Chapter Thirty-Four
Veski and the two guards had forgotten all about the Poles.
The trio was standing on tiptoe by the lead-glass windows at one end of the banquet hall, straining to see through the thick antique glass what was happening down the street. Another fire truck had just screamed past the front pillars of the 16th-century mansion. The orange glow of flames was like the colors of an angry dawn on the windows of buildings across from the blaze.
Veski noticed it first. A bright red municipal bus idling next to the curb in front of the mansion’s steps. Strange place for a stop, he thought. He peered more closely. The driver looked vaguely familiar and somehow out of place, like a man wearing a business suit on a hot day at the beach, or a child in a bowler hat driving a car.
Veski raised a finger as a hazy image of the man began to take shape. As he recalled, however, this man—or someone who looked very much like him—had been wearing the uniform of a British officer. Why? Veski eyes widened with a sudden thought. He nodded, his finger bobbing in unison to the beat of his chin. “I know him….” he breathed.
“Good for you,” came the whispered response. He felt something sharp jab at his side. “Have your men hand over their rifles.” And then another jab.
Veski jerked with surprise. He couldn’t help it. Stefan responded by digging hard with the barrel of the pistol. The motion elicited a loud “ouch” from the Estonian, which was finally enough to drag the attention of the two guards away from the fire. They turned, started to bring up their rifles and hesitated when they saw Eryk, who was positioned behind Veski and Stefan, legs apart, arm out, pointing a pistol steadily in their direction.
“Say it!” Stefan said. “Our quarrel isn’t with you and your boys.”
Veski nodded. That made sense. “All right… all right,” he sputtered. “Just don’t hurt me. You two there, put down the rifles. Do as I say.”
The guards looked almost relieved. They leaned their rifles against the wall, stepped quickly away and raised their hands. Stefan glanced out the window, noticed McBride waving furiously from the driver’s seat of the bus.
It was time.
Stefan had listened with growing excitement as Kate sketched out the plan, her breath soft as a flower petal on his ear. “One o’clock sharp. Be ready then. A bus will be out front.”
He held her delicately, hand resting lightly on the small of her back, trying to concentrate on her words, his footwork and the music, but her closeness—the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, the smell of her hair—was maddening.
He saw the bemused looks on the faces of his officers, Reggie’s sarcastic leer, and the longing smile of every single member of the crew, all them watching their performance, all of them wishing the same thing. He didn’t blame them one bit.
And then the men finished their song, the impromptu trio bowing and smiling and scattered applause. Someone suggested another tune. And then she was off, pressing her handbag into his hand before being pulled away by Squeaky of all people.
“I better take over,” he said with a broad grin, as the men began singing another song. “You look like you’re about to faint.”
Stefan stood awkwardly, watching the pair dance away, admiring Squeaky’s confident steps. He knew how to dance. Kate was smiling, enjoying the skill of her new partner, acting as if dancing were the only reason she was there. As they whirled by him, Kate winked. And right that moment, Stefan vowed that when this was all over…
“Put your tongue back in, commander,” Reggie interrupted, grabbing Stefan by the elbow and steering him off the floor. “Don’t you think you should find some place safe for the purse and the,uh, paperweight inside?”
“Damn you,” Stefan said softly.
“I know, I know. But you’ll thank me in the morning.”
Stefan pulled his elbow free. “Since you’re so insistent on being useful, find Eryk and send him over. We have a few items to discuss.”
Reggie clicked his heels together in mock salute. “As you wish, Herr Captain.”
“Don’t push your luck, American,” Stefan growled.
Kate gamely danced for another hour. Even one of the Estonian guards took a spin, the Poles hooting good-naturedly while the other guard held his rifle. When she had danced with everyone who wanted a turn—nearly the entire crew— the singers were as hoarse as seals. By then, Stefan had filled Eryk in on the plan. They had split up, moving unobtrusively through the crew, briefing the rest of the officers. By that time Kate prepared to leave. As she was saying her goodbyes to the singers, she picked up her coat off the back of a chair and then walked over to Stefan, who was leaning against the far wall, smoking quietly by himself. Most of the men had settled down in their makeshift beds, mattresses and blankets on the floor. Many were already snoring, succumbing to the effects of the food and drink and late hour.
“My purse?”
Stefan pulled it from beneath his arm and handed it to her. She hefted it in her hand, nodded her approval. “Thank you for the dance,” she whispered.
“My pleasure,” Stefan replied. “I hope I can repay you for your help.”
She stared at him, a solemn expression on her face, as if her inner eye was attempting to discern their future. “I’ll hold you to that promise, Commander.” She surprised him with a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you around.” And then she was off, striding like a prom queen across the floor. She found Reggie by the door, hooked him by the arm. The guard at the doorway let them out, bowing slightly as they passed.
“Anyone else we need to worry about?” Stefan asked.
Veski seemed hypnotized by the pistol in Stefan’s hand. Stefan jabbed him again to break the spell. “Uh, one at the door,” Veski said, “one out back. That’s it. We didn’t think…”
“And good for us that you didn’t,” Stefan said, cutting him off. “All right, rouse the men,” he said to Eryk. “Time to go.”
Eryk waved across the room to Squeaky, who whispered to the other officers, and senior sailors. They quickly moved among the crew, most of whom were scattered across the floor sleeping despite the commotion outside, shaking them awake. Stefan was surprised at how calmly they woke. A momentary blank look, or a yawn, and then a curt nod, smiles even, as the officers briefly told them what was happening. Stefan had kept news of the plan from the bulk of the crew. No need for them to know until the time came. It also prevented any nervousness from alerting the guards. Within moments of understanding what was happening, each crewman glanced in Stefan’s direction, as if needing reassurance that he was he was back in charge. What they saw seemed enough for them.
“Hurry, hurry,” Stefan hissed. “Let’s go….” He grabbed Veski’s arm, and hustled across the dance floor. Eryk grabbed the two rifles, motioned with the pistol for the two other guards to follow. As two of the Eagle’s gun crew, he tossed the rifles to them. “No shooting unless ordered, understand?” he said. Both men nodded curtly.
“What are you going to do with us?” Veski said with alarm. Eryk gave Stefan a questioning look, as if to reiterate: Yes, what are we doing with them?
Stefan smiled. “For now, you’re coming with us. Think of yourselves as a guest of the Polish Navy. We’ll try to treat you as decently as you treated us.”
Eryk’s snort of with laughter caused Veski to send a worried look in his direction. He knew from experience that Poles had a violent streak—his wife was Polish. He just hoped they didn’t take it out on him.
Stefan paused at the door, the rest of the crew crowding behind him. “There’s a bus waiting out front for us,” he said, scanning their faces. “One guard at the front door. You all wait here while I take care of him. When I shout, come fast. We’ll load onto the bus, and then make for the harbor.”