“The kidnappers have given Jason forty-eight hours unless we can produce the rest of the HEU. A few hours have passed already. If the stuff is there, I need to find it before they do.”
“HEU?”
“Highly enriched uranium. Maybe I can get my bearings, see the lighthouse beam coming through the fort’s watchtower. If I can find what the Germans buried that night, it will corroborate what your grandfather saw.”
Glenda looked at her watch. “It’s almost 8:00. Billy wasn’t killed until almost midnight. If you are trying to follow the evening as close as it was when he saw the men on that beach, you need to wait a few more hours.”
“I don’t have a few more hours.”
“Please,” said Glenda, touching O’Brien’s arm, “stay for coffee. The caffeine will help your vision on Rattlesnake Island. How do you take it?”
“Black’s fine, thanks.”
“Let’s take our coffee out on the back patio for a few minutes. It’s such a nice evening. I’ll tell you a quick story about Billy.”
O’Brien started to excuse himself to leave, but her face was aglow with trust, her spirit rising above the cancerous tissue and signaling the need to be heard-for Billy to be understood.
“Okay,” O’Brien said.
“Good,” nodded Glenda, holding her coffee cup in two weathered hands and stepping to a door leading into the backyard.
Abby beamed a wide smile. “We’ll join you outside in a moment, Grandma.” The old woman smiled and started humming as she walked slowly to the French doors. “My grandmother is humming, Sean. She only does that when she’s very comfortable. She’s at ease around you. She likes you and believes you can help.”
“She never remarried, right?”
Abby held her eyes on O’Brien, and then she looked at the photograph on the wall for a second before letting her gaze drift back up to O’Brien’s face. “She never found the right man. Not that she would compare every fella to Granddad. She knew what she wanted, what she had, and she didn’t want to compromise or settle for less.”
“I don’t want to sound crude, but do the doctors know how much time she has?”
“A year ago, they gave her three to six months. She’s still here. You go out there, slay a few dragons at sea, and then bring her something our government has refused to and what none of her doctors could.”
“What do I bring her?”
“Hope.”
“Please, I don’t want you or your grandmother to have any illusions about what was found in that submarine. Today, a young woman died. She was about the same age as your grandfather at his death. A German U-boat and a deadly cargo seem to be the cosmic path between the two, but like any theory of the universe, I don’t know what, how, or if it’s connected.”
“Hope is eternal and universal.” Abby pointed to a black-and-white framed photograph of a young man smiling and dressed in an Army uniform. “That’s my grandpa. He looks too young there to be a grandfather, but Grandma was carrying his baby, my mother, when that picture was taken. Mom and I should have had the privilege of knowing him, and that sweet lady out there still misses him and deserves to know who killed him.”
“I agree, Abby. But, two canisters of enriched uranium are missing. A kid I gave a summer job to is being held hostage. I don’t know if coming here tonight may be placing you and your grandmother in danger, too. You need to be on alert”
“What do you mean?”
“I was followed earlier. I lost them, but they could be back.”
“Do you believe anyone followed you here tonight?”
“I don’t think so. But, nevertheless, I want you and your grandmother to be very aware of your surroundings. They may have tortured Jason, and he could have mentioned you and your grandmother by name. He heard me tell the story of what happened to your grandfather.”
Abby hugged her arms. A shiver went through her body. “Let’s join Grandma.”
Glenda looked up as Abby and O’Brien appeared and said, “I was just listening to a nightingale across the yard in the live oak. The male nightingale is the singer, you know? When most birds are long into their nightly roost, he’s throwing his head back like the fine Italian tenor Caruso.” She paused and listened. “Hear him?”
“I haven’t heard a nightingale in a while,” O’Brien said. “At my place on the river, I hear owls at night.” O’Brien could smell gardenias blooming in the yard, the scent musky and yet feminine. He looked at Abby’s striking profile under the soft light, and admired her dedication and love for her grandmother.
She sat down by Glenda. “Grandma, Sean was just telling me about a lot of the things … really bad things that have happened since he found the U-boat. We, you and I, just need to be careful who we speak to and where we go.”
“What do you mean?”
“Glenda,” O’Brien began, “there are some very forceful people who want to get their hands on weapons- grade uranium. Nick and I hooked our anchor on the past and may have opened a door leading back to your husband. I feel responsible for what’s happened the last six days.”
“I hope you can find these people.”
“I’m going to try.”
“Maybe, when you do, in some way, it’ll shed light on a sad, dark place in my heart.”
“How do we exhume my grandfather’s body?” asked Abby.
O’Brien said, “I have a detective friend at the sheriff’s department. He’ll ask for a court order. Then the medical examiner will have a look.”
“How long will this take?” asked Glenda.
“It can be expedited, done within couple of days.”
O’Brien stood. “Thank you both for dinner.”
Glenda smiled and coughed. “It’s getting a little cool. I think I’ll go inside and read some before bed.” O’Brien opened the French doors and Glenda entered her home just as the nightingale began another song. “Good night, sweet bird, sing one more for me,” she said, vanishing into the house.
“Let me walk you to your Jeep,” Abby said
“That’s not necessary. I’ll just walk around the side yard and be on my way.”
“Please, I insist.” She strolled around a birdbath and the blooming bougainvillea.
“Wait, you are a stubborn lady.”
She paused, looked back, and smiled. “Yes, yes I am. Now, are you going to walk with me or stand there listening to the bird sing?”
O’Brien grinned. “What I’m going to do is walk you to your front door. When you go inside, make sure everything’s locked and the alarm’s set.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“Yes.”
At the front door she said, “Thank you for being such a good listener around my grandmother. I’m here as often as I can. She gets lonely.”
“I enjoyed her company, and yours.”
“I guess this is where we say goodnight.” She paused and looked up at O’Brien, the smolder of a three- quarter moon casting them in a serene glow. “Thank you for doing what you didn’t have to do. After all these years, you come along and really give a damn. Hopefully, you’re the one to right this wrong. I admire that, Sean.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Yes, you have. You’ve given her hope. Tonight, she’ll sleep better.”
“Goodnight, Abby.”
As O’Brien started to leave, she said, “Sean ….”
He turned back to her. “Yes?”
She laughed nervously. “Maybe it’s the wine … maybe it’s the damn nightingale singing his silly head off … or maybe I’m just afraid something will happen to you out there tonight. Please be very careful.”
O’Brien was silent. He thought he heard a car engine on the next street.
She said, “Let me go with you. I can help-”
