whole package.
Smoked out, we returned to the Argo and found Karl and Klara playing backgammon. Klara was raking in the money, which surprised me as Karl is a very decent backgammon player.
Dunyasha rang for a steward.
Once again, Alan Sykes appeared.
Hands on her hips, Dunyasha said, “Since I can’t smoke on this tub, bring me a pitcher of martinis. Might as well start getting drunk right now.” She faced us. “How many glasses?”
I raised my hand.
She turned back to the steward. “Two glasses.”
Sykes, unruffled, asked, “Would anyone else like a beverage?”
Karl said, “A Drambuie, if you have it.”
The steward nodded and said, “We do, sir.”
Klara said, “I’d like a cream sherry.”
Sykes nodded and departed. We sat at a table and the steward returned with our drinks. We chatted until nine, when the two professors returned. They joined us and Klara summoned a steward. Sykes, answered the call. Franzen asked for a kirschwasser cocktail and Elise Rodman, a gin rickey. Klara inquired if we could have some food. The professors had just come back from supper, but we hadn’t had anything to eat since our lunch. Sykes said he’d bring us a tray of canapés and departed.
In sort order, he returned with the professors’ drinks and the other assistant steward, John Peters, brought out a tray of canapés. They remained in the lounge in case we needed anything else.
I was rather hungry and glad Klara had asked for some food. There were stilton and chutney rarebits, several types of herring canapés, sweet pea and ham canapés, Radish Canapés Leeds, and anchovy and mushroom bites. All looked delicious and would soak up the martinis just fine.
The six of us chatted about nothing in particular, that getting acquainted talk, until around ten, when Jake Branson and the six soldiers came on board. John Peters went to the military men and after a bit of conversation, led them into the cabin area. Branson came over to our table. The other steward inquired if our Man Friday would like a refreshment and Branson told him rye and water. He then took a seat with us.
“The federal agents should be along shortly,” Branson informed us, “and then we should be able to take off.”
Shortly, though, turned out to be an hour. When they did at last arrive, imagine my surprise when the agents turned out to be Kit Somers and Elmer Pond. Karl, Dunyasha, and I had met both men last year when we were in Moscow.
Mr Pond said, “Good to see you again, Lady Hurley-Drummond, and you, Lady Bobrinsky.”
I shook hands with Elmer Pond.
Dunyasha said, “Good to see you, Mr Pond, and, please, call me ‘Dunyasha’.”
Pond said, “Very well, Dunyasha, and, please, call me ‘Elmer’. You are looking much better than when I saw you last in Berlin.”