fight for years. Sam, do you know what it’s like to see children at your school, children in what’s supposed to be the richest and safest nation in the world, wearing scraps of blankets? To see brothers and sisters take turns eating breakfast because there’s not enough food at home? And who’s helping them?
“But what—”
She shook her head, furious. “So when I’m told to prepare for a guest from that scheduled train, I do just that. And when I’m told to give myself up to the FBI so that you do what has to be done for the greater good, whatever that is, then I do it. I’m sorry, and maybe you don’t believe me, but I didn’t know it was going to end with Tony being killed. And I didn’t know Tony was going to try to shoot Hitler. I just knew he was in terrible danger, that he was part of something I belonged to as well.”
“And what about Toby?”
She looked toward the boy’s bedroom, and her sharp voice faltered. “He’s a brave boy. A very brave boy… He did what I asked him to do, whether it was delivering messages or trusting his mother, and I wish he had a brave father to look up to.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
Her sad eyes pierced him. “What do you think? From what you’ve told me, what I’ve seen in the papers, Tony was ready to sacrifice all to get himself killed in an attempt to assassinate Hitler to draw attention from what was being planned for that bastard Long, and there you are,
“I was doing my job,” he countered, knowing how weak it sounded.
“That’s some job you’ve got there, Sam Miller.” She walked away from him, then turned, eyes wet with tears. “I’m going to my dad’s place, Sam. And I’m taking Toby with me.”
He was chilled, as if his blood had been replaced by salt water from the harbor. “For how long?”
“However long it takes for me to think things through. I need to be with someone committed to our fight, someone who wants to change things, to make things better. You’re just part of the system, and… and I’m not sure if I can live with someone like that. Over the years, you’ve done some things here and there—giving money to refugee kids, looking the other way at our basement station, ignoring some of the stupid laws from D.C.—but I need more.”
“Sarah, you’ve got to—”
“Sam, please,” she interrupted. “I feel guilty about a lot of things, and one of those things is your brother. Right now I want Toby to be proud of his dead uncle, a man who sacrificed himself for everything, and I’m not sure what Toby has to be proud of when he sees you. And I don’t like feeling that way.”
“So your dad’s place is the answer?”
Again a sad look that went right through him. “I don’t see why not. I’ve always trusted Dad even when you’ve had nothing but contempt for him. I admire him, too. He’s put everything on the line to do what’s right.”
Then it made sense. The visit to the store days ago from the man called Eric the Red. The encounter at the island:
Sam said, “Your dad is your connection, isn’t he? The one who told you what to do. On the surface, he’s a full-fledged member of the Party. Underneath, he’s something else.”
“Very good, Inspector. You figured that out all on your own.”
With his newly minted inspector’s badge weighing in his coat pocket, he found he could not say a word. And what about Pierce Island, he thought, should he tell her about Pierce Island and her father and the sailor?
No, that would sound like cheap revenge and nothing else.
Again saying words he couldn’t believe he was saying. “So you’re off to be with your father, your resistance leader.”
“For now.”
He could hear the sobs from his son, weeping over his shattered models, crying over the broken dream that his father could protect him.
“Tell Toby… tell him I have to go out on a case, all right? I don’t want to make a scene. Tell him I’ll make it all right.”
Her arms folded tight against her chest, she didn’t reply. He went to the door, stopped. “You’re pretty good at thinking you know what drives me and what I do, but in the past few days, I’ve seen things and done things I can’t tell you about, Sarah. Important things that have made more of a difference than you and your friends could ever dream of.”
“So says you,” she said coldly.
“Yeah, so says me,” he said. “And despite what you think now, we can work this out. It’ll take time, but I know we can work it out.”
“I’m not so sure, Sam. I’m really not. It would take a lot.”
“Okay,” he said. “I get the message. It’ll take a lot, and that’s what I’ll do.”
Outside, the damp air from the harbor chilled him.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
The day was cold and windy, and Sam stood by himself on a knoll at the Calvary Cemetery in Portsmouth, near the border of the small town of Greenland. The previous night he had once again slept in Hanson’s office. He drew his coat closer, watching the ceremony finish up. There was a plain wooden casket, and a priest was saying prayers over the mangled body of his brother. Except for two cemetery workers standing by themselves, shovels in hand, this part of the cemetery was empty. The ceremony was supposed to be secret, but somehow the news had gotten out.
On the other side of the iron gates there were newspaper reporters and a couple of newsreel crews, all eager to record the burial of the attempted assassin of Adolf Hitler, but the priest—his parish priest, Father Mullen from St. James Church—had denied them entrance. Sam supposed he should have attempted to tell Sarah about the funeral, but he was going to let that rest for now. Sarah would have to mourn Tony at her own time and pace. And he wasn’t surprised that he was the only mourner present. Being known as an associate of an assassin, someone who almost destroyed the summit that promised so much, was just too dangerous.
The priest finished, made a sign of the cross, and then came over, his vestments flapping in the breeze. Sam shook his hand and said, “Thanks, Father. I appreciate that.”
The priest nodded. “I knew your brother back when he was active in the shipyard, trying to make things better for the workers.”
Sam felt the words stick in his throat, knowing his brother and what he had done. “Excuse me for saying this, Father, but he could be a pain in the ass. But sometimes he was a good man, wasn’t he?”
“We’re all good men, Sam. But these are trying times, and all of us sometimes make compromises, sometimes make decisions… It’s not an easy time.”
Sam watched as the cemetery workers came out and, with a set of straps, lowered his brother’s body into the unmarked grave. He didn’t answer the priest.
He stood there for a while, then started walking to another gate of the cemetery, where he could avoid the crowd of reporters. He saw a man standing near a solitary pine tree. The man was watching him, and Sam changed direction to join him.
“Hello, Doc,” Sam said. “Sorry I’ve been avoiding you. It’s been a shitty few days.”
Dr. William Saunders, the county medical examiner, nodded in reply. “Yeah, it sure has. Sorry about your brother.”
“Thanks.”
