“Not as complicated as my other theory.”
“What’s that?”
Mary held his arm tight and frowned. “What if an isolationist is framing an interventionist?”
“An isolationist...?”
“Think about it. What’s one of the strongest isolationist arguments? That the British used false propaganda to trick us into fighting the First World War. Now, what would happen if an interventionist made it look as if the Nazis were trying to sink our ships and kill our men? How would the public react?”
Jim nodded. “They’d be furious. It might tip the scales and make people want to enter the war.”
“Exactly. But what if that interventionist were proven to be framing the Germans? What if he were caught in the act of tricking the public?”
“I see. Then the public would be even more furious that they’d been fooled. They’d be even more opposed to entering the war or helping the Allies. Say, that’s clever, Mary.”
She stopped at the entrance to Building 28. “I don’t know about clever. Remember what our dear FBI agent said about the obvious scenario usually being right. He’s far more experienced than I am. Reading mysteries isn’t the same as solving them.”
Jim opened the door for Mary and shook out the umbrella. “Well, keep up your work. I promised him I’d keep an eye on you, after all.”
“Now who’s being clever?” Mary stepped inside and unbuttoned her raincoat.
“One thing’s for certain—the saboteur succeeded in his primary purpose. My ship is not at sea, and everyone here is busy putting her back together instead of building new ships.”
Mary sighed and hung her coat on a row of hooks. “And with all the tensions whipped into a frenzy, productivity has slowed to a crawl.”
Jim shrugged off his coat. “All the more reason for Mary Stirling to continue her amateur sleuthing.”
“I will.”
In the restaurant, the tables were crowded with workers. Mary smiled at some of them and greeted others. After four years, they felt almost like uncles and cousins. Some were rough around the edges, but they were the salt of the earth, hardworking and trustworthy.
How could any one of these men commit sabotage? Would any of them really try to hurt her?
“Mary?” Jim’s voice sounded husky.
She faced him. “Yes?”
He gripped her arm, right above the elbow, with an intensity in his gaze she hadn’t seen before. “Be careful.”
In that crowded room, surrounded by boisterous conversation, all she could see was the concern in his eyes. “I will.”
16
Tuesday, July 1, 1941
Lieutenant Reinhardt signed the form with a flourish and passed it to Jim without a glance. “Take that up to the captain.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Jim exchanged a look with Gunner’s Mate Homer Udell. Ever since they’d discovered the bomb, Reinhardt had rarely looked them in the eye. Could be he was angry at Jim and Udell for going over his head. Or it could be he was embarrassed that they’d been forced to do so, that he hadn’t acted himself.
Either way, Jim handled the gunnery officer as he would a caged bear. Feed him regularly with work well done. Don’t provoke him. Don’t get caught alone in a room with him.
Jim stepped out the door of the handling room onto the main deck. He fanned his khaki shirt against his sweaty chest. In the high eighties today with plenty of humidity and a chance of thunderstorms.
For the past two weeks since they’d returned to Boston, everyone had worked hard tearing the ship apart and putting her back together again—under the supervision of armed Marine guards. Would they get liberty before they shipped out for their second attempt at a shakedown cruise? Jim hadn’t seen Mary since their meeting with Agent Sheffield.
The granite and brick buildings of the Navy Yard taunted him with their nearness. How could he pursue Mary if he never saw her?
Jim huffed out a breath and climbed up to the bridge. Friday was the Fourth of July. Surely Durant would give the men a break for the holiday.
