It was time to call in reinforcements, Jake decided. He went down to the drugstore and called his cousin Vic, arranging to meet him at the boardinghouse in two hours.
When Vic arrived, the cousins set out for a walk along the Charles River. Jake explained everything, not sparing the details. “I want you to follow up on what Harry started. You and Rosalie tail the employees, sniff around, see what you turn up. It can’t be magic that’s getting those secrets out.”
“Hey, there could be vampires,” Vic said. He waggled his fingers, widened his eyes. “Turning into mist and going under the doors.”
Jake shot his cousin a dirty look. “Stop clowning.” Then he began to worry that Vic might not be too far off the mark.
Vic nodded. “Okay, you want Rosie’s sister-you remember Olivia?-to cuddle up to anyone? She’s got a real knack for making men want to please her.”
Jake thought about it. Olivia might get Harry to reveal what he hadn’t told Jake. As badly as he wanted to know, he shook his head. “No, thanks. Best not to raise our profile, now of all times, if we can avoid it.”
After confirming their plans, Vic left for downtown, and Jake went about assuming his new identity.
EVERY day for two weeks, Jake-wearing Coke-bottle-bottom glasses and coveralls-swept, emptied the trash, and did odd jobs at the research facility. Even though he had access to almost everyone and everything, he still couldn’t figure out how the information was leaving the lab. Rosalie and Vic had no better luck.
After two weeks working the day shift, Jake switched to the swing shift. The second night, he was mopping up in the office area when he heard a hiss from the doorway to Section Sixteen.
“Psst! Hey, buddy!”
Half convinced Harry was playing a joke on him, he looked up from the bucket to see a stacked redhead in a white lab coat beckoning to him. He recognized her as one of the computers, the women who operated the large, impossibly complicated analytical machines that were behind the locked door.
He made a point of looking over his shoulder, turned back, and raised his eyebrows-surely she couldn’t mean him? She nodded vigorously, waved at him to hurry. He could barely believe his luck at this break. Supposedly, all the computers, mostly women, had the highest clearance, but maybe-
“Hey, I’m not trying to borrow money,” she whispered. “I just need someone with good, strong hands.”
Jake knew what she meant, but stayed in character. He backed away a step or two, holding his hands up. “Sister, I may be on the dumb end of the mop, but you move too fast for me.”
The redhead blushed six different shades of mortified. “I… I didn’t… I never… Oh, golly, I just need you to help me fix something, and quick!”
“I’m not supposed to go in there,” Jake said. No sense appearing too eager. “I don’t have clearance.”
“I’ve hidden all the sensitive material,” she said, bouncing a little with impatience. “Unless you think a bearing that’s come out of a rotor is top secret. And you’re cleared to be here, right? I need to finish this set of calculations tonight, mister! Please?”
Jake shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
When he entered the long, wide room, the racket almost floored him. On one side of the room were rows of shelves of electronics, bulbs and dials like 10,000 radios. The other side, a spaghetti mess of wires, all the way down the wall. The heat from the analytical machines was oppressive; a few curls stuck limply to the redhead’s cheek.
“It’s over here,” she said and handed him a screwdriver. “If you could get that bearing back on track, I’d owe you.”
Jake saw the problem right away. He grimaced; his hand was too big to fit comfortably, but she was right. All it took was brute strength to get the bearing reset. When it snapped into place, the woman’s face lit up.
“Oh, thanks a million! I’d just gotten the-well, I can’t really say. But if you hadn’t been there, a lot of hard preparation would have gone down the drain, and some of our boys would have been in a real jam.” Satisfied the machine was in order, she ushered Jake back to the administrative area.
The door safely shut behind her, she exhaled. “Phew! Thank goodness you were there. Those machines are so twitchy! Anyway, thanks.”
“My pleasure.” An idea blossomed. “Say, how do you manage when I’m not here?”
“Oh, I’m usually on the day shift. There’s a supervisor to help out then. And funny, they don’t think they need one after five o’clock. Sometimes the fireman on duty-you saw how hot it gets? Sometimes he helps me.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Ginny.”
Jake shook her hand, being careful not to crush her delicate fingers. “Stuart.” He grinned. “Call me Stu.”
“Well, Stu, I’d be happy to buy you a cup of coffee. I’ve got a ten-minute break coming up.”
Good thing he’d hidden his wedding band under the lining of his bag at the boardinghouse. “Why, thanks, Ginny. That sounds fine.”
They drank the coffee, didn’t even miss the sugar. Ginny unwrapped a piece of newspaper, offered Jake a molasses cookie.
Sighing deeply, Jake said, “I sure am glad we met! What a treat.”
Suddenly shy, Ginny said, “I’m covering for my friend Ida. Her boyfriend got the night off. They went to see Duke Ellington at the Roseland. And tomorrow, they’ll see Sabby Lewis at Le Club Martinique.”
Jake perked up; he was a fan of jazz and the local bands. “The boyfriend’s either missing a leg, an eye, or is about a hundred and forty-seven.”
Ginny laughed. “It’s not that bad. He tried to sign up-three different recruitment stations-but they all caught on to his gimpy leg and marked him 4-F. But we can use every pair of hands we get. This place is always humming, always something new. Eddie-that’s the boyfriend-he’s the head of grounds services, here.” She smiled, compressing her lips hard together. “So many boys gone… if a gal gets the chance to go on a date, you help her out.”
There was such a wistfulness in her voice, Jake asked, “And your young man?”
“It shows, huh?” She nodded. “ Italy. Or last I heard, two months ago.”
“That’s tough. War won’t last forever, though.” Jake thought a minute. “Ida and Eddie must get to take lunches, breaks, together, though. He helps her out with the, er, machinery in there?”
“Oh.” Ginny looked around, nervously. “That’s how they met, actually. And that’s why they keep it quiet. We’re supposed to be really strict about access.”
“Mum’s the word,” Jake said. He mimed turning a key in front of his lips, then throwing it away.
“But you and he couldn’t even be in this building if you didn’t check out, right?” she said, now obviously wondering whether she’d made a mistake. “And I’m usually pretty good at telling the good eggs from the bad.”
Jake believed her; he was good at reading people, too. He laughed. “I got more papers than a show dog, and to do what? Push a broom, wash windows. Even with these cheaters, I can barely see three feet in front of me. Nah, just be careful with everyone else.” He stood up. “Thanks for the coffee, Ginny.”
“Thanks for the company,” she replied. Then she winked. “And the help.”
Jake finished his shift, then went back to the boardinghouse. He had warmed-over dinner-meatloaf and green beans-for breakfast, went up to his room, took off his shoes, and stared at the peeling paint on the tin ceiling. After about an hour, he thought he had it pretty well figured out.
It was all just a little too easy, like it had all been laid out for him. And that made him nervous. He decided he needed to go to Le Club Martinique that evening.
JAKE crossed the bridge over the Charles River to Boston and walked down Massachusetts Avenue. The neighborhood was still bustling six hours after the close of regular business. The clubs and bars on this end of town drew whites and Negroes, all dressed in their finest. Music seemed to create places where Jim Crow occasionally blinked. Jake appreciated that; he knew something about not fitting in.