“This is so much fun.” Her step bounced as they headed down the platform. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“More fun than visiting the Bunker Hill Monument.” Arch had taken Gloria to Connecticut to visit his family for the weekend, and Jim had hoped to coax Mary on a historical excursion this morning. But when he arrived at her apartment, he found her working on her saboteur notebooks. The more they talked about the escalating situation at the Navy Yard, the more Mary wanted to investigate. Then Jim remembered the America First rally at Boston Common this afternoon, and their plan flew together.
“Oh!” Mary’s gloved hand pulled on Jim’s arm. “I was so busy showing you my notebooks I forgot to tell you about the incident this week.”
“Incident?” He gave her his best attempt at a detective scowl.
But she laughed at him. “You have a hard enough time looking serious, much less dangerous.”
The curse of having a boyish face. “Just tell me about the incident.”
She scanned the station as if her suspects might be listening. “They installed some decking on one of the destroyers. It passed inspection before installation, but then it failed.”
“So the inspector...”
Mary smiled and adjusted her hat. “Frank Fiske. He’s been at the Yard over twenty years. He catches a lot of mistakes. In fact, he told me Heinrich Bauer has made some errors lately.”
“The German, right? Did he do it?”
“Ira Kaplan worked on that section. Bauer’s most vocal opponent. Fiske says Kaplan must have gone back and altered his work after the inspection, and Kaplan says Bauer did it to frame him. He got everyone stirred up, and Fiske had to break up a fight. It’s a mess.”
Jim climbed the stairs. “Do you think it’s Bauer? Or Kaplan?”
She waved her notebook. “Those are just two of the men. Over ten thousand people work at the Yard.”
“But they targeted your bottle of champagne. It must be someone who knows your work habits and routines.”
“I agree. And this incident, if it’s really sabotage, narrows it down to one crew.”
“So let’s look at motive. Bauer’s would be obvious. A Nazi—”
“If he is one.”
Jim nodded. “A Nazi would want to keep our ships off the seas so the U-boats can hunt unmolested. But what about Kaplan? He’s an interventionist, right?”
“Right. Here’s where it gets tricky. Kaplan wants us to fight, wants us to enter the war. What would be a better motive for America to join the battle than if the enemy attacked us on our own shores?”
Jim paused outside the exit, right on Boston Common, and he blinked in the sunshine. “So if they could make it look like Nazis were sabotaging our ships in our own harbors, the American people would get riled up.”
“That’s the theory.” Mary pointed to Park Street Church rising in red brick stateliness in front of them, with its tall white steeple pointing to heaven. “Say, do you think I should dress like this for church tomorrow?” She sent Jim an exaggerated wink. Completely out of character.
Yet it wasn’t. For a quiet girl, she had a nice adventurous streak. “I dare you.”
“I don’t think so. Now, where’s the rally?”
“The paper said it was at the Parkman Bandstand.”
“I know where that is.” Mary led him around the station entrance and away from the church.
On the green in Boston Common, people headed toward the bandstand. Some would go because they agreed with the America First organization, which wanted to keep the United States out of the war. Some would go out of curiosity. And some would go to heckle.
Jim’s civilian suit felt like a coat of protective armor. Boston, like New York, tended to strong isolationism. Many of the immigrants, especially the Irish, Italians, and Germans, had no interest in supporting Britain or in fighting their own cousins overseas.
“Let’s stick to the fringes of the crowd,” Jim said.
“Yes.” Mary’s gaze darted around the mass of people, several hundred perhaps.
“We won’t let that happen!” a man cried from the bandstand, a round platform with a domed roof suspended on white pillars.
