General Molinaro stepped out of the shadows. “We expect you to help because you are a loyal American. We have thousands of troops stationed in Cuba, and even more in the Philippines. Momentum is gathering behind the insurgents in Cuba who agitate for the withdrawal of American troops. Malcontents like Delacroix are throwing oil on the fire.”
She sat plastered in her chair, barely able to think or even breathe. Her hands felt icy, and she clenched them together to stop the shaking. “I’m a botanist,” she stammered. “I specialize in wheat and barley. If necessary, I know a little about millet. I’m not a spy.”
“All we need you to do is get inside his study and see if you can find the names of his contacts in Cuba,” General Molinaro said.
“And what if I don’t find anything?”
The two generals glanced at each other, then the grandfatherly one sent her a reassuring smile. “In that case, you will have helped clear an innocent man’s name. And a permanent job at the Smithsonian will still be forthcoming, so long as you give it your best shot.”
Dr. Norwood looked haggard as he leaned toward her. “My grandson is in Cuba,” he said. “He is helping rebuild the water and irrigation systems that were destroyed during the war. No one wants a rebellion. Thousands of lives, both American and Cuban, will be at risk if that happens.”
She turned away from the burning appeal in his eyes. She wasn’t the right person for this. She didn’t have the heart or cunning for this sort of work. Her gaze trailed to a framed photograph of Dr. Norwood and a young man wearing the uniform of the Army Corps of Engineers. It hurt to look at the young man’s wholesome, smiling face.
Gray was an obsessively private man, but he had been open with her. It was unlikely the government could find anyone else with such access. Maybe there was an innocent explanation for all this. Gray could have been engaged in harmless business correspondence with Cuban planters who had somehow gotten mixed up in an insurgency. That didn’t mean Gray had anything to do with it; she might even be able to exonerate him. She couldprobablyexonerate him, for surely this was all a terrible misunderstanding.
But if Gray was guilty, he needed to be stopped.
Her entire body felt heavy as she turned her attention back to the generals. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
Ten
Ever since resolving to send Luke to Cuba, Gray had been racked with a gnawing sense of doubt. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he were sending Luke into the unexplored jungles of Asia or the frozen Arctic. He was sending Luke to Cuba to meet with a few planters and finally start contributing to the family coffers.
Caroline didn’t try to hide her annoyance as she accompanied Gray to the port to bid Luke farewell. The early morning air was damp as they walked toward the harbor, but Caroline’s tone was briskly awake.
“Luke has been doing quite well as a journalist,” she said. “If you could lift your head out of the financial ledgers and read what he’s published, you might actually be impressed.”
“And has he been paid for any of those publications?”
“That’s not how it works. He writes for love, not money.”
Gray held his tongue. Caroline wore one of her spectacular new gowns, a royal blue confection that looked impossible to breathe in. The yearly stipend she earned from being Mrs. McKinley’s social secretary wouldn’t have paid for even half the gowns she’d bought, so Caroline was in no position to lecture him about money.
“I don’t want to argue about Luke,” he said. “This is the last time the three of us will be together for a while. Can we please have a cup of tea without sniping at each other?”
Caroline raised a finely arched eyebrow. “That’s entirely up to you. Luke and I never snipe.”
The statement was unsettling, mostly because it was true. Luke and Caroline were naturally buoyant people; he was the gloomy one.
It was a windy morning, and the waves were capped with white foam as gulls wheeled in the sky. He shaded his eyes to peer across the jetty, looking for Luke. A few sailors lugged their packs, stevedores operated cranes to load cargo, and passengers mingled on the pier, waiting to board.
No sign of Luke. Gray’s temper began to heat. He’d dragged Luke out of bed an hour before sunrise and sent him ahead to register a crate of spices for export, but there were half a dozen taverns lining the docks, and if Luke had found his way into one of them—
“There he is.” Caroline laughed and sprang ahead toward the jetty.
Sure enough, Luke sat on a stack of coiled rope, playing jacks with a couple of ragged children. To Gray’s surprise, Philip Ransom, Luke’s old college roommate from the Naval Academy, stood alongside, casually watching the game. Luke had seen Gray and Caroline approaching but did a good job of ignoring them as he tossed the ball and was uncharacteristically clumsy while scooping up jacks. Both boys leapt into the air and cheered, and Luke reached into his pocket and turned over a few bills.
“You’ve cleaned me out, boys,” Luke said with a rueful smile before he and Philip began strolling to greet them.
“Morning, Gray,” Luke said. “Can you spare a few bucks? I just lost my last five dollars to Eddie and Dan.”
“You lost five dollars before eight o’clock in the morning?” Gray couldn’t mask the displeasure from his voice.
“Lookat them, Gray,” Luke said in an impatient voice.
Gray didn’t need to look; he’d seen the bare feet and filthy clothes. Those boys should be in school or helping their parents, not loitering on a dock.
“I’ve got something,” Caroline said as she opened her reticule.
