Shell Shocked (17 page)

“Then lots of milk and three sugar cubes is what she'll get,” I said.

I was grateful for all the milk and sugar—better to disguise the sight and taste of the powder. Again, I put the milk in first.

“Is that enough?”

She nodded.

I poured in the tea and then added the sugar. I stirred it thoroughly, the spoon pinging against the sides of the cup. I went to hand it to her.

“Place it right there on the corner of the end table,” she said.

I put it down where she'd requested and backed away. Almost instantly she took a sip. That was good. I looked for her reaction. There was none, no trace that she thought anything was wrong or different.

My mother took a big sip from her cup.

“Is this regular tea?” she asked.

I tried to hide my reaction. “It's the tea we usually use … it's whatever was in the canister.”

“It tastes a little bitter, that's all.”

“Would you like another cube of sugar?” I asked, picking up the tongs.

“No, that's fine.”

Jack reached for the pot to pour himself some tea.

“I'm sorry! Let me do it!” I exclaimed as I tried to brush aside his hand and take the pot.

“I think I can pour my own tea.”

“Sure, of course, let me get the milk.”

I poured milk into his cup as he poured the tea. I deliberately tipped in extra milk—the more milk, the less tea; the less tea, the less sleeping powder he'd drink.

“Hey, I'd like a little tea with my milk!” Jack snapped.

I stopped pouring. “Sorry.”

“You've practically ruined it,” he said.

“Do you want me to pour it out?” I offered, starting to get to my feet.

“Sit down,” Liesl ordered.

“Sure.” I settled back into the seat. “And you like lots of sugar.” I picked up the tongs and then dropped three cubes in his cup.

“If I'd known that pointing a gun at you would make you less of a jerk I'd have got one myself a long time ago,” Jack said.

He poured tea in the fourth cup—my cup.

“Only half a cup for me,” I said. I poured the milk in immediately, added three cubes of sugar and stirred. I brought the cup up to my lips, pretended to take a sip and then returned the cup to the saucer on the table.

I tried to do a mental calculation about how this might work. Usually my mother added one spoonful of sleeping powder to a glass of milk. I'd probably dumped in the equivalent of six or seven or maybe eight spoonfuls. There were probably five cups of tea in the pot, so
that meant this was at least a regular dose and probably closer to two.

I remembered from reading the package that larger people had to take a bigger dose. Jack was the biggest, my mother next, and Daphne was lighter than her by at least twenty-five pounds. That would mean that the same amount should affect her harder and faster. Her cup was more than half empty—but so was my mother's. Jack hadn't drunk much at all.

It usually took my mother about twenty minutes to get to sleep. Would a bigger dose work faster—or maybe it would keep you asleep twice as long? Either way, if all went well, Liesl and my mother and maybe Jack would be asleep soon. I wanted Liesl to be knocked out, but once that happened I wouldn't be able to get any information out of her. I had to act now. Maybe she'd let something slip that could help us.

“You're a very good spy,” I said.

“As are you and your brother.”

How strange! It was like we were complimenting each other on getting good grades at school.

“I never would have suspected you of anything,” I said. “Juliette wasn't bad either. Have you two been friends for long?”

“I'd never met her before in my life until we were sent on assignment.”

“Did you know Jack and I were once captured and almost forced onto a U-boat?”

“I wasn't told that.”

“It was when we were involved with Camp 30. You must have had a terrible trip, by the way, when you crossed the ocean.”

“It was very hot and smelly and—how did you know we came by U-boat?”

“That's the only thing that makes sense. I imagine that's how they'll evacuate you, too, when this is over.”

She didn't answer, but I knew already from her reaction—it was like “he knows.”

“That Case guy,” I said, “I knew he was a suspicious character within thirty seconds. He really gave me the creeps. Guy looked like a rat.”

She laughed. She'd now confirmed that she knew him, and pretty much suggested that he was another spy.

“My guess is that there are between ten and fifteen of you in the plant,” I said.

She didn't answer.

“I guess you don't know,” I said, tauntingly. “They probably wouldn't trust you with everything that's going on.”

“I know everything. That doesn't mean I'm going to tell you everything.”

“What difference is it going to make?” I asked. “It's not
like we're going anywhere, unless you want me to hold your gun for a while?”

She smiled. “Always a gentleman.”

“So I guess you know why this isn't going to happen until midnight, right?” I asked.

“Well … yes … because it is late and dark and there's less chance of it being discovered.”

“It would be later and darker at two in the morning, but midnight is when they can kill the most people.”

She looked alarmed.

“Think about it. They're not only trying to destroy the plant, you know, they're trying to kill the people who work there, the people you've gotten to know and like, innocent men and women and—”

“Were they so innocent when they made the shell that killed my father?” she demanded, suddenly angry and loud.

“Your father?”

“It was one of those shells that killed him as he slept,” she said bitterly. “Those ‘innocent' women who stand on the line and joke and laugh and gossip, they are the ones who made that shell, and it is for my father that I am doing this.”

There were tears in her eyes and her hand was shaking even more. I wasn't trying to get her riled up. I wanted her calm, restful, asleep. What could I say now?

“I understand,” Jack said. “I understand completely. You're doing this for the same reason that George and I are … for our family. I'm sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“He must have been a very good man,” Jack said. “Because no matter how much you were pretending with me, I know that you are a nice girl … I really did care for you.”

“And I for you. I am so sorry it has come to this.”

Jack lifted up the teapot, stood up slightly and filled her almost empty cup. That was strange. And then I noticed that his cup was almost untouched. He poured in milk for her and added the sugar cubes, stirring them in.

“You know, this war isn't going to last forever,” Jack said.

She laughed a little. “And when it's over, I'll still be seven years older than you.”

“But we could be friends. A toast to friendship.”

Jack lifted up his cup, and Liesl smiled and did the same. They clinked their cups together, like a toast, and both brought them up to their mouths. I could see Liesl drinking and Jack pretending to drink. Jack knew something was happening, but how?

My mother must have thought that Jack was insane, or at least lovestruck. But I knew Jack wasn't crazy, and I didn't think he was lovestruck—at least, not any more.
Somehow he'd figured out that something was happening and he was playing along.

I noticed that the pistol was no longer pointed straight ahead; it was sagging toward the floor. Liesl was smiling, but there was a glazed look in her eyes. I glanced at my mother. She had a similar look, very peaceful, and she was smiling when there was no reason to smile.

Jack let out a big yawn. Almost instantly, both my mother and Liesl yawned as well. My mother's eyes were glazed over, and Liesl's chin started to fall toward her chest, her eyes were half closed. It was working, they were falling asleep!

Liesl's head jerked as she caught herself drifting off. She reached over and took another sip from her tea as if she was trying to use it to wake herself up.

“More tea?” Jack asked her.

“Please … yes.”

Her words were slightly slurred. I really hoped she hadn't noticed. We needed her to nod off without realizing it. Both her chin and the pistol started sagging toward the floor—more and more, until the gun was no longer aimed at us. Was this the time to act, or should we wait?

Jack got slowly to his feet. She didn't notice. He reached over and pushed the barrel of the gun down and away. Then he took it right out of her hand. She didn't react. She didn't respond. She was asleep, and Jack was holding the gun.

I POUNDED ON THE DOOR
with my fist. I didn't see any lights. Maybe he was asleep … no, it was too early for that. Maybe he was out. I pounded harder. If he was asleep, I'd wake him up. I was making enough noise to wake the dead.

The door opened ever so slightly and a woman peeked out through the gap—a chain was holding the door in place so it couldn't open wider. Was I at the wrong house? It was snowing so heavily that I could hardly see the houses from the street, so maybe this wasn't Mr. McGregor's home.

“Yes?” the woman said, formally.

“I'm looking for Mr. McGregor, the principal. Is this his house, and is he in?”

“It most certainly is his house, and at this time of night in a storm like this where else would he be?” she demanded.

“I have to talk to him. It's important.”

“I'm sure you think it is, but it will have to wait. You can talk to him at school.”

“It can't wait that long! It's a matter of life and death!”

“George?” Mr. McGregor's face appeared now above the woman's. I felt a burst of emotion so strong that I thought I might cry out for joy.

The door closed and I could hear the chain rattling, and then it opened again. I was practically bowled over as Mr. McGregor reached out and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me in as a gust of wind pushed me forward. The door slammed shut instantly.

“I'm sorry, I had to talk to you and—” I stopped, stunned. In his right hand, pointing at the floor, was a pistol. I stared at it, and then up at him, in shock.

“When I heard the pounding on the door I thought this might be needed,” he said. “Let me put it away.”

“No!” I exclaimed. “Don't put it away, you might have been right. I've got to tell you what's happening at the—” I stopped when I remembered that the woman who'd answered the door was standing right there. Who was she? Was it okay to talk in front of her or what? She was older—like a grandmother—but that didn't mean anything.

“It's perfectly fine for you to speak in front of my wife,” Mr. McGregor said. “She knows everything about everything.”

“
Every
wife knows everything about everything,” she said, “but this wife is a former agent of the Canadian government.”

“That's where we met,” Mr. McGregor said. “It was love at first sight the first time I saw her handle a sidearm.”

“It took me a little longer to warm up to him,” she said. “He was handsome, but a bit of a blighter, if you catch my drift.”

They both laughed.

“But you didn't come to hear about our courtship,” Mr. McGregor said. “Why are you here?”

“The plant is going to be attacked, destroyed, tonight!”

Both of them stopped laughing.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because we have a Nazi spy over at my house.”

“You have
what
?”

“A spy, an agent. She took us prisoner with a pistol.”

He looked worried and shocked.

“But it's okay. We captured her. Jack is watching her now. That's not important. They're planning on blowing up the plant tonight at midnight, and we have to tell Bill, and we didn't think it was safe to phone him or—”

“It wouldn't have done any good, I'm afraid,” Mr. McGregor said. “The phone lines have been taken down by the storm … or ...”

“Or the lines have been cut,” his wife said, “in anticipa
tion of the attack, in order to make sure that Camp X can't become involved in any attempt to prevent it.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Mr. McGregor confirmed.

“But we have to get word to Bill. Somebody has to go there and get him!”

Mr. McGregor looked at his watch. “It's almost nine. In this weather, along these roads, even if someone got there in time, it would be too late to send help.”

“But we have to try!”

“We'll try, but we may have to take matters into our own hands. Come, I have to question your prisoner.”

“You can't do that,” I said.

“Why not?”

“We had to use sleeping powder. We put it in her tea and knocked her out.”

“Brilliant!” he said. “But you and I will have to interrupt her beauty sleep.”

I'd thought he was going to be angry, so that wasn't the response I'd expected.

“Elsie,” he said to his wife, “you need to get dressed, take the car to Ralphie's house and send him in his truck straight away to Camp X.”

“Who's Ralphie? Can he be trusted?” I asked.

“Trusted with our lives,” Mr. McGregor said. “Tell them they need to come ASAP, that an attack is planned for midnight.”

“And that the attack is from the inside,” I said.

“Inside?”

“It's people who work at the plant. I think they're already there, and the explosives are already in place. I think it has to do with the steam plant and the service corridors that link it to all the buildings.”

“Good. Tell them to coordinate their efforts at that location and—”

“And tell them they can't come in through the gates,” I said. “Some of the Veteran Guard are enemy agents.”