Time Risk: A Time Travel Novel, page 21
Rowe laughed. “Oh, my, Miss Fowler, I rather like that. I shall tell my father. He will get a good chuckle over it. One of his good friends is a State Supreme Court justice.”
“And what does a lieutenant commander oversea?” Rachel asked, as the band was winding down.
“Oh, I have a very boring job, Miss Fowler.”
“Well, so do I. I’m just a secretary at a department store. What is your job?”
“I guess you could say that I’m a kind of analyst for the War Department.”
“Sounds very impressive, and with that name of yours, Lieutenant Commander Thomas Randall Rowe, I bet that even President Franklin Delano Roosevelt himself lends a big ear whenever you have something to say, about war and peace, and everything in between.”
Rowe laughed again, leaning his head back to get a better look at her. “Miss Fowler, you are a wonderful breath of fresh air. I dare say that if you were my secretary, I’d give you a raise just for being clever, witty, and charming.”
The band launched into the song Green Eyes, the same tune Rachel had heard on Zach’s car radio as they were driving toward the club. A female singer, with gorgeous blonde curls, ruby-red lips, and a flashy pink and white dress with rhinestones, approached the microphone and broke into song, her voice lush and seductive.
“This is where I get off,” Rachel said. “I twisted my ankle, so I’m just dancing to the slow tunes.”
Rowe’s face fell into disappointment. “Oh, isn’t that too bad. I’m sorry we can’t continue our dance. I hope the foot is not sore?”
“Thank you, not so much. It will be fine in a day or so. Thank you, Thomas, for the dance.”
“May I request we have another before the night ends? It would be an honor, and it would give me great pleasure.”
Rachel managed her most gracious smile, although she wasn’t so certain she had one. “Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”
When Rachel returned to the table where the three pilots sat, they rose to attention. Zach was brooding, Billy May held a cigarette, and David had nearly finished his glass of whiskey.
Once they were all seated, Zach spoke in a sour tone. “Did you enjoy your dance with Captain Nemo?”
Rachel laughed. “Yes, I did. He was very polite.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Zach said, coldly. “How do you like a guy like that, cutting in just because he’s Navy brass?”
Rachel sought to change the subject. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m getting hungry. Can we visit the buffet over there?”
All three pilots shot to their feet and, in unison, said, “Yes!”
“I’ll escort you,” Zach said, extending his arm. Rachel took it and they started off.
David and Billy followed the couple into the serving line, all four receiving plates from attendants in crisp white uniforms and white gloves. The buffet table, draped in pristine white linen and bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and twinkling string lights, dazzled.
As they progressed, Rachel’s eyes were drawn to the centerpiece: three grand baked hams, glistening with honey glaze, topped with pineapple rings and cherries, each resting on a gleaming silver platter.
“Look at those hams!” Zach exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement. “My favorite! Nobody bakes ham like my mother, but this will have to do. Try a slice, Anne.”
Polished silver chafing dishes contained roasted vegetables and golden buttery mashed potatoes, and Rachel took her share. She hovered over the fresh seafood, growing more famished by the minute, staring lustily at the shrimp cocktail and crab claws, lying on a bed of crushed ice. The tall, thin attendant artfully placed four shrimps and two crab claws on a side plate and handed the plate to her.
She thanked him, and he gave her a snap of his heels and the jerk of a nod. Suppressing a laugh, she was reminded of a German salute she’d seen in movies.
At the carving station, two chefs, in snow white uniforms and tall toques, sliced ham, roast beef, and turkey, their knives glinting under the lights.
Rachel asked for ham and beef, and then moved on to the cold buffet, with its mounds of Caesar salad, vibrant tropical fruit salads, and an assortment of cheeses.
The dessert table overflowed with fatty delights, but Rachel bypassed the delicate pastries, the fruit tarts, and the cascading chocolate fountain surrounded by an array of dippable treats.
As Rachel started back to the table, she was unaware that Detective Sergeant Kawai had entered the club and was asking the maître d’ for the location of Lieutenant Commander Rowe’s table.
CHAPTER 43
Rachel and the three pilots returned to their table, eagerly digging into their food. With the band on a short break, the room buzzed with conversation.
“So how do you like the ham?” Zach asked Rachel.
“It’s very good, maybe the best I’ve ever had. I don’t eat pork that much, so this is a real treat.”
David Whitlock said, “You’re right, Anne, it’s so tasty. I just wish Lorraine was here. She’d love it.”
“Who doesn’t like ham?” Billy said. “I think it’s the honey that makes it so good and juicy.”
“Yeah, and maybe because it’s from this place, Hawaii,” Zach added. “All the food on this island tastes better.”
“And the sun is brighter,” David said.
“And the ocean is the bluest of blue and it glitters like millions of silver butterflies,” Billy said. “And you’re right. The food here is delicious… even in the mess hall, it tastes better than State-side food.”
David held up a finger, ready to make a statement. “Do you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking we should come up with a name for the three of us.”
Zach glanced up. “What do you mean… like the three musketeers or something?”
“Yeah,” David said. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”
“Okay, then,” Billy said. “What’s our name going to be?”
Zach thought about it. “Okay, I’ll agree, but only because you two pikers didn’t wash out of flight school, and you’re checked out on the P-40.”
“And David’s solo was tops,” Billy said. “And I fought the urge to buzz the field.”
“Yeah, and if you had, you would have washed out,” Zach said, pointing a finger at him. “You’d be marching with those Army infantry chowderheads.”
“Hey, my father was in the infantry,” Billy said. “He fought in the Great War.”
“Okay, okay, so, what’s our name? Let’s kick around a few ideas,” David said, swallowing a bite of food.
Rachel continued eating, as she watched the three young pilots grow eager with excitement.
Billy said, “How about the Triumphant Trio?”
David frowned. “I don’t think so. How about this? The Daring Defenders.”
Zach quickly shook his head. “No dice. We haven’t dared anything, nor have we defended anything.”
Rachel thought that ironic and sad. They were about to enter a long world war, where they’d be doing just that: daring and defending.
Rachel went for a joke. “Since you all like ham so much, why don’t you come up with something like, I don’t know, The Valiant Hams…”
The pilots broke into laughter, David slapping the table with a hand. “That’s swell, Anne. Really funny.”
Rachel continued. “Or… The Heroic Hams. That’s not so bad. Or wait a minute,” she said, her eyes glittering as she raised both hands for dramatic effect. “I’ve got it. Are you ready?”
The pilots leaned forward in anticipation.
Rachel grinned and announced, “The Fraternity of Flying Hams.”
The men burst into laughter, slapping their knees, holding their ribs, and wiping tears.
“That’s it!” Zach said, still laughing. “That’s it, boys. We’ve got our name: The Fraternity of Flying Hams.”
David had a sudden thought. “Hey, wait a minute. Since Anne came up with our name, we have to include her in our fraternity.”
Billy looked doubtful. “Anne is a woman, David, and women—with all due respect, Anne—cannot belong to a fraternity.”
Rachel stiffened her back. “And why not? If I remember correctly from my high school English class, fraternity can also mean alliance.”
Zach nodded in agreement. “Well, I think that might be true, Anne. Fraternity can also mean association and union, so maybe we can overlook the fact that you’re a woman… a very vah-vah-voom woman, mind you, but there’s one more thing. One more very important thing to consider, and since I am the senior officer at this table and therefore the officer who must make the final decision as to whether you can join the Fraternity of Flying Hams, I have to ask you, Are you a pilot?”
Rachel shook her head. “Well, you’ve got me there, First Lieutenant Reynolds. I’m not a pilot.”
David quickly came to her defense. “But have you ever flown in an airplane, Anne?”
Rachel took a sip of water and waited. She had, of course, flown many times on commercial jets, but she couldn’t say that. “Well… No. Not really.”
Zach lifted his hand and shook his head sadly. “Well, that’s that.”
“It’s just too bad,” Billy said.
David snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea. What if, say tomorrow, a Sunday, when it’s quiet at Wheeler…Well, what if Anne and I climb into our Cadet trainer, and I take her for a flying lesson? After we land, Anne will have taken her first lesson and then she can be initiated into The Fraternity of Flying Hams. What do you say, Zach? You can’t say no to that. You just can’t. It’s a great idea.”
“Hey, I’m the flight instructor,” Zach protested. “I should give Anne her first flying lesson.”
Rachel reached and gently touched Zach’s arm. “Yes, Zach, but it was David’s idea. I think it’s only fair if he gives me my first lesson.”
Zach frowned.
David beamed. “Jumpin’ Jesuits, Anne, that’s swell. I’ll pick you up at, say, 6:15, and we can be in the air in time to see the sunrise. How does that sound?”
Rachel was intrigued by the sudden offer. Was it better than any of the plans they’d kicked around at the lab in 2024? Better than the one she’d come up with after her invitation to this dance: to drop a slow-working sedative into David’s whisky near the end of the night? By the time he got back to the base, it would knock him out for at least twenty hours, so he would sleep through the Japanese attack.
But what if the sedative didn’t work?
To be sure, she could combine it with another plan she and Donald had devised before she time-traveled. Late Saturday night or early Sunday, she could use her forged Visitor Pass, with all the right signatures, show it at the security gate, and enter Wheeler Field, posing as Willard Baxter’s sister. Then, she’d puncture two tires on David’s 1939 Ford with her ice pick and cut the ignition wires, delaying him long enough to keep him stuck at Wheeler.
Still, there was no guarantee David wouldn’t find another pilot, like Billy Day, to take him to Haleiwa Field and his P-40, leading to his death anyway.
Neither plan was simple or foolproof. There were too many variables and risks, which is why she had always been ready to improvise.
This new option was much more appealing. If she climbed into an airplane with David before the Pearl Harbor attack, she could ensure his survival by steering him from danger. Once airborne, she’d ask him to fly to the other side of the island, away from the approaching Japanese planes. By the time they heard of the attack, it would be too late. And if David still tried to join the fight, she would physically stop him.
That settled it. Early tomorrow morning, she and David would fly away from any danger.
****
At that same moment, in her bungalow on Diamond Head, Victoria Gilbert stood over her telephone, conflicted, smoking a cigarette, the ashtray overflowing. Her hand reached for the receiver. She picked it up, stared at it, and then thumped it back on its base. She took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke sideways, staring at the walls, the ceiling.
Should she make a long-distance call to the White House and inform Eleanor Roosevelt about Rachel Hunt and her prediction? Would Eleanor believe her? Would she think her crazy? Time was running out.
Agonizing minutes later, Victoria grabbed the phone and asked the operator to place a long-distance call to Washington, D.C. After six rings, Eleanor Roosevelt answered.
“Hello? This is Eleanor.”
“Mrs. Roosevelt, this is Victoria Gilbert. I apologize for calling you at this hour and waking you.”
“Victoria?” Eleanor replied in a sleepy voice. “What is it, my dear? Are you quite alright?”
“Yes, Mrs. Roosevelt. What I’m about to tell you may sound bizarre and fantastic, but I must get it off my chest, or I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
CHAPTER 44
A light tap on Rachel’s shoulder made her turn her head. Standing above her was Lieutenant Commander Rowe, his eyes flat, his smile meager. “Pardon me if I startled you, Miss Fowler. Might I have the next dance?”
Zach fought the urge to tell Lieutenant Commander Rowe to “take a hike.” Billy was finishing his dinner, and David swallowed the last of his whiskey.
Rachel’s impulse was to turn him down, but she didn’t want to make an enemy, at least not until her mission was accomplished.
“I’d love to,” she said.
As she rose, he gently drew back her chair. The band was playing Stardust, a clarinet finessing the melody. On the full dance floor, Rachel and Rowe had little real estate to truly dance, so once again, they moved with the crowd, gently swaying.
“May I ask you a question?” Rowe asked.
“If it’s a good one,” Rachel responded.
He smiled. “You do surprise me, Miss Fowler.”
“Let’s see if your question surprises me.”
“All right. Do you know a woman named Rachel Hunt?”
Without taking a beat, Rachel said she didn’t.
“Never heard of her?” Rowe pressed.
“I believe that’s what I just said,” Rachel answered, a little too sharply, she thought.
“Yes, so you did. And you said you’re from Nebraska?”
“Lincoln, Nebraska. Born and raised.”
“And you work there?”
“I believe I answered that during our last dance. I work as a secretary for a department store.”
“And what are your parents’ names?”
Rachel felt her pulse quicken. His tone of voice and demeanor had changed. This wasn’t just casual dance chatter. The lieutenant commander had uncovered something about her, and she was definitely a suspect. Had Victoria given the game away?
Rachel kept her voice even. “My parents’ names are Helen and Frank Fowler. Mom does some seamstress work, volunteers at the library, and Dad’s a fireman. Will that do?”
“Yes, thank you. Any brothers or sisters?”
“A sister. Sarah. Older, and married and living in Kearny, Nebraska.”
“And how long have you been in Hawaii?” Rowe asked.
“Not long enough. I love it here.”
Rowe kept going. “Do you know a reporter named Greg Stone?”
“No.”
“Do you know a woman named Victoria Gilbert?”
Rachel stopped dancing and looked straight at him, ready for the challenge. “Are we dancing or playing cop and suspect? If I’m a suspect, what am I suspected of? Are you going to charge me with something, Lieutenant Commander?” she said, with a playful grin but narrowed eyes. “Are you going to call in the MPs and lock me up?”
He blinked twice, startled by her aggression. He stammered out, “No, no… well… I suppose I just want to get to know you better, that’s all.”
“Fine. Let’s dance and get to know each other. And since we’re getting all friendly-like, I think it’s time I asked you some questions. Fair is fair, don’t you think?”
“All right,” he responded, his dancing steps unsure.
“Are you in Navy intelligence?”
Rowe glanced away. “Yes.”
“Are you married?”
“I was. She’s deceased.”
“My condolences,” Rachel said, mildly. And then her voice changed, growing deeper, her words coming fast. “As a citizen and concerned tourist, I have to ask if you believe I’ll be safe here in Oahu. One does hear rumors of war—that it’s possible the Japanese could attack somewhere on the Hawaiian Islands.”
He put his wary eyes on her, his mouth down-turned, his forehead wrinkled. “I can assure you, Miss Fowler, that you are safe. Completely safe. Yes, there are rumors everywhere, but if I were you, I’d ignore them.”
And then Rachel did what she didn’t want to do. She turned surly. “Working as a secretary, I have learned that sometimes rumors have some truth to them. Perhaps, as an intelligence officer, you should explore some of those rumors. Oh, but I’m sure you already have.”
Lieutenant Commander Rowe halted, his mouth tight, his jaw clenched, eyes cool. “Miss Fowler, you are quite the independent woman, aren’t you? You travel alone, you seem rather secretive, and here you are sitting with three young Army Air Corps pilots.”
“Is there something wrong with any of those, Lieutenant Commander Rowe?” Rachel asked innocently. “I’m just a girl having a good time on her vacation.”
“I wonder if that is truly so, Miss Fowler.”
“In my experience, wonder can often get you into trouble, Lieutenant Commander.”
“And it can also be a method of getting to the truth of a situation.”
“Am I a situation, sir?”
Rowe stepped back from Rachel, lowering his arms to his sides. “Miss Fowler, may I request that on Monday morning you visit the Honolulu Police Station and meet with Detective Sergeant Kawai?”
Rachel feigned surprise. “And why would I want to do that, Lieutenant Commander?”
The music stopped, and couples began leaving the dance floor.
“Because I request it. Because Detective Sergeant Kawai of the Honolulu Police Department requests it. I’m going to be frank with you, Miss Fowler, although I doubt that’s your true name. I believe you’re withholding valuable information about the death of Greg Stone, and I think you were involved in an auto accident that ended in a man’s death near Diamond Head.”
