Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air (37 page)

"Which is everybody on the list," Alma said.

"Not everybody," Bea said tartly.

George grinned. "Not everybody who absolutely and completely deserved it but didn't receive one because of their sex and the secrecy of their work, but whose merits should have been amply established and recognized. Not that you're still bitter."

Beatrice looked somewhat mollified.

"A lot of women deserved things and didn't get them," Mitch said abruptly.

Stasi looked sideways at the heat in his tone.

"Well, it was crap," Mitch said. "Pardon my language. And that whole business of pulling widows’ pensions in the 1820s unless they could produce a valid marriage certificate. As if anyone could who was married on campaign! It was petty and it was cruel." He stopped suddenly, blinking. "I guess I feel strongly about that."

"Apparently you do." Alma looked amused.

Mitch wavered suddenly before Lewis's eyes, like an overlay of one piece of film over another, so clear that for a moment he thought he saw it physically — a small woman, busty and striking, her dark hair pinned up in braids that crossed over her head, brown eyes and a tilt to her head like a bird, but something of Mitch about her still, something the same in her face and expression though it seemed she could not be more unlike.

Alma said something Lewis didn't catch, leaning forward, and her familiar, beloved face wavered too, long mustaches and a saturnine complexion entirely at odds with Alma. But there were the same broad shoulders, the same smile, the same sky blue eyes, her usual protectiveness of Mitch transformed into tenderness.

Lewis was so distracted that he missed the beginning of what Jerry said. "…it stands to reason if they could use one of the decorations to find people to harm them, we could use it to counter them. Since you own a First Empire Legion of Honor it seems straightforward. But I think the key would be having this done by someone who was themselves decorated with a First Empire Legion of Honor. Someone authorized, as it were."

"Alma was," Lewis said. He could see it against the dark blue of her coat, exactly like the one in his hand, just above the steel of her cuirass.

George's head snapped around, his bright eyes fixing on Alma.

A slow flush rose in her face. "I don't remember anything," she said.

"A cuirassier," Lewis said. "With brown hair and a moustache." The overlay had faded, and he reached for it again. "A sergeant, I think."

"My father was a cavalry sergeant," Alma said. "He said I was born to the saddle and it's a pity I wasn't a boy."

"If you were, you wouldn't be an aviatrix," George said. "And that may be a lot more important right now." He paused. "Imperial guard at Waterloo?" he asked thoughtfully.

"I don't remember anything," Alma said. "Now or ever. Ask Lewis."

Lewis shook his head. "I only saw what I said. Definitely a Legion of Honor. The same one as this, with the balls on the tips." He didn't see any reason to mention seeing Mitch as a woman, as confusing and embarrassing as that was. For some reason imagining Mitch as a busty campaign wife was much weirder than imagining Alma a cavalry sergeant.

"Then that means there are two people who can use the correspondence," Beatrice said to Jerry. "George had one too. I think we can do some kind of protection if we use the medal. Something that will at least counteract Pelley's malice."

Jerry nodded slowly. "This is going to be complicated. And it's going to take a lot of energy. Though the seven of us are fairly strong."

"We can count on Peter too," Beatrice said. "And Margaret. I don’t know a lot of the other people here well yet, because we just moved back to the islands this spring and most of them came in while we were gone. I'm not sure I'd trust them completely. But Peter and Margaret are solid."

Alma nodded. "We'll trust your judgment on that," she said. "And perhaps you and Jerry can put your heads together writing it?"

"We can do that," Jerry said. "And plan to do this sometime next week?"

"I'd want to look at an ephemeris," Beatrice said.

"So would I," Jerry replied.

"Then we'll leave you to it and call it a plan," Alma said.

“Just keep your eyes open,” George said, with another wolfish smile. “I’m willing to bet Pelley’s not done with us yet.” Lewis thought it sounded almost as though he’d welcome another attack. “And I do mean all of us. You got in his way, and he’s not going to forget that.”

“We’ll be careful,” Alma said.

J
erry made his way onto the lanai, drink in one hand, cane in the other, and lowered himself carefully into the chair that was set furthest from the rest, stretching his leg with a wince of pain. The soft ground had been giving him fits the last few days, a bright new sore on the side of his stump. He was treating it with his usual ointments and extra moleskin pads, but he couldn’t deny he was happier not going into Honolulu this evening. Willi had taken Hansen out for dinner and a conversation about Clancy Gray, and Jerry wasn’t sorry to be missing that, either. Admittedly, if he’d gone, they could have stopped by Johnny Chen’s afterward, but it was more sensible to stay home and rest his leg. He had learned through bitter experience that he couldn’t push himself too far without paying for it later.

He looked up as Alma came to join him, the children’s voices following her out the open doors. It was still half an hour or more to supper, and the usual chaos prevailed.

“I’ve left Lewis to get Dora cleaned up. How a child can get so grubby at the beach is beyond me.”

Jerry grinned. “Salt water’s not really good for washing, Al.”

“But apparently it’s perfect for collecting sand.” Alma dropped into the chair beside him, stretching out her legs in unconscious imitation. “Oh, that’s good. The Cat’s cockpit is just a little cramped — the bombardier’s compartment is practically under our feet, and I’m always afraid I’m going to miss my step.”

“Everything still going well with Miss Lauder?” Jerry took a sip of his drink, squinting at the harbor, the long shadows beginning to fall across the ships at anchor. She was the weak point, the closest connection Pelley had with them, though so far he hadn’t tried to use it. Probably he wasn’t aware of it, Jerry thought, and the warding should at least protect them in the air… and that was one more thing he ought to be working on, along with the larger ritual, some way to break Pelley’s hold for good.

“So far. We haven’t had any more trouble.”

“We ought to try to do something for her. More than warding the plane.”

“I suppose. I mean, yes, we should, but she’s pretty skittish about the whole thing. And I told you, Pelley’s strong, stronger than I expected. I’d like to hit this plan of his first, before he’s aware of what we can do.”

“It’s a risk,” Jerry said.

“Lily’s as protected as she’s willing to be right now. And — you heard Lewis. I think this ritual has to come first.” She glanced sideways at him. “And, speaking of that… I’ve been talking to Mrs. Patton, and it looks as though we need to have our meeting here on the 16th.”

“Here?” Jerry sat up, frowning. “Bea hosted the ritual last time —“

“It’s a Tuesday night,” Alma said. “Her daughter’s going to be home, and Bea doesn’t want her to know what’s going on.”

Of course not. Jerry said, “What about Dr. Buck? Couldn’t we meet at their house?”

“They’re living in a hotel,” Alma said.

“What were you planning to do with our kids?” Jerry asked, and Alma grimaced.

“Well, Dora and Merilee will be in bed, that’s not a problem. I hadn’t quite figured out what to do with Jimmy and Douglas.”

“I suppose we’ll have to think of something.” Jerry took a swallow of his drink, barely tasting the rum. If they had to meet here, that meant doing something about Willi, and that was a thing he had been hoping to avoid. Alma was looking at him and he sighed. “And you want me to ask Willi to let us have the house that night, I suppose?”

Alma nodded. “If you don’t mind. I know it’s awkward —“

“It’s a bit more than awkward.” Jerry shook his head. “If the Bucks are going to be here as well as the Pattons — you have to see how that’s going to look.”

“I know,” Alma said again. “I’m sorry.”

“If I make an effort to talk to Dr. Buck without him — and with Bea Patton, who is something of an expert in her own right — it’ll look as though I’m going behind his back about the dig. And we’re currently not in agreement about a couple of the finds, which makes it even more likely that I might try that.”

“I didn’t know that,” Alma said, after a moment, and Jerry looked away, staring blindly over the harbor.

“We found two pieces of what might be oracle bones. Chinese oracle bones. One of them has scratches that might be crudely-formed characters, but Willi’s adamant that they’re just marks. Accidental and therefore meaningless.” He reached for his cigarette case, lit one, the match flaring in the gathering dusk. “I don’t know why he’s so determined not to find anything, but — he’s very definite. Asking him to leave us alone will only make the situation worse.”

Alma sighed. “We can’t change the date.”

“And what am I supposed to tell him?” Jerry drew a lungful of smoke, barely tasting it. “Would you mind giving us the house for an evening, only I can’t tell you exactly what we’re doing, except that I’m inviting our boss and not you?”

“Tell him it’s for dinner,” Alma said. “Army business, Colonel Patton and friends talking to Mitch and Lewis.”

“And not tell him about Dr. Buck?”

“It’s an option, I suppose.”

“Not a good one.” People talked — someone would say something, and then it would look even worse. Jerry shook his head. “If there’s no other way, of course I’ll talk to him. It’s just…” It was just that this was the first thing he’d had that was something like a relationship since Gil died, and he didn’t want it to end. Not yet.

“That bad?” Alma rested her hand lightly on his arm.

“I don’t know. I hope not.” He stopped, staring out into the rising dark. “I like him, Al.”

“I know.” She tightened her fingers, sympathy but not apology, and he sighed again.

“He’s not very sympathetic to esoteric ideas.”

“Lots of people aren’t,” she said.

Jerry nodded. “Gil spoiled me.”

“We were lucky,” she said, with a quicksilver smile. “Believe me, I know it.”

“And I know this is Lodge business,” Jerry said. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Let me settle things with the kids first,” Alma said. “No point in saying anything until we know they’re squared away.”

“Thank you.”

“If there were any other way, I wouldn’t ask,” Alma said, and Jerry nodded. He knew that was true, knew she understood what she was asking, and knew what it meant to him. She wouldn’t grudge him what he’d found any more than he had grudged her Lewis. Only Lewis had walked into their strange life and made it home.

“I’ll make it work,” he said, and hoped it would be possible.

The problem nagged at him all the next day, and despite his efforts to keep things ordinary, he caught Willi watching him curiously at their lunch break.

“Everything all right?” he asked. They were still speaking German to each other, though Jerry had to remember that Hanson certainly read the language. Good practice for him, and good incentive for his seniors to keep their conversations professional.

“I’d like you to look at the new bone again and tell me what those characters say,” Jerry said, grasping at the first topic that came to mind, and then flinched as he realized it was only going to make things worse.

Willi scowled. “They aren’t characters. I keep telling you that.”

“If they were,” Jerry said.

“But they’re not.” Willi brushed crumbs from his lap and stood up quickly. “Very well, gentleman, back to work!”

They made little progress after that, and when they returned to the house, tired and irritable, Alma caught his sleeve and drew him into the kitchen. The air was hot and smelled of potatoes and roasting pork, and Stasi was busy stirring something on the stove while the two little girls sat solemnly in a corner, one with a doll, the other with a wooden spoon.

“Stasi talked to Miss Lee,” Alma said. “She’s going to take the boys out on a harbor cruise with her cousins Tuesday night. Apparently one of the cousins owns a charter boat, and does some sort of cruise with drinks. He said he’d take her and the kids. It’s an adventure.”

“That’s good,” Jerry said, though he felt his stomach knot. “I’ll have a word with Willi, then.”

“Thanks.” Alma laid her hand gently on his shoulder, and turned away.

There was no chance to talk to Willi until well after dinner, when the little girls were upstairs in bed and the boys had been sent to the sleeping porch to read until lights out. It was dark on the lanai, the lights of Honolulu spread below them, just the lamps in the living room to cast a soft glow across the worn boards. The radio was playing a dance tune, and a twinned pair of shadows moved against the curtains. Alma and Lewis had retreated to their room after they put the girls to bed, and wouldn’t be out again, and this… this was the best chance he’d get. Jerry lit a cigarette, looking sideways at Willi where he leaned against the rail, and offered him the case. Willi took it and a light, exhaling smoke into the dark.

“I am sorry about today,” he said. “I think Gray has me more on edge than I realize.”

Jerry winced. “He’s a difficult boy. He must know this isn’t helping his career.”

“I’m not sure that has crossed his mind.”

“I suppose not.” Jerry took a deep breath. “I need to ask a favor.”

Willi looked up, startled. “Of course.”

“Tuesday night — Alma and Mitch want the house to themselves, for a meeting.”

“Sure.” Willi shrugged. “You and I can have dinner in town and then — Johnny Chen’s, maybe?”

Jerry winced again. “Actually, I’m going to be at the meeting, too.”

“Oh?” Willi’s expression was wary. “What sort of a meeting will this be?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“And who else will be at this meeting?” Willi asked.