Against the Tide (7 page)

“Couldn’t you at least find him a navy hat?” Eric asked wryly, but Bane was having too much fun watching Jack inspect his new treasure. He was already trying to twist one side of the brim up into the classic rakish style.

Bane squatted down so he could see Lucy better. “Do you suppose I found anything a little girl might like at the Quincy Market?”

Lucy was shy and clung so hard to Eric’s leg she was probably cutting off circulation, but her pretty blue eyes were tracking Bane’s hands as he rummaged through his coat and pant pockets. “I must have something here, somewhere. . . .” With a flourish he pulled out a handful of velvet ribbons. Lucy reached out to grab the soft ribbons and rubbed them against her face.

Bane stood to shake Eric’s hand in greeting. “Next time I’ll bring them the drum and whistle noisemakers I saw for sale.”

Eric’s face remained impassive. “One might think you’d show a smidge more gratitude to the man who saved your sorry hide.”

Bane shrugged. Actually, it was the admiral’s wife who had saved Bane from the thrashing he deserved when he had tried to lie his way into the navy at the tender age of seventeen.

Sick, desperate, and out of options, Bane had showed up at the Boston Navy Yard in hopes of getting on a ship that would take him out of the country. Bane had always looked much younger than his age. At seventeen, he looked no older than fourteen, so trying to pretend he was of age to join the navy was proving difficult.
Navy regulations required boys under the age of eighteen to have the consent of a parent. Bane had no parents, only a huge price on his head and a healing bullet wound in his side when he tried to persuade the sergeant he was eighteen years old and of good moral character. As a newly converted Christian, Bane’s moral character
was
pretty good; it was his rich criminal history that was the problem.

Bane was hauled out of the master chief’s office and tossed at the feet of Admiral Fontaine’s pretty wife as she stepped from a buggy. It was the stroke of luck that altered the course of Bane’s life.

Mistaking Bane for a youngster, Rachel Fontaine took pity and offered Bane the lunch she was bringing to her husband. He might have looked like a hungry fourteen-year-old waif, but Bane was clever enough to spot a woman with power, and set to work immediately. During that lunch he told Mrs. Fontaine how tidal currents in the West Indies influenced the spice trade during the Renaissance and catapulted the Dutch to the premier position in world shipping. He described the brilliant designs of medieval Chinese ships that still influenced naval technology. He spoke about the German development of new torpedo boats that were the fastest thing on the water.

By the end of the day, he had persuaded Mrs. Fontaine to help him find a position in the navy. Eric was no fool, and Bane confessed to being on the run from “a spot of trouble.” Eric even consented to Bane’s use of a false name to better hide his tracks from the Professor. Bane was on a ship heading for Brussels the next day.

All that was ancient history, and Bane was no longer running for his life. For the past five years, he had been doggedly pursuing a new great, unquenchable thirst. And he needed Eric’s cooperation to make that happen. It wasn’t as if Eric would emerge empty-handed from the plan. If Bane played his cards right, this time next year Eric
would be a United States senator, with more power than any Navy Yard could ever provide, but getting Eric’s cooperation was proving surprisingly difficult. Still, Bane never flinched from a challenge.

His gaze narrowed on the steam-powered
Protector
as it cruised into view. It was one of three ships used by the harbor police to patrol the waters, and Bane had invested a considerable amount of time garnering the harbor police’s support. He nodded toward the ship. “The harbor police would be naturally inclined to support your candidacy for the senate. And where they go, the firemen go. You would do well to start cultivating your ties there.”

Eric kept his eyes on the ship as he picked up Lucy, bouncing her casually against his hip. He wasn’t quite as disinterested as he pretended. “What about the Boston police? Do they share the same political interests as the harbor police?”

Bane shrugged. “Generally, but they don’t move in lockstep, so you’ll need to work on them both. I’ve been trying to meet with the chief of police, but he had a burning need to go to Cape Ann with his wife to celebrate their twelfth anniversary. Apparently, there is a lighthouse on the cape that holds fond memories for them. Idiots.”

A hint of humor lurked in Eric’s face. “I see you are still the romantic.”

Bane rolled his eyes. “Why does the fool need to leave town for a twelfth anniversary? He’s already had eleven other occasions to celebrate with his wife.”

Eric let a rare laugh slip out as he watched the
Protector
cruise past the wharf. “Someday a woman is going to thaw that block of ice you store your heart in, and then you’ll jump to do silly things like rushing off to Cape Ann to please her.”

Bane flashed him a patient smile. “I anticipate floodwaters rising in the Sahara desert before that happy event.”

Eric bounced his daughter as his gaze scanned the horizon.
“Rachel and I were married sixteen years ago. Each year on our anniversary I remember our wedding day. She wanted the ceremony in her father’s garden and spent months making sure all the flowers would be blooming and perfectly groomed. On the day of the wedding it poured sheets of rain, and I thought she would be heartsick, but when I saw her standing in the parlor, she was radiant, and laughing so hard. That is what I’ll always remember about Rachel. That wonderful, endless laugh of hers.”

Bane knew the appalling circumstances of Rachel’s death. Indeed, it was one of the reasons Eric had been so supportive of Bane’s cause over the years. The only political candidates Bane groomed for office were those whose commitment to battling opium would not falter amidst the firestorm of pressure in Washington, and that made Eric Fontaine an ideal candidate. It was maddening that Eric still wrestled with loyalty to the navy. The man was dispirited about the pathetic condition of the navy and had been hoping to save it from inside. After more than a year of aggressive lobbying, Bane had finally convinced the admiral he would have more power to salvage the decaying navy with a seat in the U.S. Senate. That meant Eric would need to resign from the navy, which was tearing his loyalties in half.

Bane was not going to give up. Getting Eric elected to the senate meant Bane would have another weapon to use against the hydra-headed beast that killed Rachel.

Lydia usually loved walking home from work, but today she was too consumed with the numbers in her head to enjoy the view of the Charles River slowly flowing beneath the bridge.

She still needed two hundred dollars if she was going to save her home. Even if she kept up a steady stream of translations for Bane, she was not going to reach the magic number by December.

And she was growing increasingly certain she should stop working for Bane. Something wasn’t right about that translation work. No matter how hard she pushed, he refused to give her a straight answer about why he wanted these bizarre translations. And he was such a flirt every time he stepped into their office. Completely ignoring Willis, Karl, and Jacob, he arrowed straight toward her like a self-propelled torpedo. The translation work he gave her was pointless, and it seemed like he was making excuses to come in and see her. Very
expensive
excuses that made her feel guilty for taking his money.

Perhaps he had heard of her need of funds and was merely doing her a favor? Accepting six hundred dollars from a stranger was unthinkable, but she would be happy to work for it. If Bane was developing a fondness for her, might this stream of translation work be an attempt to sustain contact with her? Cause her to develop feelings of gratitude and obligation to him? It was hard to turn away from such lucrative employment, but there was something very strange about the work he was asking her to do.

She pulled her cloak tighter and forced her chin up a notch. It was too beautiful a day to let these gloomy thoughts weigh her down. She quickened her pace as she turned the corner and embarked on her favorite part of the walk home. The narrow, twisty streets that led to the Laughing Dragon provided a new vista around each bend. There was a stretch of tidy bow-fronted shops, followed by a series of townhouses with iron railings and glossy front doors. She loved the slant of the late afternoon light that warmed the dusky red bricks and flashed against the tidy brass doorplates.

Each day Lydia engraved these sights into her memory. What if she failed to come up with the necessary funds to purchase her apartment? She could find another place to live, but no place would ever hold the beloved memories of the Laughing Dragon.

Needing some soap and a bottle of headache medicine, she headed toward her favorite apothecary shop. A little silver bell rang as she stepped inside and, as always, she went straight for the basket of scented soaps at the front. It was a treat to sample the various fragrances before settling on the bar with the scent and packaging most appealing to her. There was lavender soap from France, and a pale green bar scented with lemon verbena. Lydia held it to her nose and breathed deeply. Was it just her imagination, or did simply smelling these wonderfully scented cakes of soap make her feel a little better?

Maggie, the store clerk who had been there for years, pressed a bar into her hands. “You’ll want to try this new soap we just got in from Kentucky,” she said. “It’s got roses and jasmine, and smells ever so nice.”

The temptation was too great. Lydia took the exquisite package with the lovely illustrations and breathed deeply. “Oh, this is heaven.”

“Isn’t it just? One dollar will buy a whole case of it.”

It was far too dear. Lydia passed the cake of soap back to Maggie. She loved her apartment more than she would like a whole factory of fancy soap. “Just plain old white soap today.”

Maggie’s brows lifted in surprise. In all the years since Lydia had been coming here, the simple treat of scented soap was one of the few luxuries in which she always indulged. “You sure?” Maggie asked. “It’s just hog fat and lye.”

Lydia strolled over to a shelf and helped herself to the smallest bottle of headache medicine. “I’m sure,” she said as she laid a coin down for her purchases.

She didn’t know if she would be able to scavenge another two hundred dollars before December, but, if not, it would not be because she had squandered her savings on fancy soap.

7

H
ow can a planet have two moons?” Jacob’s voice dripped with skepticism, but Lydia and Karl both gazed in wonder at the brochure on Willis’s desk.

“The astronomers are certain of it,” Willis said. “Three independent observatories have verified that Mars has two moons, and they would not have printed it otherwise.” Lydia stared at the pen-and-ink drawing of the two moons, and inanely thought of her father. How he would have loved this! He used to look up at the star-spattered sky and spin such wild tales with no basis beyond what he would like to believe. But the brochure on Willis’s desk came from the Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C., so she supposed those men knew what they were talking about.

“I wonder if someone standing on the ground of Mars would be able to see both moons at once?” Lydia asked. “Or are they on opposite sides of the planet?”

Admiral Fontaine leaned down to study the article. “If the moons are in close proximity to each other, it would wreak havoc on the tidal patterns.”

“Do you suppose Mars has oceans too?” Karl asked.

The admiral looked taken aback. “It never occurred to me that a planet would not have oceans. I suppose when they make a better telescope, we will know for sure.”

Jacob sniffed. “I still don’t believe it. I think they are making it all up.”

Karl proceeded to try to convince Jacob of the brilliance of modern science, and the admiral returned to his office, but Lydia took a moment to gaze out the window overlooking the massive dry docks and hulking ships. It was a blessing to share an office with people who took an interest in science and the world around them. She felt completely at home with them. She was
safe
with them.

Not like Bane.

She couldn’t fool herself any longer. The drivel he brought her to translate was pure nonsense. He must be looking for whatever scrap of paper had a language on it she could read. Where he was pulling it from, she did not know. This last batch had a distinctive whiff of rubbish pile.

If he would just give something to Karl or Jacob to translate, she wouldn’t feel so insecure, but Bane’s entire focus was on her when he came to the office, and she simply could not tolerate it anymore. It was embarrassing to even think a man of such angelic beauty might be interested in her, but what other reason could there be? Even worse, she was fighting a growing attraction to the man. She found herself thinking about him at the oddest times, remembering his quips, his irreverent smile. Even the way he teased her was becoming something she looked forward to.

But this last set of documents had finally pushed her over the edge. She would find some other way to earn the remaining two hundred dollars she needed to purchase her apartment.

When Bane came striding in at lunchtime, looking gloriously
windblown, he was as relentlessly charming as ever. “What bits of Turkish delight have you for me today?” he asked with a disarming smile.

He snatched the document from the air as she tossed it to him and said, “That is a menu from a Turkish restaurant! It stinks like it was used to wrap fish. I’m finished wasting my time translating nonsense.” She spoke loudly enough for the whole office to hear. Now she couldn’t back down.

Bane pulled a chair up next to her desk and sat. “What exactly do you mean by ‘finished’?”

“I mean you ought to find someone else to do your translating. I would prefer not to work for you anymore. I quit.”

“You can’t be that angry over having to translate a menu, can you?”

Her eyes drifted closed. It wasn’t the menu, it was that she did not feel right taking money from a man who seemed to have developed some sort of fondness for her, but how could she tell him that? “Correct. I do not enjoy translating menus. Or grain registers. Or tax rolls. Frankly, I’m tired of all the ridiculous documents you’ve brought me to translate, and I’m finished. I won’t do it anymore.”

Bane held up the menu. “How was I to know it was a menu?” he asked. “Come along, tell me what it says.”

“Bane, I am quitting.”

“You can’t quit, or I’ll want my ten dollars back.” He opened the menu and pointed to an item. “What is this here? This looks interesting.” When she didn’t respond, he nudged her with his elbow. “Come now, I’m dying of curiosity and I can’t leave until you tell me what this says.”

Lydia glanced at the menu. “It is
karisik izgara tabagi
. It is a meat dish. Grilled meat, served on a platter.”

“Ah. Say it again.”

“Karisik izgara tabagi
?
”

“Yes, I like the way you say that,” he said in a soft, velvety voice. “It sounds so exotic. Keep reading to me. It is enchanting.”

Willis’s eyes were about to pop out of his head. Jacob was pretending not to listen, but she could see him trying to hold back laughter. Karl rose to his feet.

“That’s enough now,” Karl said sternly. “Lydia, you don’t have to read to this man. It is unseemly.”

The smile on Bane’s face grew larger. “It is a bit, isn’t it?” He sprang to his feet. “Not to worry. I’m here to see the admiral. I’m ten minutes late for our appointment.” He paused and leaned over to whisper in Lydia’s ear. “But how could I resist when a beautiful woman stops and forces me to listen to her read in Turkish. Enthralling.”

Shivers still raced down Lydia’s spine after Bane was safely behind the door of the admiral’s office. It was then she noticed that every one of her ink bottles was out of order again. She had been
watching
for Bane to tamper with her desk, and still she had not been able to catch him in the act.

She put her desk back in order, opened up a Greek shipping manual, and tried to concentrate. She would be insane to continue associating with Bane. He had not even acknowledged that she had quit, and she was pretty certain he intended to bring her another stack of documents soon.

Her concentration was interrupted by angry voices coming from behind the admiral’s closed door. Everyone in the office stilled. The sounds were unmistakable. Two angry men, their voices becoming louder and more passionate by the second. Both the admiral and Bane were shouting now, competing for dominance. The admiral accused Bane of being an insane pest. She couldn’t make out what Bane was saying because the admiral kept trying to shout him down.

“Willis, how long have you worked here?” Karl asked.

Willis did some mental calculations. “It must be almost nine years now.”

“And in all that time, have you ever heard the admiral raise his voice?”

Willis paused, just long enough for another angry burst to be heard coming from the office. “Can’t say that I have.”

Karl shrugged. “Neither have I.”

There was a heavy mahogany door separating the admiral’s office from their desks, and the voices were too muffled to be clearly understood, but both the men inside were clearly having at it. Then a silence. Lydia looked at Karl, who looked at Willis.

“You don’t suppose they have come to blows, have they?”

The shouting stopped, but somehow the silence was even more ominous. Karl took a few steps forward, fiddling with the buttons on his vest as he looked skeptically at the closed door. “Do you suppose I should go check on them?”

Lydia stood up as well. It seemed ridiculous, but she remembered what the admiral had said about Bane.
“Lethal as a scorpion.”
Bane certainly looked glorious, but Lydia always sensed a barely leashed power radiating behind his cool demeanor. But the admiral was a physically strong man who still coached the boxing team of the local Marine Corps, so Lydia was fairly certain he could look after himself. Unless Bane resorted to trickery. The admiral was too honorable to be prepared for that. Karl looked about as anxious to enter the room as he would be to attend his own execution, but as he moved toward the closed mahogany door, a burst of raucous laughter from the admiral made him jump.

Karl looked relieved, and Willis simply looked surprised. “Can’t say I’ve heard much laughter out of the admiral either.”

Yet clearly they were laughing . . . that is until she heard the
admiral roar with anger again. Something about Bane being underhanded and manipulative.

Karl’s face was riddled with confusion, but he tentatively returned to his desk. Lydia sank back into her chair, but her gaze was still riveted on the closed door. There was more arguing, and more laughter too, and ten minutes later Bane emerged from the office looking delightfully smug and composed. All eyes were riveted on him as he ambled out of the office, flashing Lydia a wink that made her heart skip a beat as he walked past her desk.

This time he flipped her island picture upside down without her ever noticing it.