V-S Day: A Novel of Alternate History (19 page)

NOVEMBER 17, 1942

Henry had plotted his escape well.

His first thought was to stay up late, waiting until everyone else went to bed before slipping out the door. He realized, though, that deviating from his usual behavior might make Sabatini and Arnold, the two FBI agents living in the lodge, suspicious; it was also possible that one of the other guys might decide to stay up with him. So he kept to the pattern the group had established over the past six weeks; shortly after ten o’clock, he put down his work, stood up and stretched, said good night to everyone, and shuffled upstairs to the bunk room.

He undressed, taking care to leave his clothes where he could easily find them in the dark, then read in bed while he waited for Gerry, Mike, Ham, and Taylor to come up as well. It wasn’t long before they did, and the five men made small talk until, one by one, their bedside lights went out, and the loft became dark and silent.

Henry lay quietly in bed, pretending to sleep but instead closely listening to everything around him. Sharing quarters with the other guys had always been a little hard—Mike and Ham snored, and Gerry was a restless sleeper—but just this once he was thankful for their habits; when the snoring began and Gerry finally stopped tossing and turning, he knew that they were fast asleep. And he’d never had to worry about Taylor; he was dead to the world as soon as he closed his eyes. From downstairs, he heard the faint sounds of Sabatini and Arnold moving around for a little while. He was afraid that they might leave their bedroom door open, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he heard it swing shut. And then the lodge became quiet.

Henry lay in the darkened loft for another hour and seven minutes—he knew how long because he was still wearing his watch with its luminous dial—and kept himself awake by listening to a barred owl hooting somewhere along the lakeshore—
who cooks for you, who cooks for yoooou?
—and trying to figure out how far away it was. At exactly midnight, he pushed aside the covers, sat up, and reached for his clothes. He was prepared to tell anyone who woke up that he was just going down to the kitchen for a glass of milk, but none of the other guys woke up as he passed their beds on the way out of the loft.

The hardest part was making his way downstairs. The steps tended to creak, so he had to go down slowly and carefully, putting as much weight as he could on the banister. But the rubber soles of his outdoor boots muffled his footsteps as he crept past the downstairs bedroom to the porch, and he managed to open the inside screen door without waking the FBI bodyguards.

Henry had left his jacket and hat on a porch chair. He put them on, then opened the outside screen door and, one cautious step at a time, walked down the back steps. He lingered for another moment outside the lodge, watching the windows to see if any lights came on. When they didn’t, he headed for the beach.

The lodge was furnished with a rowboat and a couple of wooden canoes. They lay overturned on the beach just a few feet from the water’s edge. The men had used them a few times until it became too cold to go out on the lake; yesterday, when he was sure no one was watching, Henry had taken a paddle from the basement and hidden it beneath the smaller of the two canoes. Still working as quietly as he could, he turned it right-side up, placed the paddle in the stern where he could get to it, and slid the canoe most of the way into the water.

Henry was about to climb in when he thought he saw something from the corner of his eye: a tiny spark of light, like a firefly that hadn’t yet noticed that summer was over. It seemed to come not from the lodge, though, but a little farther down the lakeshore, where the Goddards’ cabin was located.

He froze, peering into the darkness for any other movement. But the night remained dark and quiet, and after a while he decided his eyes were playing tricks on him. He climbed into the canoe, careful not to rock it enough to make any noise, and once he’d settled into the wicker seat in the stern, he picked up the paddle and used it to shove off.

It was a cold night but not windy; the air lay still upon Lake Monomonac, and he gradually warmed up once he started paddling. The half-moon shrouded by high clouds cast little light upon the waters, but nonetheless Henry stayed in the shadows of the lakeside trees until he was out of sight from the lodge. He paused for another moment or two, making sure that no lights had come on behind him; when he saw nothing and heard only his friend the owl, he decided once and for all that he’d made a clean getaway.

As the crow flies, Lake Monomonac’s western end was only a mile and half from the lodge, just around a bend on the northern side. The lake straddled the Massachusetts and New Hampshire borders; Route 202 crossed the state line at the tip of the lake, and it was there that a small tackle shop and marina were located. Henry had noticed the shop during one of his infrequent trips into town, and this was the place he picked for the rendezvous.

The arrangements had been tricky. He couldn’t send Doris a letter, and calling her from the lodge had been impossible. His break had come a couple of weeks ago, when he joined Esther and Agent Coolidge on a Saturday shopping trip. They usually bought groceries at the little general store in Rindge, but this time they needed to restock the pantry with more than what the Rindge store offered, so instead they drove to Jaffrey, the next-nearest town, where a large grocery store was located. As luck would have it, there was a telephone booth just outside. While Coolidge helped Esther pick fresh vegetables, Henry excused himself to find a restroom and instead made a quick trip to the phone booth.

A handful of dimes and five minutes was all he needed. Doris’s number was something he’d memorized a long time ago.

He thought that he’d have to wait for her, but when he finally reached the marina and tied up the canoe on the floating dock, a figure stepped out of the shadows behind the tackle shop. For a second, he thought that it might be a caretaker or even a town cop, but then he heard a soft voice call his name, and he realized that it was her.

The very fact that she’d even showed up meant that Doris still cared for him. Or at least so he hoped.

A quick hug and a kiss, then they went to her car, a six-year-old Ford coupe that she’d parked beneath the lonely streetlight in front of the tackle shop. “You’d better be grateful,” Doris said as she slid in behind the wheel. “This trip is going to use up the rest of my gas ration for the month.” She tapped a finger against the windshield sticker. “I’m probably going to have to take the trolley till after Thanksgiving because . . .”

“Thank you,” Henry said, then kissed her again.

She had many questions, of course, but Henry asked her to hold off until they found someplace where they could have a comfortable conversation. She reluctantly agreed, so they made small talk as she continued up Route 202, heading farther north into New Hampshire. There was almost no traffic on the highway that time of night; a pair of headlights appeared behind them as they drove through Rindge, but they paid no more attention to them than they did to the cars and trucks that periodically went by the other way.

There was nothing open in Jaffrey, so they went on to Peterborough, where they found a railcar diner in the center of town. The restaurant was an all-nighter catering to long-haul truck drivers; it was almost empty except for a couple of men hunched over the lunch counter and a middle-aged waitress who cheerfully greeted Henry and Doris as they came in and asked if they wanted coffee. They took a booth at the far end of the diner and waited until the waitress brought them two mugs of black coffee, but as soon as she was gone, Doris put down the paper menu she’d been pretending to study and stared across the table at Henry.

“Okay, out with it,” she said. “Where have you been the last seven weeks?”

Henry had tried to prepare himself for this very question. He’d rehearsed his answer countless times in his mind, seeking an answer that would be honest yet elusive. Now that the moment was here, though, he found himself tongue-tied. It was impossible to lie to those sharp green eyes.

“I’ve been working on something,” he said, which was all that he could manage. An irritated look crossed Doris’s face, and he quickly held up a hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right, that’s a lame excuse.” He took a deep breath, tried again. “I’ve been involved in an Army research project that Dr. Goddard had been running at the university. Very secret, stuff no one’s supposed to know about . . .”

“I know that already, remember?” Doris reached for the sugar dispenser, sifted a little into her coffee. “You said it was something you couldn’t talk about, so I let it go at that . . .”

“And I appreciate it. I really do.” Henry sipped his coffee. After the long, cold trip he’d made in the canoe, it was exactly what he needed to warm himself. He probably could have used a sandwich, too, but his stomach was full of butterflies. “You let me get away with . . . y’know, not telling you everything, so . . .”

“So now I need to know.” Doris didn’t look up as she added a dollop of milk to her cup. “I’m sorry, Henry, but you’re going to have to be a little more candid.”

“Doris . . .”

“No. Listen to me.” She slowly stirred the coffee, turning it light brown. “The last time we saw each other . . . last day of September, remember? . . . you said you were tired of sneaking around behind everyone’s backs and that it was time we had a real date together. You wanted to take me out to dinner, then go dancing or to a show, then”—a reddish glow appeared on her cheeks, but she still didn’t look at him—“well, whatever. And I said, yeah, sure, let’s pencil it in for next Saturday night. You said fine, we’ll do that . . .”

“And I meant it, too. Doris . . .”

“And then you kissed me good-bye right outside the library and went off to the Science Building, and that’s the last I saw of you. Not even a note or a phone call, just . . . nothing, no explanation. You vanished.”

Henry started to speak again, but she held up a hand. “Let me finish,” she said, and although her voice was still soft, it now had an unmistakable quaver. “You disappeared without a trace. When I didn’t hear from you for a few days, I went over to the Science Building and asked around, and people told me that Dr. Goddard had taken a leave of absence . . . health problems, they said . . . and that the advanced-level course he’d been teaching had been canceled. Then I went over to the place on Birch Street where you were staying, but the
FOR RENT
sign was up, and the landlord told me that everyone who’d been living there had just moved out.”

She started to pick up the coffee, but her hand shook so much that she had to put it down again. She took a deep breath, nervously adjusted her glasses, and went on. “Do you know what that did to me, Henry? Finding someone who I really like . . . and I got to tell you, I’ve always had a hard time trusting men, but you . . . and then you just dropped me like . . . like . . .”

“Doris, I’m sorry.” Henry reached across the table and tried to take her hand, but she jerked it away. Behind him, the cowbell dangling from the door jangled and he felt a cool breeze against the back of his neck. “Really, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t want to go away, but . . . look, something came up, and I didn’t have a . . .”

“Hello, Henry,” a familiar voice said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Henry felt the blood rush from his face. Doris’s eyes widened as she stared past him at the woman who’d just come in. Henry looked around and found Esther Goddard standing next to the table.

“Esther,” he murmured, not quite believing she was there. “What are you . . . ?”

“This isn’t a coincidence.” She smiled, hands in the pockets of the plaid wool hunting jacket her husband had bought for her shortly after they’d relocated to the hunting lodge. “I followed you. In fact, I’ve been trailing you since the minute you got in that canoe.”

The tiny spark he’d spotted from the direction of the Goddards’ cabin, like someone’s lighting a cigarette. The headlights behind Doris’s car all the way from Rindge. No other explanations were needed, except . . .

“Who else is here?” Henry turned his head to peer out the window. “Is Bob . . . ?”

“No. He was asleep when I stepped out for a smoke, and I don’t think he woke up when I took the car. Insomnia sometimes has its advantages, don’t you think?”

“Who are you?” Doris was glaring at her, confusion wrestling with anger. Her gaze shifted to Henry. “Is this why you . . . ?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.” Esther offered a hand. “I’m Mrs. Robert Goddard. I’m a friend of Henry’s . . . an old friend.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.” Doris didn’t take her hand, and there was no mistaking the suspicion in her voice.

Coarse laughter from the two drivers seated nearby. They’d turned their heads a little, indiscreetly observing the confrontation. “Guy’s got dame trouble,” one of them muttered. The waitress kept her back to them, chatting quietly with the cook through the kitchen window. Esther glared at the drivers until they looked away, then she returned her attention to Doris.

“A friend and nothing more,” Esther said, “so whatever you’re thinking, it can’t be further from the truth. May I sit down, please?”

Doris didn’t budge, so it was up to Henry to slide to one side and give Esther a place at the table. “You must be Doris, right?” she said once she’d sat down. “I’ve heard about you . . . not from Henry, I might add, but from the . . . well, the people who’ve been assigned to protect us.”

“Protect you?” Doris stared at her. Her anger was dissipating, but she was still confused.

“Uh-huh. Him, me, my husband, and everyone else who came up here from Worcester.” The waitress started to approach the table, but Esther shook her head and waved her off, and she retreated to the other side of the counter. “When they found out about you and Henry,” she went on, leaning forward a little and lowering her voice, “they checked up on you, just to make sure that . . . well, you’re what you appear to be and nothing else.” A quiet smile. “I’m glad you are. Henry’s needed to find someone like you for quite some time now. I just wish we could have met under different circumstances.”