by Janet Dawson
“Is that where you met Dr. Kovacs?” Jill asked. “In Washington?”
Tidsy nodded. “Yeah. He was working on something top secret. Now we know what that was. We had a fling, I guess you’d call it.”
“What’s a fling?” Billy asked.
“Never mind about that,” his mother told him. Billy shrugged and snuggled closer to his mother. Chip was already asleep, his head burrowed against his father.
Tidsy shrugged. “Things happened, we both moved on. But we were still friends, so we kept in touch. We’d see each other from time to time. Then he met that redhead, Rivka, or Rita as she calls herself now. I knew she was bad news the first time I laid eyes on her. Turns out I was right. Now, Mrs. Benson, it’s your turn. What do you remember about Clifford Cole, and Los Alamos?”
“I went on a double date one night with another gal that worked in the motor pool,” Norma said. “My date was a supply clerk, the less said about him the better. My friend’s date was Clifford Cole. That was the first time I saw him. Later I saw him with Mrs. Kovacs. I was down in Santa Fe, on a pass. I saw Mrs. Kovacs and Cole having drinks in the bar in the lobby of La Fonda. It looked to me like they were having a fling. Anyway, Cole was a machinist. He worked in Theta Shop, Special Engineer Detachment, along with a guy named David Greenglass.”
“Ethel Rosenberg’s brother,” Jill said, surprised. “I remember reading about him, in all the news coverage about the Rosenberg case.”
“That’s right,” Tidsy said. “In the early ’forties Greenglass joined the Young Communist League. That happened a lot in those days, after the Depression, and with the Soviets being our allies during the war. But Greenglass lied about that to get his security clearances. He was a machinist, too. He worked at Oak Ridge, then he got transferred to Los Alamos in the summer of ’forty-four.”
“I remember Greenglass, and Special Engineer Detachment.” Ed Benson shook his head. “Those guys in the detachment were screw-ups, not regular army at all. They gave us MPs the royal fits. We were always having to go into the Tech Area and sort them out. A bunch of techs, grad students and scientists. Their barracks was like a college dorm. Those guys were shooting craps in the latrine. They’d line up beer bottles in the hallway and use them for bowling pins. And Greenglass, I saw him a few times. Just got the impression he was a loudmouth jerk, all the time spouting off about how great the Russians were. I pegged him as a left-winger, just didn’t realize then that he was passing information. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think he was that smart.”
“He didn’t have to be smart,” Tidsy said. “He just had to be there. People like those scientists at Los Alamos talked about their work. And people like Greenglass and Cole listened. They heard a lot of stuff that was classified. All they had to do was memorize it and walk out the gate on a pass.”
“You’re right,” Ed said. “When I look back on it, though, it’s a wonder we didn’t have more security breaches on the Hill. The mail was censored, but people were working in shops where they were designing and making components of the bomb. That’s what those guys saw and heard.”
“And they passed on the information,” Tidsy said. “About the bomb components, the buildings, how many people were working there, even the names of scientists who were working on the project. Just by having the names and knowing those scientists’ work, the Soviets could get an idea of where the project was headed.”
“How did they get the information out?” Jill asked.
“Greenglass’s wife was living in Albuquerque,” Tidsy said. “He would visit her and pass the information to a guy named Harry Gold, who was in contact with a scientist named Klaus Fuchs, who was a Communist passing secrets to the Soviets. The FBI arrested Gold in nineteen-fifty, and he gave them Greenglass and the Rosenbergs. Evidently Cole was better at covering his tracks, until now.”
“But how does Paynter figure into all of this?” Norma asked. “Cole I remember from Los Alamos, but Paynter I’ve never seen before.”
“Paynter was in New Mexico,” Tidsy said. “Not at Los Alamos. He was in Santa Fe and Albuquerque. He was probably one of Klaus Fuchs’s contacts, like Harry Gold. Greenglass and Fuchs were the only ones who were prosecuted for taking information out of Los Alamos. We’ve never been able to pin anything on Cole or Paynter, till now.”
“So what happened to trigger all of this?”
Tidsy sighed. “Something went missing at the University of California, some notes and papers for a project Laszlo was working on. He notified the authorities, but he didn’t have any idea who might be responsible for the breach. At some point Laszlo saw Paynter in LeConte Hall, where the physics department is located. He knew Paynter wasn’t a professor or grad student or on the staff. A few weeks after that, Laszlo saw Paynter at a restaurant in downtown Berkeley, with a secretary who works in the physics department. He recognized Paynter as the man he’d seen before. Laszlo didn’t want to think the secretary had anything to do with the missing notes. But he couldn’t ignore the possibility. He asked around and discovered the secretary had a new man in her life.”
“A guy named Neal Paynter,” Norma said.
Tidsy smiled. “That’s right. Laszlo saw Paynter coming out of an office in LeConte, late in the day, an office where he shouldn’t have been. Laszlo reported this to the UC authorities, and he told me. I’d moved back to San Francisco after the war. Laszlo and I saw each other from time to time, going to the theater or the opera. He loved opera.” She paused, remembering.
“Well, I still have some contacts in Washington, even if I am no longer a member of a certain organization. I checked around and found out Paynter had been investigated during the war, as a possible associate of Harry Gold, David Greenglass’s contact. And a possible associate of one Clifford Cole, who knew Greenglass at Los Alamos. But there wasn’t enough to pin on either Paynter or Cole. I knew Laszlo was going to a conference at Fermi Institute in Chicago, planning to stop over in Colorado and spend the holidays with another scientist at the university who’d also worked at Los Alamos.”
Now Tidsy held up the envelope. “He was taking some documents with him, to the conference, documents about his research. He shouldn’t have brought this stuff with him, but academics, scientists… Laszlo was focused on his research. He didn’t think he was vulnerable, but I did. I offered to come with him. He said no, he didn’t need a minder. Then I got a call from one of my old Washington buddies, Robert Charlton.”
“Emily’s Uncle Robert,” Jill said. Emily was asleep now, her head leaning on Tidsy’s shoulder.
Tidsy nodded. “The very same. Robert explained the situation, that his mother had broken her ankle and couldn’t come get Emily and take her back to Denver. He had an important meeting in Washington and he couldn’t do it. Was there any chance I could chaperone Emily? I looked at the dates and realized it was the same train Laszlo was taking. It even turned out to be the same car, the Silver Palisade. So I said yes. I didn’t tell Laszlo, that’s why he looked surprised when he saw me on the train.”
“Did you know the Coles were going to be on the train?” Ed asked.
Tidsy shook her head. “No. Laszlo and I were both surprised to see Rita and her new husband, none other than Clifford Cole. All three of them on the train, Paynter and the Coles in adjoining compartments, and the same train as Laszlo, well, that couldn’t be a coincidence. I figured Paynter, through his contact with the secretary, knew about Laszlo’s trip to Chicago, that he might be carrying some documents with him. Cole and Paynter didn’t know me, though I’d seen their photographs. I’d met Rita once, early in the war, and I was hoping like hell she didn’t remember me. As it turned out, she didn’t. My hair was brown then. I figured if I played the role of the flirty drunk, they wouldn’t see me as a threat.”
There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Ed Benson called.
The door opened and Frank Nathan stepped inside. “Mr. Benson, sir, have you seen Miss McLeod? The conductor’s looking for her.”
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br /> “I’m here,” Jill said, standing up. “Is something wrong? Where’s Mr. Gaskill.”
“No, Miss McLeod. Everything’s fine. They got that rock off the tracks and we’re ready to start rolling again. Mr. Gaskill is up in the diner. He wants you to make an announcement on the PA system.”
“That’s good news,” Jill said, looking at her watch. “I wonder how late we’ll be into Denver.”
Emily stirred next to Mrs. Tidsdale, then she woke up and yawned. “I’m hungry. Are we going to eat dinner?”
“I’m ravenous.” Tidsy got to her feet, holding the envelope. “Let’s go to our compartment, sweetie. Then we’ll go to the dining car. I want the biggest steak they’ve got. Then it seems to me we have a date to play poker in the lounge.”
Billy woke up in the adjoining bedroom, rubbing his hands against his eyes. “I want to play poker.”
“Not tonight, sport,” Ed Benson said. “We’ve got to get our things all packed up so we can get off the train in Denver. You’re going to see your aunt and uncle and cousins.”
Jill left the Bensons’ compartment and hurried forward to the dining car. “There you are, Miss McLeod,” the conductor said, looking up from the steward’s counter. “The crew just moved the last of that boulder off the tracks. Looks like we’ll be a few hours late into Denver. We’ll have an unscheduled stop in Kremmling to turn over our criminals to the authorities. I’ve written out a short announcement for you to make.”
Jill took the sheet of paper from the conductor and moved to the public address system. Just then, the California Zephyr’s whistle blew twice. As the train began to move, the passengers in the dining car cheered.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The lights of Denver—the Mile High City—glittered in the distance as the California Zephyr left the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains and began its slow descent down the S-curve known as the Big Ten. The wind blew hard along the foothills and gusted out onto the high plains, kicking up snow from the drifts piled on either side of the tracks.
Jill gazed out the window of the coffee shop on the Silver Hostel, where she sat with Mike Scolari and Alvah Webb. “That’s a beautiful sight, those city lights below. It always is, but especially tonight, after everything we’ve gone through. We’re almost there. Once we get down the Big Ten, it’s half an hour to Union Station.”
“What’s the Big Ten?” Mike forked his last bite of apple pie and lifted it to his mouth. “And why do they call it that?”
“We’re in it right now,” Jill said. “The tracks loop around in a big S, with a tight ten-degree radius of curve. We’ve just come out of the Front Range, where the mountains rise from the foothills. So we’re at the top of the S. From here, it’s quite a drop in elevation all the way down to Denver on the high plains. You’ll see it better in daylight, on the return trip.”
The waiter appeared, carrying a carafe of coffee. “Want me to freshen your cups?”
Jill shook her head. “I’ve had enough.”
“No more for me,” Mike said. “That was some fine apple pie, by the way.”
“Yes, it was. Just a splash more coffee, thank you.” Alvah Webb pushed away his plate.
The waiter poured coffee into his cup. Then he set the pot on a nearby table and removed the plates. “Glad to know you liked the pie. I’m partial to it myself.”
“Now I’m curious, Mr. Webb,” Jill said. “You told the conductor you knew Mr. Smith, the man who was stealing from the sleeper cars. Was it…?”
“Yes, ma’am, it was.” Alvah Webb took a sip of his coffee, cradling the cup in his hands. He looked at Mike. “Miss McLeod knows, but you don’t, Mr. Scolari. I did some time at Folsom Prison. And this Mr. Smith, I can’t say I knew him, except by sight. He was there same time I was, doing a stretch for grand theft. As soon as I seen the conductor walking him through the car, I recognized him. I guess now he’ll be doing a stretch in Cañon City.”
They sat and talked as the California Zephyr wound around the top of the big S-curve, then entered the lower half of the bend. At the bottom of the Big Ten, the CZ straightened and picked up speed, moving toward the beckoning lights. The whistle blew a warning as they approached a crossing. Now they could see more houses, more cars on the road.
“This town we’re coming to is Arvada,” Jill said to Alvah. “That’s where your daughter lives.”
“It sure is. She’ll be at Union Station in Denver to meet me. That’s what she said in her letter. I’m looking forward to seeing her after all these years.” Alvah stood, towering over Jill and Mike. “It’s a real pleasure riding on this train, Miss McLeod. And getting to know you was real special. I hope you have a nice holiday. You, too, Mr. Scolari.”
“Thanks, Mr. Webb,” Jill said. “Have a wonderful Christmas with your family.”
Alvah Webb nodded, then he left the coffee shop. Mike reached for Jill’s hand. “Now, you were going to give me your phone number.”
She smiled. “Yes, I am.”
He took a small leather book from his jacket and wrote down the number. “So we’ve got a date to see Oklahoma!”
“I’ll have to check my work schedule, of course, when I get back home. What about you? You know, I never did ask you what you do for a living.”
“I’m about to go to school at Berkeley,” Mike said. “I just got out of the Air Force, so I figure on using my G.I. benefits.”
“Were you in Korea?” Jill asked.
“Yeah. I was a navigator. I got discharged. I was injured in a plane crash, not too bad, but enough to get me a ticket home.”
“At least you came home.”
“And he didn’t,” Mike said. “That other guy you’re thinking about.”
She shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”
Mike took her hand. “That must have been rough.”
“It was. But I’m all right now.” And she was. For the first time since Steve’s death, Jill felt the pain of his loss lessen. She sighed. “I would like to sit and talk, Mike, but I have lots to do before we arrive at the station.”
Mike smiled and released her hand. “So do I. Got to get Gramps ready to go. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”
They left the Silver Hostel and walked back through the dining car to the Silver Gull. Mike opened the door to the compartment. “We’re almost to Denver, Gramps.”
Mr. Scolari beckoned to Jill. She stepped into the compartment and leaned over the old gentleman. With age-spotted hands, he took hers. “Now Miss McLeod, you’re a nice girl. I think you should know. My grandson, he’s sweet on you.”
Jill felt her cheeks redden. Behind her, Mike said, “Gramps!”
“He’s a good catch,” Mr. Scolari said. “You keep that in mind.”
“I will, Mr. Scolari.” Jill straightened and left the compartment. She walked back through the sleeper cars, where she could feel the energy coming from passengers who were departing the train in Denver, their voices buzzing as they gathered their belongings. As she walked through the transcontinental sleeper, the Perlmans hailed her. “Oh, Miss McLeod, how late is the train?” Mr. Perlman asked. “I’m still concerned about making our connection in Chicago.”
“We were due into Denver at seven o’clock this evening,” Jill said. “It’s almost ten-thirty now. So we’re three-and-a-half hours behind schedule. But we’ll make up time during the night, as we go through eastern Colorado and Nebraska.”
He shook his head. “Over three hours. That’s a lot of time to make up. Maybe we should fly next time.”
“Not me,” Mrs. Perlman said. “Flying is boring. I’d much rather take the train and see the scenery. Relax, Irving. We’ll get to Chicago when we get there.”
Jill left the Silver Rapids and went back to the Silver Solarium. As she passed the closed doors of bedrooms A and B, the door to bedroom C opened and Miss Stafford stepped out.
“We’ll be at Union Station soon,” Jill said.
“How long will we be there?” Miss Stafford asked.
“Usually fifteen minutes,” Jill said. “We have some crew changes and we switch the engines. But I think it may be longer tonight, because of the accident. There are broken windows in the first Dome car. They’ll switch out that car as well.”
“That will put us farther behind schedule. But we’ll make up time, I should think, heading across the Midwest. Doesn’t really matter to me.” Miss Stafford shrugged and waved a hand at her portable typewriter and the stack of paper. “That’s a few more hours for me to wrestle with this book.”
In the lounge section at the end of the Solarium, the Finches were saying good-bye to the Constanzas. “I have really enjoyed the trip, playing bridge and talking,” Mrs. Finch said. She sat at the writing desk, moving pen across paper. “Now, this is our address and phone number. The next time you come to San Francisco, call us. We’ll come over to the City and have dinner.” She handed the paper to Mrs. Constanza.
Mr. Finch took out his wallet and removed several bills, handing them to the porter, who was picking up glasses from the nearby tables and setting them on a tray. “Thank you for all your help on this trip. I hope you have a nice Christmas when you get to Chicago tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas to you and your family.” Mr. Parsons pocketed the tip. Then he carried the tray back to the bar section of the car.
Mr. Finch turned to his wife. “Where are the girls? We’re almost to Denver.”
“They went back to say good-bye to Emily and Mrs. Tidsdale,” Mrs. Finch said, just as Nan and Cathy hurried into the lounge. “Here they are now. Are you girls all ready to go? We’re just about to the station.”
Jill excused herself and left the Silver Solarium, walking forward through the Silver Rapids. In the Silver Pine, she stopped and said good-bye to George Neeley and his family. The Benson boys boiled out of bedroom F as Jill entered the Silver Palisade.