“Yeah?” Kaplan wheeled around. “I am too. Sorry the FBI isn’t doing its job. Why haven’t they arrested number thirty-four?”
“Thirty-four?” Mary asked.
“Heinrich Bauer.” He gestured with his thumb toward the stern, where the welder worked. “The FBI arrested thirty-three Nazi spies in the Duquesne Ring. They missed one.”
Mary stared into Kaplan’s eyes, one wide, one swollen half shut. “You—you have proof?”
“Proof? That’s what the FBI wants.” He pointed to his bandaged chin. “How much more proof do you need?”
Breath raced into Mary’s lungs, pungent with the smell of hot metal. “He was one of the thugs?”
“No, but he was behind it. I’m sure of it.”
Al Klingman crossed arms thickened by decades of manual labor. “Looks like those spies, don’t he? Did you see that two-page spread inLifemagazine with those pictures? All just run-of-the-mill types, nothing special. Not like those spies you see in the movies.”
“I suppose it’s best for a spy to blend in and not be noticed.” That was what Mary depended on.
Anders tapped his temple. “Yeah, well, we notice Bauer. Keep our eyes on him. Even if Fiske did divide us into the sheep and the goats.”
Mary allowed a small smile. Last week, the leadingman had divided his crew into isolationists and interventionists, assigning them to separate areas to increase productivity. “Speaking of Mr. Fiske...”
“Oh yeah.” Kaplan’s wide grin reappeared. “Here we are distracting you from your work. He’s over there.” He pointed to the stern.
There he was, not far from where Mr. Bauer talked to another workman.
“Thank you, Mr. Kaplan. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Mary headed aft, smiling to herself that she was thinking in nautical terms.
Mr. Bauer took an envelope from the workman, and the other man departed. Bauer opened the envelope, read the contents, glared in the workman’s direction, crumpled up the paper, flung it overboard, and strode away.
The wind tossed the paper back onto the deck behind him, and Mary rushed to pick it up. She smoothed it open.
Bauer how is yore friend Adolph? Be careful Natsi or something will happen to you. Think about Magda she sure is prety and yore babys to.
Oh no. Mary dashed to the welder and tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Bauer!”
“Ja?Yes?” He faced her, looked down to the note in her hand, and his long face went slack.
“How many of these have you received? Have you shown the FBI?”
His jaw shifted from side to side, and he stared at the note, his blue eyes awash with indecipherable emotions. “The FBI is police,ja? I do not trust them.”
“But they want to help. They want the truth.”
“They want—” His features turned to ice. He snatched the note from Mary’s hand and crammed it into his pants pocket. “I want to work. I want to feed my family. Let me be.”
Her heart kept pace with the riveting gun to her right, and she scribbled down the contents of the threatening note in her book. Regardless of what Bauer said, the FBI needed to know. Why wouldn’t Bauer tell anyone? Did his reticence mean noble restraint—or concealment of guilt? If he was innocent, silence only put him in more danger. Didn’t he realize that?
Mary looked up. Where had Mr. Fiske gone to now?
There he was, striding along the port side of the ship.
Mary passed three men installing a watertight door on the aft superstructure, all isolationists.
George O’Donnell talked to them as they worked, but why was he down on the docks? Didn’t the draftsman belong in the drafting room ... drafting? Mary slowed her pace and angled her path to skirt past the group, her notebook and pen poised.
“Roosevelt lied to our boys.” O’Donnell stuffed idle hands in his trouser pockets. “He promised if they were drafted, they’d only serve one year.”
Ralph Tucker paused in his work and glanced up at O’Donnell. “You heard the Senate passed the law extending the draft. The House had better shoot it down.”
