As the damage control party raced forward, Jim scrambled up to the gun director, his face tingling from cold and fear. How many men had been killed? Wounded? Could theAtwoodstay afloat? How many more men would perish tonight?
38
Boston
Monday, November 24, 1941
Mary put the finishing touches on her Boston cream pie. Yellow cake, custard filling, chocolate glaze—what could be better? Only two more weeks in this city, and Mary wanted to savor everything.
Magda Bauer said Mary didn’t need to bring anything for dinner, but Mary insisted on providing dessert.
What a strange evening it would be. For Agent Sheffield’s big chess play, he’d released both Ira Kaplan and Weldon Winslow on Thanksgiving Day, citing insufficient evidence. Today, some at the shipyard claimed he’d released the turkeys.
This morning Mary had made a casual visit to the docks without a notebook. Everyone was in an uproar, arguing whether justice had been done or justice had been violated. Mr. Fiske seemed calm, but Mary didn’t trust him one whit.
She untied her apron and hung it by the door. In the afternoon, Ira Kaplan came to Mr. Pennington’s office to speak to Mary. Heinrich Bauer had visited him in prison, and the men had come to preliminary amends, with Mr. Bauer refusing to press charges for Kaplan’s attempt to frame him. Mrs. Bauer had invited Kaplan to dinner to further make peace. The men decided to invite Mary too because she believed in both of them and had tried to help them. Mary had a hunch her presence was also desired as a neutral buffer.
She set the covered cake plate on the mail table and checked her hair in the mirror. Besides, her other option was to dine alone with a can of Campbell’s tomato soup. Yvette had a meeting with one of her French groups, and Quintessa was working late setting up Christmas show windows at Filene’s.
The clock read six-thirty. She didn’t need to leave for another fifteen minutes. Perhaps she could stop at the store if Mrs. Bauer needed something. With two small children at home, shopping would be difficult.
She pulled her notepad from her purse, found the Bauers’ phone number, and rang it. “Hi, Mrs. Bauer. It’s Mary Stirling. I’m running early, and I wondered if you needed anything from the store.”
“No. Thank you, no.” Her voice carried an even heavier German accent than her husband’s. “I am glad you called. Mr. Bauer is not here. Maybe another night for dinner?”
“He’s still at the Navy Yard?” With the union watching over things, working late was rare.
“He went back fifteen minutes ago. Mr. Winslow called and said Heinrich must come.”
“Mr. Winslow?” Mary stared at her own puzzled expression in the mirror. “Why would a naval architect need a welder?”
“I asked Heinrich. He was not happy. Mr. Winslow said he must talk to a welder. A problem in the—how do you call them?—the papers?”
“The blueprints?”
“Ja.He wanted to ask a welder in private. It is strange.”
Strange? It was downright fishy. Mary rested her hip against the mail table. “Why did he want to talk in private?”
“He said he was at Dry Dock 2 and something was wrong, but he needed to ask a welder about it. Heinrich asked why him? Why not Mr. Fiske? He is leadingman. But Mr. Winslow said he didn’t trust Mr. Fiske.”
Neither did Mary, but right now she didn’t trust Mr. Winslow either.
“He said he’d pay Heinrich fifty dollars to come in.” Mrs. Bauer’s voice wavered. “Heinrich said he sounded scared.”
“Scared?”
“I—I am too, but Heinrich said he must go. He thinks something is happening, and he wants it to end now. He has been beaten and framed and almost arrested. And Mr. Kaplan was arrested when he was innocent. Heinrich says it needs to end.”
Yes, it did. But what if Mr. Bauer had walked into a trap? “Thank you, Mrs. Bauer. Please let me know if you hear anything. I’m going to make a phone call.”
After she hung up, she flipped through her notepad for the FBI’s number. Agent Sheffield had given her a number to call day or night, just in case.
She paused and frowned. Why would Mr. Winslow be at the dry dock? He never went to the work site. Something wormed around inside, niggling her.
Mary grabbed the phone book and scanned theWsection until she found the number for Mr. and Mrs. Weldon Winslow. Her hand hovered over the receiver, but then she grabbed it and dialed.
A woman answered. “Hello?”
