Bohr blushed. “I am not accustomed to being …”
“Being treated like a prize horse?”
He laughed and nodded. “Yes.” Then he wrinkled his forehead. “But why …? Not that I am not grateful …”
“I’m not really one for these things either,” Elizabeth said.
Bohr seemed to have trouble believing her. “You?” He looked at her and then at Simon.
She waved her hand at Simon. “Oh, he’s fine with these, but me?” She stepped closer to Bohr. “It’s all a little much.”
“Yes. Margrethe is always telling me I should get out more, but …” He trailed off and shook his head.
“Is that your wife?” Simon asked, knowing full well she was his fiancée back home in Denmark.
He smiled again. “I am hopeful. Yes.” He looked at Elizabeth. “You remind me a little of her. Around the eyes.”
Elizabeth grinned. “I like her more and more. Do you—”
Bohr’s attention was suddenly drawn away and he interrupted her. “I am sorry. I must speak to someone.” He looked at them apologetically. “It is quite urgent, you see.”
The last thing on earth Simon wanted was to let him go now, but he had no choice. “Of course.”
Bohr bowed slightly. “Thank you again for the, um, deliverance. Yes?”
“Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to talk more later,” Elizabeth said.
He nodded and then headed over to talk to Thomson.
“I really thought we had him,” Elizabeth said. “I mean, I remind him of his fiancée for gosh sake.”
Simon tried not to chuckle. Poor Elizabeth was used to her charms overwhelming nearly everyone she came into contact with.
“I’m sure you’ll win him over before the night’s done.”
But she didn’t. She didn’t even have a chance to. Shortly after Bohr found Thomson, he showed him a telegram. Whatever was in it surprised the older man. Together they found Rutherford and the three of them escaped the party, sneaking off into a study adjacent to the ballroom.
Simon and Elizabeth lingered near a door that afforded them a view of the hall and the study. They’d been waiting for nearly an hour now.
Elizabeth chewed on her lower lip and leaned against the wall. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”
“Talking.”
“I know, but about what? What was in that telegram?” Her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Should I try to steal it?”
“Elizabeth.”
“What? I can do it.”
Simon shook his head.
“Aren’t you curious?” she said.
“Of course I am, but we need to get near to Bohr, not just today, but for the next week plus. If he catches you, do you think we’ll have much of a chance to stay close—”
“Shhh.” Elizabeth turned her back to the hallway and faced Simon, giving him a perfect view of the doorway and making it appear as if they were in natural conversation.
Bohr, Thomson and Rutherford all came out together, still deep in conversation.
“What’s happening?” Elizabeth asked.
“Nothing really.”
Elizabeth started to turn to look, but Simon took her arm.
“Don’t turn around.”
“Next time I want to be the one who looks.”
“When you grow a foot and I shrink one, it’s a deal,” Simon said.
He tried to hear their conversation, but they were too far away and speaking in hushed tones. What was clear was that Thomson and Rutherford disagreed on something and Bohr seemed to be stuck in the middle.
Finally, Thomson, shaking his head, walked away, leaving Bohr and Rutherford alone together. The old man clapped Bohr on the shoulder. Bohr took a deep breath and nodded, seeming to come to some decision.
“Come on.” Simon took hold of Elizabeth’s arm and led her down the hall toward the pair.
“I will think about it tomorrow,” Bohr said to Rutherford as they approached. “I am not a brave man.”
“You are more so than you think.”
Bohr smiled in greeting as Simon and Elizabeth arrived.
Rutherford bowed his head and started back toward the party. “I’ll be here until tomorrow evening, if you should want to talk again. And don’t forget about Blandings at the Royal Society. He can help.” He took a few steps away and then turned back. “And don’t worry so much, Niels. It’ll all be fine, I’m sure.”
“Something wrong?” Simon asked.
Bohr shook his head, but it was clear from his face that something was and he was worried despite Rutherford’s directive.
“I am just tired.” He forced a weary smile to his face. “I think I will, what do you say, call it a night, yes?”
“We were just leaving as well,” Elizabeth said. “We can walk out together.”
As they emerged onto the front steps of Lady Edith’s estate, Simon spoke briefly to the head butler who summoned their carriage. Small splatters of rain promised something more and Simon glanced up at the dark clouds. Hopefully, not an ill omen.
“I shall thank you again,” Bohr said with a small bow. “And wish you a good evening.”
He started to walk down the gravel drive, but Elizabeth was quick on her feet.
“Can we give you a lift?” she asked.
He turned and walked backwards. “I like to walk. To think,” he said, and, just as he did, the heavens above opened.
“To swim?” Elizabeth said.
Bohr laughed and squinted up into the downpour.
“You’ll catch your death,” Simon said as their growler cab pulled up.
He helped Elizabeth into the large carriage and turned back to Bohr who looked back up at the sky, shielding his eyes. It didn’t look as though it was going to stop any time soon.
He jogged over to the carriage. “It is most kind of you.”
Simon stood sheltered by the umbrella the butler had hurriedly retrieved, but Niels still stood in the rain.
“For God’s sake, get in, man,” Simon said.
Bohr nodded, laughed nervously and did as he was told. Simon followed him in and sat down next to Elizabeth. He rapped on the side of the carriage to signal that they were ready to depart.
Bohr wiped the rain from his face with his handkerchief and smiled at them gratefully and a bit awkwardly. Like so many blessed with intellectual gifts, he seemed nearly equally cursed with social unease.
“So, are you going to work here at Cambridge now?” Simon asked.
Bohr stuffed his soggy handkerchief back into his pocket. “No. I am here to …” He struggled with what to say. “To consult. To be consulted.”
Elizabeth took off her gloves. “We’re here for a few days and don’t really know anyone. If you’re free …”
Bohr started to shake his head.
“Margrethe did say you should get out more,” Elizabeth added quickly, tiling her head in that beguiling way she had. Simon had to wonder if it would work, though. Bohr had been immune earlier.
Bohr laughed and nodded. “True.”
“If you have the time, of course,” Simon said. “We’d be delighted.”
“Lunch then?”
Bohr was surprised at her cheek, but wasn’t put off by it. If anything, he was charmed. Score one for Elizabeth.
“How can I say no?”
“You can’t,” she said with a grin.
He glanced at Simon, who merely shrugged.
“One o’clock at Buol, then? Near St. Mary’s. Do you know it?”
Simon didn’t. “I’m sure we’ll find it.”
“Very good.”
Bohr relaxed a little then and leaned back in his seat.
“So,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Tell me more about Margrethe.”
Chapter Three
SIMON AND ELIZABETH GOT up early the next morning. Well, Simon did. He was an early riser. Elizabeth liked to linger. However, it wasn’t as much fun snuggling up to a cool pillow as it was snuggl
ing up to a warm Simon and eventually she joined him in the land of the living.
After a quick breakfast at the hotel they walked over to the river and an area not far from where they’d dropped Niels off last night. The river Cam, which Elizabeth had just realized was where Cambridge got its name, wound its way through the town and colleges.
“That’s the fen and Sheep’s Green,” Simon said.
Large expanses of green pasture land, complete with grazing cows and sheep, abutted the river at the south end of town. It was a strangely bucolic setting in the middle of a college town.
Across a small footbridge over the weir was a beautifully and naturally landscaped park. Winding paths snaked their way across green lawns and between towering chestnut trees to the river’s edge, where weeping willows dipped their branches down toward the water’s surface. An occasional flat bottom boat drifted past as it was poled across the nearly still water.
“Wow.”
Simon hmm’d next to her and she turned to him. He had that thousand mile stare he wore when he was deep in thought. Most of him was far away, but like many married people, he’d trained a small part of himself to stay behind and grunt at appropriate intervals to give the impression he was listening.
“I love spiders for breakfast,” Elizabeth said, winning another vague mm-hmm from Simon.
She was about to laugh when he frowned and came back to her. “You what?”
She did laugh then. “Where were you?”
He smiled, but shook his head. Whatever he’d been thinking about, he put it away and his eyes cleared. “We have a few hours before lunch. Should we walk? We might get lucky and run into Bohr early.”
Elizabeth looked down the street and smiled. “Or he might run into us.”
Simon followed her gaze. Niels had just crossed the road and come to the near side of the river. He walked down the bank to the dock.
“What’s he doing?”
“Renting a punt, I think,” Simon said.
“What’s a punt?”
Simon gestured to the square-cut flat bottom boats that lined the dock. “Those are punts. Very popular here.”
Niels gave a few coins to one of the men manning the dock and climbed onto the flat platform at the stern of one of the boats. The man handed him a long wooden pole, untied the boat and gently shoved it away from the dock. Niels dipped the pole into the water and pushed the boat out into the river.
“Should we follow him?”
Simon smiled. “It’s been a long time, but I think I remember how.”
He took her by the elbow and they started back across the small bridge.
“Did you and Evelyn punt often?” Elizabeth asked hoping her question sounded more light-hearted to his ears than it did to hers.
It must have been because Simon was clearly amused. “On occasion.”
Elizabeth was thinking how much she’d like to give Evelyn a good old American punt, right in the backside, when she saw another man renting a boat. He looked familiar, but it took her a moment to place him.
She pulled up short. “Isn’t that the man from the train? Mr. Personality?”
Simon frowned and squinted ahead. “Yes, I think it is.” Then his expression lightened. “Of course, seeing him here should be expected, shouldn’t it? The train we were all on was coming to Cambridge, after all.”
Elizabeth agreed on the outside, but on the inside she felt uneasy. The same chill that had coursed through her that she’d felt on the train when he’d looked right through her.
Despite Simon’s logical explanation and calm demeanor, she noticed that he kept his eyes on their new friend.
“Maybe we should hurry up,” Elizabeth said. “Just in case.”
Luckily, punting on the Cam was a leisurely activity and by the time they’d reached the dock and secured a boat, neither Niels nor Mr. Personality had gotten too far ahead of them.
Simon shed his jacket and handed it to her. She felt the heavy weight of the pistol he’d brought along in one of the pockets.
He climbed into the boat first and held out a hand to help Elizabeth in. She settled uneasily onto the center bench as the dock man pushed them off.
She glanced up at Simon as he stood at the back of the boat, pole in hand, half gondolier and half really hot Huck Finn.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
He responded with a single raised brow, then shifted his feet, the boat rocking slightly beneath them as he did.
He lifted the pole up next to him and let it slide through his hand down into the water until it hit bottom and then he pushed hand over hand, until the length of the pole was exhausted. Then he brought it up to repeat the movement. To steer he dragged the pole behind them and turned it like a rudder.
With a few concentrated pushes they were only a few boat lengths behind Mr. Personality. He wasn’t nearly as adept as Simon or Niels and had to make constant adjustments. Once, he nearly lost his pole and almost fell into the water retrieving it. His “Scheisse!” drew laughter and encouragement from the few people lounging on the grassy banks.
It took him a little while, but eventually he got the hang of it and their little slow speed chase worked its way upriver. The Backs, so-called for traveling past the backs of the colleges, was a picture postcard waiting to happen—flowing green lawns on one side, ancient buildings on the other, and the occasional arched stone footbridge.
Quietly, they followed the man following the man they were following. The only sounds other than the soft sloshing of the water and pole were from the shores. A large group of students was playing an impromptu soccer match on one of the lawns nearby. Their black robes flapped out behind them as they ran after the ball.
After they passed under the Bridge of Sighs, an unusual and elegant early Victorian covered bridge that connected two old brick buildings, there was a long stretch of straight, flat river. Simon eased back a little, putting more distance between the boats. Out in the open like that, it began to look like a conga line.
After a few more minutes they reached a bend in the river and lost sight of both of the other boats.
“Hurry,” Elizabeth said, willing to endure Simon’s brief glare.
He was far too busy maneuvering them through the water to pay her much mind.
As they came around the curve, there was yet another foot bridge. Part of it, and the view ahead, was blocked by overgrowth on the shore.
Elizabeth strained to see the others upriver. The shoreline to the right by the bridge was partially obscured by trees, so they veered to the left. They passed under the left-side arch and Elizabeth saw Mr. Personality poling ahead of them. But no Niels.
She scanned the water and the shore quickly, but there was no sign of him or his boat.
An all-too-familiar sinking feeling came and hit rock bottom when Mr. Personality turned back. Even from here, his ice cold features sent a chill down her spine.
He glared at her for a moment and she was oddly transfixed. When he looked away, she had to shake herself. Immediately, she looked for Niels’ boat, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Bohr?” Simon asked.
Her heart slid up into her throat, and she turned back toward him. “I don’t—Oh my God.” She stood and pointed back toward the obscured part of the bridge.
The boat rocked beneath her, but she didn’t care.
Niels’ punt was nestled under the bridge archway. Empty.
Simon froze for a moment as he looked back toward Niels’ boat. Then, without so much as a word, he tossed down his pole and dove into the water. It took a moment for Elizabeth to see what he’d seen and when she did, her stomach lurched.
Niels was floating face down in the river.
For a moment, Elizabeth nearly dove in after them. She was a good swimmer, but her dress would weigh her down. The last thing Simon needed was someone else to save.
As he swam furiously toward Niels, Elizabeth helplessly watched their barge pole drift away.
She started to paddle with her hands but then caught sight of a paddle on the floor of the boat near the bow. She grabbed it and did her best to paddle the boat toward them. The damned thing was so big and unwieldy, though, it took her forever just to get it going in the right direction.
Finally, Elizabeth closed the gap just as Simon reached Niels. She watched breathlessly as Simon turned him over, and lifted his head out of the water, then started toward the shore.
Elizabeth’s boat bumped into the shore shortly after Simon had reached it. She tossed the small weighted anchor onto the grass and leapt out of the boat. Simon had Niels pinned up against the small wall that lined the river’s edge, but with no leverage, he was struggling to lift him out of the water. Elizabeth grabbed onto Niels’ arm and Simon clambered up onto the wall, and together they pulled Niels up onto the grass.
He flopped onto his back, unconscious or dead, she couldn’t tell. Simon leaned down and put his cheek over Niels’ face.
“Dammit.”
He started CPR compressions and Elizabeth knelt down next to Niels’ head ready to breathe for him, but after only a few pushes against his chest, Niels coughed.
“Oh, thank God.” She helped him sit up as he spit up what seemed like half the river.
Simon’s chest heaved from his effort as he knelt over Niels, but he managed a small smile.
Niels shook his head and then winced, reaching up to hold the back of his head. Elizabeth eased his hand away and felt the lump forming there.
“What has happened?” Niels asked.
Simon glanced at Elizabeth before responding. “I think someone tried to kill you.”
Elizabeth looked for Mr. Personality, but knew he’d be nowhere in sight by now.
She could tell from the look on Niels’ face that he wasn’t surprised by Simon’s pronouncement, but he tried to pretend he was. His eyebrows went up and then he frowned and shook his head with a small laugh.
“No. That is absurd.”
The delay gave him away. Niels Bohr might be a brilliant physicist, but he was rubbish at lying. He’d been ambushed, cracked on the skull and left to drown by their mystery man. A mystery they needed to solve and fast.
“It was an accident,” he said. “I am clumsy. I must have slipped and hit my head.”
Voyage in Time: The Titanic (Out of Time #9) Page 3