“There’s an Austrian woman—another refugee from the Nazis, by the way—called Lise Meitner, working in Copenhagen, who managed to break the uranium atom into two smaller atoms, barium and krypton.”
“I thought atoms were indivisible.”
“So did we all, until recently. That’s what’s so amazing. It makes a very big bang when it happens, which is why the military are so interested. If they can control the process, they’ll be able to make the most destructive bomb ever known.”
Nancy looked back over her shoulder at the frightened, shabby man with the burning gaze. The most destructive bomb ever known, she said to herself, and she shivered. “I’m surprised they let him walk around unguarded,” she said.
“I’m not sure he is unguarded,” Mervyn said. “Look at that chap.”
Following the direction of Mervyn’s nod, Nancy looked across the street. Another Clipper passenger was idling along on his own: a tall, hefty man in a bowler hat and a gray suit with a wine red waistcoat. “Do you think that’s his bodyguard?” she said.
Mervyn shrugged. “The man looks like a copper to me. Hartmann may not know it, but I’d say he’s got a guardian angel in size twelve boots.”
Nancy had not thought Mervyn was that observant.
“I think this must be the bar,” Mervyn said, switching from the cosmic to the mundane without pausing for breath. He stopped at the door.
“Good luck,” Nancy said. She meant it. In a funny way she had grown to like him, despite his infuriating ways.
He smiled. “Thanks. Good luck to you, too.”
He went inside and Nancy continued along the street.
At the far end, across the road from the harbor, was an ivy-grown building larger than anything else in the village. Inside, Nancy found a makeshift office and a good-looking young man in a Pan American uniform. He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, even though he had to be fifteen years her junior.
“I want to buy a ticket to New York,” she told him.
He was surprised and intrigued. “Is that so! We don’t generally sell tickets here—in fact, we don’t have any.”
That did not sound like a serious problem. She smiled at him: a smile always helped in overcoming trivial bureaucratic obstacles. “Well, a ticket is only a piece of paper,” she said. “If I give you the fare, I guess you’ll let me on the plane, won’t you?”
He grinned. She figured he would oblige her if he could. “I guess so,” he said. “But the plane is full.”
“Hell!” she muttered. She felt crushed. Had she gone through all this for nothing? But she was not yet ready to give up, not by a long shot. “There must be something,” she said. “I don’t need a bed. I’ll sleep in a seat. Even a crew seat would do.”
“You can’t take a crew seat. The only thing vacant is the honeymoon suite.”
“Can I take that?” she said hopefully.
“Why, I don’t even know what price to charge—”
“But you could find out, couldn’t you?”
“I guess it has to cost at least as much as two regular fares, and that would make it seven hundred and fifty bucks one way, but it could be more.”
She didn’t care if it cost seven thousand dollars. “I’ll give you a blank check,” she said.
“Boy, you really want to ride this airplane, don’t you?”
“I have to be in New York tomorrow. It’s ... very important.” She could not find words to express how important it was.
“Let’s go check with the captain,” the boy said. “This way please, ma’am.”
Nancy followed him, wondering whether she had been wasting her efforts on someone who did not have the authority to make a decision.
He led her to an upstairs office. Six or seven of the Clipper’s crew were there in their shirtsleeves, smoking and drinking coffee while they studied charts and weather reports. The young man introduced her to Captain Marvin Baker. When the handsome captain shook her hand, she had the oddest feeling that he was going to take her pulse, and she realized it was because he had a doctor’s bedside manner.
The young fellow said: “Mrs. Lenehan needs to get to New York real bad, Captain, and she’s willing to pay for the honeymoon suite. Can we take her?”
Nancy waited anxiously for the reply, but the captain asked another question. “Is your husband with you, Mrs. Lenehan?”
She fluttered her eyelashes, always a useful move when you were hoping to persuade a man to do something. “I’m a widow, Captain.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have any baggage?”
“Just this overnight case.”
“We’ll be glad to take you to New York, Mrs. Lenehan,” he said.
“Thank God,” Nancy said fervently. “I can’t tell you how important it is to me.” For a moment her knees felt weak. She sat in the nearest chair. She was embarrassed about feeling so emotional. To cover up, she rummaged in her handbag and took out her checkbook. With a shaky hand she signed a blank check and gave it to the young man.
Now it was time to confront Peter.
“I saw some passengers in the village,” she said. “Where would the rest of them be?”
“Most are in Mrs. Walsh’s pub,” the young man said. “It’s a bar in this building. The entrance is around the side.”
She stood up. The shaky spell had passed. “I’m much obliged to you,” she said.
“Glad to be able to help.”
She went out.
As she closed the door she heard a buzz of comment break out, and she knew they were making ribald remarks about an attractive widow who could afford to sign blank checks.
She went outside. It was a mild afternoon with weak sunlight, and the air was pleasantly damp with the salty taste of the sea. Now she had to look for her faithless brother.
She went around to the side of the building and entered the bar.
It was the kind of place into which she would never normally go: small, dark, roughly furnished, very masculine. Clearly it was originally intended to serve beer to fishermen and farmers, but now it was full of millionaires drinking cocktails. The atmosphere was stuffy, and the noise level was high in several languages: there was something of a party atmosphere among the passengers. Was it her imagination, or was there a faintly hysterical note in the laughter? Did the jollification mask anxiety about the long flight over the ocean?
She scanned the faces and spotted Peter.
He did not notice her.
She stared at him for a moment, anger boiling up inside her. She felt her cheeks flush with rage. She had a powerful urge to slap his face. But she suppressed her fury. She would not show him how upset she was. It was always smarter to play it cool.
He was sitting in a comer, and Nat Ridgeway was with him. That was another shock. Nancy had known Nat was in Paris for the collections, but it had not occurred to her that he might fly back with Peter. She wished he were not here. The presence of an old flame just complicated matters. She would have to forget that she had once kissed him. She put the thought out of her mind.
She pushed through the crowd and went up to their table. Nat was the first to look up. His face showed shock and guilt, which gave her some satisfaction. Noticing his expression, Peter looked up.
Nancy met his eye.
He went pale and started up out of his chair. “Good Christ!” he exclaimed. He looked scared to death.
“Why are you so frightened, Peter?” Nancy said contemptuously.
He swallowed hard and sank back into his seat.
Nancy said: “You actually paid for a ticket on the S.S.
