On a blank sheet of paper, Mary drew a straight line to track the timing. “See?” she said in a hushed voice. “Mr. Fiske’s son was drafted last October in the first lottery. Fiske is worried. He had a horrible experience in the First World War.”
“Who didn’t?” Quintessa whispered.
Although Mr. Fiske was Mary’s prime suspect, she still didn’t want Yvette to hear their conversation.
“I don’t blame him for his concern for his only son.” Mary made another mark at September 1940. “Just a month earlier, President Roosevelt agreed to give fifty of our old destroyers to Great Britain. I remember how angry Mr. Fiske was, all the isolationists.”
Quintessa tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. “When was the champagne incident?”
“March 18.” Mary drew another line and gave Quintessa a pointed look. “Exactly one week after Roosevelt announced Lend-Lease.”
“Oh.” Green eyes widened. “The isolationists hated that.”
“That’s about the time I started taking notes.” All along, Mr. Fiske had seemed to be the calm voice of reason, yet he was always there, always involved. “All the problems have happened on Fiske’s crew.”
“That just means the saboteur is probably on his crew.”
“That’s what I’ve assumed from the start.” Mary tapped the mark at March 18. “The champagne was a call for attention, as if the saboteur wanted the FBI to start looking.”
“He succeeded.” Quintessa turned a page. “Here’s something about decking failure?”
“Yes. It failed after Mr. Fiske inspected it. Mr. Bauer and Mr. Kaplan blamed each other.”
Quintessa’s lips twisted. “Well, we know it wasn’t Mr. Bauer, and Mr. Kaplan’s been in jail for a while. And things are still going on.”
“Exactly. So it was someone else, someone trying to make Bauer or Kaplan look guilty. Mr. Kaplan wants us in the war. Mr. Fiske doesn’t.”
“Where does the bomb come in? I still can’t believe it. What if something had happened to Jim? To his friends?”
“I know.” Mary focused on her notes, trimming out thoughts of the man she loved. “The number two gun mount was installed on May 9. Jim—” She swallowed hard. “Jim was there, and he observed an argument between Bauer and Kaplan that Mr. Fiske broke up.”
“Hmm.”
“Think about it. Everyone suspects the loudmouths. A smart saboteur would know better. He’d keep a low profile.”
Quintessa nodded and ran her finger down the mark on May 9. “Mr. Fiske was there the day the gun was installed.”
“Yes, and he sent Mr. Kaplan to the handling room to clean up—that’s where the bomb was found. Kaplan said he was only there five minutes.” Mary rolled her shoulders. “I think Mr. Fiske sent Kaplan to frame him, so others would remember him going there.”
“Wow.”
“TheAtwoodshipped out June 1. Fiske and Kaplan returned for a final check the day before. I think that’s when he planted the bomb and painted the swastika.” Mary darkened the mark. “But it was so flamboyant. Kaplan realized he was being framed, and then he got beaten up by thugs from the German-American Bund. He got desperate. He wanted to create evidence to prove what he believed to be true.”
“That a Nazi did it.”
“Mm-hmm.” Mary gave her friend a small smile. How wonderful to puzzle things out with Quintessa.
“So when did Jim find the bomb?”
Mary turned from the affection and worry in her friend’s eyes. “June 11. There was an uproar, but not for long. No one was arrested, and everyone was upset about it.”
“Mr. Fiske too?”
“Of course. Then over the next month or so, things started happening again, sections failing after inspection. And here...” Mary drew another line. “August 8, right in the middle of the congressional hearings on the bill to extend the draft, which affects Mr. Fiske’s son. Mr. Fiske told me Bauer’s section had failed after he inspected it—and that he found Mr. Kaplan’s gloves at the spot.”
“Mr. Fiske just happened to find them, huh?” A skeptical look from Quintessa.
Mary flipped a page. “Look. On August 18, Roosevelt signed the bill to extend the draft. Mr. Fiske’s son is bound to the Army until May of ’43. Do you think we’ll avoid war that long?”
