“A man?”
“I think he’s a stowaway.” She started to move down one of the paths, but the man held her arm.
“We’ll check into it.”
“But he might get away.”
“Not on the Titanic, ma’am.” His pride made her heart ache. “If you’d like, you can wait up a level and I’ll have some men search the hold.”
He was true to his word and called in two more men. They spent the next hour going over every inch of the cargo hold. No one was found.
Chapter Thirteen
SIMON WIPED THE SWEAT that was still streaming from his brow with the small towel that hung around his neck. He felt good. Tired, but good. Playing a few hard matches had done wonders for his stress level. He really needed to go to the club more often back home.
He dug into his trouser pocket and found the key to their suite. When he opened the door he saw Elizabeth pacing anxiously. His newfound stress-free existence lasted all of ten seconds.
“What’s wrong?”
Elizabeth looked up and relief flooded her face and she hurried over to him. She pulled him into a hug despite his sweaty clothes.
“Elizabeth?”
“I called down to the game steward, but they said you’d already left. That was like twenty minutes ago.”
Simon frowned. “We stopped for a drink—what’s going on? What’s happened?”
“Oh boy,” she said, puffed out her cheeks and turned to resume her pace. “Remember that German?”
“The one who tried to murder you?” Simon took the towel off of his neck and laid it aside. “Vaguely.”
She made a sour face but continued. “Well, remember how we thought he wasn’t on board?”
His stomach clenched. “Did he come after you? After Niels? Where is Niels?”
Simon started toward the door, but Elizabeth’s voice stopped him.
“He’s all right.”
Simon turned back and gave Elizabeth a quick appraisal. She didn’t seem injured in any way. At least there was that.
“He’s with Edmund in Edmund’s room,” she continued. “He’s keeping an eye on him although he doesn’t know why.”
“Why didn’t you come get me?”
She shrugged. “There wasn’t time. I didn’t want to lose him.”
He didn’t like where this was going. “Lose him? Don’t tell me you followed him? By yourself?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
He moved toward her, but she held up her hand.
“Before you start in on me, you would have done the same thing.”
He clamped his jaw shut; he would have.
She looked worried though and turned away. “I know it was stupid to follow him all the way down there, but—”
“Down …?”
“To the cargo hold.”
Simon had all sorts of unpleasant visions of what could have been.
“I know, I know,” she said, clearly reading his mind. “But I had to. If I lost him, he could have gone anywhere.”
Simon reined in his worry. “So where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a wincing smile. “I lost him.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was not so slowly coming on. “I see.”
“I tried, but it was dark and then the steward grabbed me—”
It was his turn to cut her off. “Dark? And someone grabbed you?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re all right. Yes?”
She nodded. “I’m just sorry I didn’t catch him.”
And I’m just glad he didn’t catch you, Simon thought. “Maybe Bohr should carry my pistol.”
It wasn’t doing either of them much good sitting in their rooms, but the unsightly bulge in his suit would have been hard to explain.
“You know how I feel about those,” she said.
He sighed. “At least we know he’s here now. All we need is a German spy on board.”
Elizabeth frowned.
“What?” he asked.
“A spy. I’d completely forgotten about that.”
Simon’s stomach re-clenched. “About what?”
“I was talking to one of the radio operators earlier and he mentioned something about a message being sent, over and over the same thing. ‘The weather is nice.’ I got distracted with other things and …”
Simon shook his head to try to sort out everything she’d said. When had she met one of the radio operators? Why hadn’t she told him about it?
“That sounds spy-like, doesn’t it?” she said. “I mean, it’s not ‘the raven flies at midnight,’ but it’s close.”
It was strange. It could have been nothing, but given that she’d just seen their German friend …
She flopped down onto the small couch. “Great. Just when you thought all we had to worry about was hitting an iceberg …”
Having the German on board complicated matters exponentially. “What did you tell Edmund and Niels?”
“As little as possible until I could talk to you, but enough to keep them together and the door to the room locked.”
Keeping Bohr safe would be much more difficult now.
“I suppose Niels should move into our second bedroom,” she said. “We can’t involve Edmund in this any further than he already is.”
Simon agreed. However, without someone else to help them, keeping track of Bohr would be difficult. They couldn’t be with him twenty-four hours a day.
Edmund was fit and seemed like a good man, one they could trust. “He would help us, though, if you asked?”
She shook her head. “I can’t ask him to risk his life for something I can’t even explain to him.”
“His life may be forfeit as it is.”
Elizabeth sat up and glared at him. “We didn’t save his life just to throw it away.”
“We’re not throwing it away,” Simon said as he sat down next to her. “We’re not doing anything of the sort.”
“I don’t want to involve him in this,” she said, “any more than I have already.”
It was clear she had a soft spot for the boy and regretted pulling him into their world as much as he did. Maybe she was right. It was unfair to ask him.
He took hold of her hand. “You’re right. We’ll find a way to protect Bohr.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “All right?”
She nodded, but he could see the concern in her eyes.
~~~
At a quarter to eight that night they knocked on Edmund’s door. He opened it and smiled broadly at them both, even giving Elizabeth a small whistle of appreciation.
“Don’t you look spiffy,” she said.
He grinned and brushed invisible lint from his lapels. “This old thing?”
“If you two are finished admiring each other,” Niels said as he appeared behind Edmund, “I am famished.”
Simon stepped aside. “After you.”
Niels gave him a small bow and joined them in the hall.
“You two go ahead,” Elizabeth said to Simon and Niels. “We’ll catch up.”
Simon gave her a look of encouragement before he and Niels started down the hall.
“Something wrong?” Edmund asked.
“No,” she said reflexively. “I mean, yes, sort of.”
Edmund was unsurprisingly confused.
“I want to thank you for helping us out,” she said.
“I’m happy to. I owe you—”
“You don’t.”
“Oh, I do. I just wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”
She smiled at him. “It’s complicated.”
“I might look dumb, but—”
She laughed. “It’s not that. I wish I could explain it, but we need to keep away from each other. The less we’re seen together the better.”
His face fell and it hurt to see the pain in his eyes. “I see. I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
She took his arm. “No, it’s not like that. It’s not about that at all. I’d trade yo
u for a hundred of them.”
“Then why? I don’t understand.”
She wanted to be honest, but she knew if she told him the truth, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was that sort of man.
“You’ll just have to trust me,” she said. “Trust that it’s for the best. Simon and I, and Nicholas, too, we need to keep our distance from you.”
He frowned.
She hated this. Even knowing it was the right thing to do, she hated hurting him. “I wish we’d met somewhere else, anywhere else, under any other circumstances.”
His earnest eyes looked back at her, still confused, but accepting.
“Think of the trouble we could have gotten into together,” she said.
He laughed. “Maybe when whatever this is, is over?”
She nodded, hoping it could somehow be true.
They caught up with Simon and Niels in the reception room. Simon’s arched eyebrow asked silently how it went. All she could do was sigh in reply as Edmund stood uneasily at her side. He looked around the room, sure he was supposed to be there and not here, but he couldn’t seem to make himself go.
“There you are!”
Simon winced. Kimball.
The man was all right, he supposed, but he was so loud.
He joined them and clapped Simon on the shoulder. “This guy is good,” he announced to the others. “Single-handedly won it for the team.”
“I think you’re overstating—”
“I’m not,” Kimball said. “He was—”
Thankfully, the doors to the main dining room opened and brought Kimball to a premature halt. The group fell in with the others and filtered into the dining room.
“Great backhand,” he heard Kimball say as they made their way to their table. “Smooth.”
How on earth he was going to get through a meal with this man prattling on, he didn’t know. The only thing that could make it worse was—
“Eres un ángel.”
Carrillo.
Simon mustered a tight smile as the man kissed Elizabeth’s hand. He even had the audacity to continue to hold onto it as he smiled right back at him. The bastard would have kept ahold of it, too, if Elizabeth hadn’t pulled it away.
Margaret Brown and Dr. Hass arrived together and took their seats. Edmund stood awkwardly nearby as they did, realizing there weren’t enough chairs.
“I’ve got you a seat at table twenty-seven,” Simon said. “With Sergei Kataraov and the Sheridans.”
Edmund was surprised and disappointed but covered it quickly. “Oh. Right.”
“I can walk you over, if you’d—”
“No, that’s all right.”
He was hurt and it was clearly all Elizabeth could do not to drag a chair up to the table to make room.
“You,” he said struggling to cover his disappointment, “you have a good evening.”
“Thank you,” Simon said and took his own seat.
Elizabeth watched him go from the corner of her eyes.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“Need I remind you, this was your idea.”
“I know, but it’s like throwing rocks at a puppy.”
“He’ll be fine.”
“Who will?” Kimball asked, never shy about joining conversations that didn’t involve him.
“Jack,” Simon said quickly, thinking of his game with John Jacob Astor that afternoon. “After he recovers from his shame, of course.”
Kimball slapped his hand down onto the table, laughed, then shook his head and sighed. “That was beautiful. Fell right on his Astor.”
Margaret Brown let out a loud whooping laugh. “Poor old Johnny boy.”
Dinner was a pleasant enough affair. Dr. Hass was pleasant company at least, and Maggie Brown seemed to pull Elizabeth from her funk.
After dinner, they retired to the First Class lounge where more drinks and jokes were had at Astor’s expense. To his credit, the man was good-natured enough about the ribbing. He was a bit of a dilettante, but not a bad sort really.
Whatever Elizabeth had said to Edmund, it seemed to have worked. He came into the lounge briefly, but avoided them and left soon after. Elizabeth’s eyes followed him out. Simon knew it was hard on her to cut him out this way, but she’d been right. It was for the best.
Later in the evening, Sheridan joined them. Simon would have gladly told Robert to take a flying leap, literally or figuratively, he didn’t care which, but Elizabeth enjoyed Louise’s company and so he bit his tongue. While the ladies chatted about books and children, Simon and Niels had to endure nationalistic rant after rant from Robert Sheridan.
“War is coming,” he said, his words becoming slurred now. “You think the Germans and the Brits are building all those warships for peace? France? Russia?”
He sat back in his chair and narrowed his eyes, which were already a little glassy from his third whisky. “If you think the United States of America is going to just sit on the sidelines when it happens then you don’t know a damned thing about—”
“Robert.”
He glared at his wife and sat forward, “A damned thing about America.”
Niels chose his words carefully. “America is a unique and powerful nation, to be sure.”
“You bet it is.”
Simon couldn’t help but add, “I’ve no doubt you’re right, Sheridan. America will undoubtedly be the first in, if war should come.”
“Damn right.”
Simon could only shake his head. If only they had. The bloodbath of the First World War might have ended sooner.
“We should call it an evening. Elizabeth?”
She nodded, then turned back to Louise for a moment as she stood. “We’ll play cards tomorrow?”
“I’d like that.”
Niels stood as well. “I will join you.”
“Be careful,” Simon said to Louise, “she’s very good.”
Robert snorted.
“You don’t think a woman can be good at cards?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sure,” he allowed magnanimously, “just not as good as a man.”
Elizabeth grinned and looked at Simon who nodded his assent.
“You wanna bet?”
After the next day’s fleecing was set, the three of them said their goodnights.
“You are very good at cards?” Niels asked Elizabeth as headed for the doors to the deck.
She smiled and shrugged.
Niels looked back over his shoulder at Sheridan, who waved off his wife as she tried to help him heft himself out of his chair. “I should like to sell tickets.”
Simon chuckled. “Perhaps we should.”
They started toward the door when Kimball’s voice boomed across the nearly empty room. “Cross! You have a minute?”
How did this man know just when he didn’t want to talk? “One. It’s rather late.”
“I will wait for you there,” Niels said, quickly making his escape to stand near the doorway. He found Kimball as tiresome as Simon did. The man had an endless supply of questions.
Elizabeth turned to join Niels, but Kimball called out, “You, too, Mrs. Cross. I was just wondering,” he said. “Are you two going tomorrow? I don’t know if I am or not. I mean, he seems like a decent enough guy. Russian but decent.”
Simon was tired and spoke more tersely than he probably should have. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You weren’t invited? Now, I feel like an ass—sorry,” he added with an apologetic look toward Elizabeth. “I just figured. Sergei Katarov’s hosting some cocktail party. Some big deal. I’m sure you’re invited. You two are great,” he said and for added emphasis squeezed both of their arms.
“Invitation’s probably just in the mail, you know?” he added
Simon didn’t know and didn’t care. “Yes,” he said and turned to leave. “Well …”
But Kimball held his arm. Simon looked down at it and he released him.
“Sorry, I just thought—I don’t kno
w if Katarov and I would get along and I’d feel better—
“With all due respect, Mr. Kimball, I would feel better with a good night’s sleep. If the lack of invitation is merely an oversight as you said, it can be dealt with tomorrow.”
“Right, sure.”
He sniffed then and his eyes narrowed as a sneeze snuck up on him. He quickly patted his pockets down, but didn’t find a handkerchief and had to sneeze into his hands.
Simon winced, pulled his own handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to Kimball.
“Thanks,” the man said as he took it and blew his nose.
He laughed, a little embarrassed.
“Good night,” Simon said and taking Elizabeth’s arm, turned away.
“Yeah, thanks,” Kimball said, waving the soggy hanky. “You have a good night!”
“That man is unbearable,” Simon said softly.
Suddenly, Elizabeth stopped. He looked over at her, but she kept her eyes ahead.
“Simon.”
He followed her gaze to see what had upset her and realized instantly it wasn’t something, but the lack of someone. Niels wasn’t standing by the doorway waiting for them. Simon turned to quickly look around the room, but he wasn’t anywhere. Niels was gone.
They hurried to the doorway. Simon pulled it open just in time see Niels at the other end of the long corridor being shoved into the revolving door by the German. He turned back and saw them, flashing the pistol in warning then shoving it back into Niels’ ribs.
“Simon,” Elizabeth gasped next to him and he instinctively reached out to stop her from moving toward them.
His heart thumped in his chest as he had to stand there and do nothing but watch. Finally, they passed through the revolving door. The German paused a moment and turned back to look at them.
As soon as he turned away, Simon and Elizabeth ran down the hall. Simon pushed the revolving door, but it didn’t move. The bastard must have wedged something into it. He pushed again, but it wouldn’t budge.
He looked through the glass, but he couldn’t see Niels anymore. The only other way out was through the opposite end of the lounge but that would have put them on the other side of the ship and wasted precious time.
Elizabeth hit her fists against the door and called out. “Hello? Is anyone there?” hoping someone in the entryway might hear, but it was late and the deck was nearly deserted.
Voyage in Time: The Titanic (Out of Time #9) Page 12