Kisses Like a Devil Page 18

  “So Sazonov was right all along, Liesel: she’s been selling herself to the American. Bah!” Gerhardt spat.

  “I have not!” Meredith spun on him. “He asked but I refused. And he didn’t press me. It’s Sazonov, the Russian, you should worry about.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s always been our friend, unlike you.” Liesel hunched her shoulder and turned up her nose.

  “Me? I’ve fought for the workers and the revolution for years.” She stared at her old companion, baffled by the accusation.

  “You’re a foreigner and you’re sleeping with a foreigner. How can we trust you?” Liesel sneered.

  “Give us the blueprints and we’ll forgive you,” Franz leaned forward, his eyes far too eager.

  Instinct gagged her tongue. Why would she need forgiveness?

  “We have much more to fight for now,” Erich said softly. “Sazonov says…”

  “We must be trained.”

  Training? What did Eisengau need from Russia?

  Liesel cast Franz a brief smile before glaring once again at Meredith. “In Russia, where they understand how to do such things well.”

  “Russia? What about the workers?” People like Meyer and Brecht and their children, who need help now before anyone else was crippled or died?

  “They can wait.” Franz waved such trifles off.

  But he’d always been the first one to argue for haste! Meredith clenched her fists.

  “The election isn’t very important, as long as we have the blueprints, according to Sazonov.”

  Franz truly was writing off the revolution. In that case, the same to him. A debate’s welcome chill settled into her veins.

  “No, I’m afraid not.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Silence blanketed the room, backed by hostile, glittering eyes. Meredith cursed the honesty which had led her to tell the unvarnished truth. Morro growled deep in his throat.

  “It’s the American.” Why couldn’t somebody here believe what she said—and have that person be Liesel?

  Meredith slammed the door on one part of her past and kept fighting.

  “No, it’s because of the workers. Can’t you see Sazonov and the Russians only want the blueprints, not us? Not a new government in Eisengau?” She choked back the lump in her throat. “The minute they have them, they’ll drop all interest in Eisengau—and the workers will be worse off than before. I can’t do that.”

  “Ridiculous. They can buy the guns, as they always have.” Gerhardt shook his head.

  “He tried to seduce me into giving him the blueprints,” Meredith countered.

  “Liar!” Liesel shrieked. “Jealous bitch!”

  Meredith slapped her, knocking her oldest female friend onto the floor.

  All the times they’d studied, or shopped, or giggled together—destroyed by one vicious epithet, and everything she’d said before. Meredith had once called Liesel the sister of her heart. Tonight’s loss ran too deep for tears.

  Silence caught the room, broken only by Liesel’s gasping sobs. Meredith turned around slowly, hoping somebody would try logic.

  “You’re wrong because Sazonov has always told us the truth. You’re blinded by your foolish feminine lusts.” Franz dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “We’re willing to forgive you, if you bring us the blueprints like a good girl.”

  He was the male leader of their little clan but all he could offer was a demand for feminine subjugation. He should have known better after twelve years.

  Rosa helped Liesel onto her feet and they clung together, backed by the men.

  Meredith spoke between gritted teeth. “I think I’d best be going now.”

  “If you leave now, don’t bother to come back. Even if you brought a set of plans, we wouldn’t believe they were genuine.”

  “You foolish, strutting cockerel.” She shook her head. “I hope you soon learn just how little you truly mean to Russia. Come, Morro.”

  Brian refused to pace. Mother had to be alive, deep in the blockhouse’s bowels. No, inside the magazine by now. Just as Meredith had to be doing well. His heart would know in an instant if its reason for living had ended.

  Instead he ran his hand over the great cannon and stared out the narrow firing slit to the lake. The wheel alone reached his shoulder. Three other guns loomed behind him, every one more than double his height. But the cavernous stone vault swallowed them up and even provided a balcony to admire them from.

  God help the fellow who went to war against these devils.

  Outside, the grand duke’s yacht was circling the lake, while its orchestra played an endless collection of tunes from Viennese operettas, the grand duke sang, and Zorndorf conducted the orchestra. The passengers were openly engaged in drinking, fornication, or both. Brian had been warned the grand duke occasionally used the pictures for blackmail. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen Gareth there. At least his friend was safe from that nightmare.

  “Five minutes,” Father announced. He looked up from his pocket watch, his face ghastly in the silvery moonlight. “Are you sure your map of the ventilation shaft was accurate?”

  Brian’s breath hissed out, like a dying balloon. “How can I be sure since I couldn’t check it? It’s what they told me when I paid to observe a full day’s effort here. But I’m too tall to know for sure. Only Mother—” He stopped abruptly.

  “You were right: only your mother could slip inside the inspection port.” His father swallowed convulsively.

  Brian closed his eyes then turned to watch the lake again. He hadn’t seen Father wear that expression since Mother was desperately ill after Marlowe and Spenser were born. He gave his stomach ten seconds to stop flopping like a landed trout before he spoke. “We know she entered the magazine and didn’t get stuck in the magazine because she untied the rope from her waist. So all we have to do now is wait.”

  “Marlowe and Spenser can handle everything outside, no matter how long this takes.”

  “They’re doing very well,” Brian agreed, eager to remove at least one source of anxiety. His own worries about Meredith would remain private. At least she had Morro with her and that dog could fight off a platoon.

  He glowered at the tumbler lock on the door, which neither he nor Father could open. If it had been designed differently—if they didn’t need Mother to open the door from the unlocked inside—she’d be waiting safely back with the horses.

  Scratch! Scratch! The door sighed once then swung wide.

  “Sorry I’m late, darling.” Mother fumbled to turn off her lantern. “The magazine was much more crowded than I expected.”

  Brian grinned, a band loosening around his heart.

  Father swooped her up into his arms. Somehow her light landed upright, despite her complete disregard for it.

  Brian picked it up, careful to stay out of his parents’ way. If Neil had been here, they’d been placing bets on how long it would take before Father carried Mother upstairs to bed. But that wasn’t an option tonight.

  He had another, more urgent question to answer: Why had she said the magazine was crowded? She knew explosives well enough to guess what four great guns would need for support.

  He stepped into the great vault his mother had just come out of and began scanning it with the lantern’s beam.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” He crossed himself.

  “What’s wrong, Brian?” Father had come alert again.

  “The shells are stacked to the ceiling and the room looks as tall and wide as this one. The racks are very close together.” He swallowed, his skin growing colder and colder. “How far back do they go, Mother?”

  “Farther than where I came in. My guess is they reach almost to the railroad blockhouse.” She shivered and pressed closer to her husband. “There’s another storey beneath this one, too, which reaches deep inside the mountain.”

  “They must store all the ammunition for both the Eisengau 155s and the French 75s here,” Brian muttered, appalled. It was more than twice as mu
ch as he’d expected.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Father murmured. “How much of the mountain will go when we blow this up? Are we sure there’s nobody working on the railroad side?”

  “Yes, I’m certain. I veered into that direction and listened.”

  “Well, nobody will raise these four demons from their graves when we’re done, lad.” Father chuckled humorlessly. “Fetch Marlowe and Spenser in here; we’ll need their help if we’re to wire all of this before the first shift arrives for the railroad. We’ll also need to move the sentries someplace where they can escape at the proper time.”

  “Aye, sir.” He saluted instinctively.

  If—when—he survived this, he was going to find Meredith and tell her he loved her. He’d been a fool to forget that before. Then he’d spend the rest of his life protecting her, whatever that meant and wherever it led him.

  Because life wasn’t worth living without the one you loved. Anybody who doubted that could ask his parents.

  Meredith blinked back another round of angry, foolish tears. Maybe she should have known Franz and Liesel and the others were better at talk than action. But she’d hoped for so much more to help the workers. Now she’d have to do what she could.

  She took another turn along the trail, instinct and long habit driving her, and emerged between two high fences. Trees whispered over their tops, almost obscuring the moon.

  She’d have to reclaim the blueprints first, since she was only a few miles away from the capital where they were. And she’d have to figure out how to get them out of the country…

  Morro growled deep in his throat.

  Meredith came to an abrupt halt, her heart leaping into her mouth. Maybe there was another option.

  Her mother and Judge Baumgart stood in the small alley, watching her with equally hostile expressions.

  “If you’re here to ask for forgiveness, you’re knocking on the wrong door—unless you come as Frau Zorndorf, young lady.” Judge Baumgart patted his wife’s hand. “Correct, my dear?”

  “As ever, my love.” A chill breeze brushed Meredith’s shoulders and shifted the trees, brightening the street. Her mother’s eyes were crystal-clear and diamond-hard. “She is no daughter of mine.”

  “But Mother! You always said Colonel Zorndorf would be an impossible husband for any woman. Don’t you understand I did what I had to, in order to stop the betrothal?”

  “I know you refused to help your family.”

  “Mother…” Meredith bit her lip against a whimper.

  “If you marry him, we’ll be received at court. A post as high-court justice is splendid but the American gave that to us, not you.”

  No, this wasn’t warmth. Brian had showed her what that meant. He’d always supported her, even when she’d argued bitterly with him. She did not have to accept this.

  “You’re saying that unless I prostitute myself, I’m worthless.”

  “Prostitute? Now, see here, young lady,” the Judge tried to interrupt.

  “If that’s your definition of a daughter, then I’m glad I’m not one. Goodbye.”

  She spun on her heel and headed back the way she came, refusing to run until she’d rounded the corner. Morro followed her, walking backwards and barking. He was finally free to express his opinion of his old enemies.

  She didn’t answer her parents’ shouts.

  Maybe someday she’d stop crying when she remembered the good times—her mother singing her to sleep as a little girl, or laughing when she fell into a flowerbed, or beaming when she recited a poem for one of Father’s fellow professors. Because who knew how many tears she’d shed before she saw her brothers again? It might take months, or even years, but she had to believe she would—even though her throat was tight and raw.

  Morro shoved his nose into her hand, whining softly. She choked and stooped down to wrap her arms around his neck. He leaned closer, lending her the strength of his steady heartbeat and understanding, while she trembled.

  At least she still had dear, darling Morro to remind her that love was unconditional.

  “Good boy, Morro, good boy.” She rubbed his sides and he licked her eagerly, wagging his tail and bringing a slow smile to her face.

  She rose and turned for the trolley to the capital, the only transportation still running at this late hour. Thankfully, Brian had given her pocket money in case she missed the launch and had to take the train.

  She had to fetch the blueprints and do something to help the workers with them. They were Eisengau’s treasure, nobody else’s; they needed to be used for Eisengau’s benefit.

  And then she’d find Brian and beg him to hold her.

  The fuse stretched across the path like a snake, warning all comers not to tread on it. The moon was fading behind the mountains, dimming before the coming dawn. There was nobody else around. Even the small animal noises had faded to silence in the pre-dawn hush. Perhaps they’d read the humans’ intentions and fled.

  But the orchestra aboard the grand duke’s yacht had been replaced by a brass band. It was now loudly—and badly—playing a possibly military march, erratically guided by Zorndorf using a saber for a conductor’s baton. The grand duke was the center of one of the orgies’ more salacious groupings.

  Mother and the twins were hidden a mile away uphill, near the train station.

  Brian finished tightening the fuse and shut the cover, lifting the handle. When it connected again, all of the charges would go off, sending a complicated signal inside the magazine and triggering every shell to explode.

  Had anyone ever detonated that much firepower before?

  “Care to make a guess how much of the mountain we’re going to lose?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

  “We’ll have a loud bang. The blockhouse will be gone. Maybe not just drop into the lake—but gone.”

  All of that heavy stone disappear? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they certainly would have a very big noise.

  At least they’d hauled the sentries well beyond the railroad blockhouse, carrying them over the horses’ backs like sacks of grain. They were sure to be discovered there, when Eisengau’s army came to investigate.

  “After that?”

  “Who knows?” His father shrugged. “The entire cliff underneath goes into the lake? The hillside above as far as that knoll? Maybe to the ridge line on the south? Or…”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Care to make a bet?” Father shot back promptly. “Dinner for two at a restaurant of my choice against…”

  “Dinner for two.” The family had always settled arguments by gambling with food, usually dinners in Chinatown. But he couldn’t claim that for Meredith. He might be eating sausage in Europe for a long time to come.

  He hoped his smile looked like a cocky grin. “Care to set it off?”

  “Your job—and then we’ll both run for our lives.”

  Brian nodded curtly, not trusting his voice, and stood up. He wrapped his hands around the metal handle, flexing his fingers until he was certain he had the best possible grip. He rolled his shoulders, ensuring he’d pounce solidly on his enemy at the right time.

  These guns had to die so the Americans in Alaska would live.

  “Thanks for being here.” Brian looked back for a moment at the man who’d given him life.

  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, son.” William Donovan gripped him on the shoulder and gave him the thumbs-up.

  Brian took a deep breath. “Five, four, three, two, one…”

  He slammed the handle down, firing the charges.

  BOOM!

  Light rippled down the fuse and into the blockhouse, almost faster than he could see, despite a lifetime’s experience.

  BOOM!!! KERBOOM! KERBOOM!!!

  Light blasted out of the blockhouse’s window slits. Cordite’s acrid stench slammed into his face and drove into his lungs. The ground shook underfoot, staggering him. Rocks rattled and boulders heaved.

  Sweet singing Jesus, how long could an explosion last
?

  His father grabbed him by the elbow and heaved him into motion, hurling him sideways. Their feet skidded on the suddenly slippery pavement.

  KERBOOOOOMMMMM!!!

  The blast roared upwards from the mountain’s roots through Brian’s spine and out his skull.

  He froze.

  Father caught him around the waist and hauled him forward, heading not uphill but for a narrow finger of rock on the side. “Run, you damn ox, run!”

  Brian staggered again but obeyed, his legs gradually moving faster and faster.

  The mountain thundered again. Dust exploded into the air, covering the trees and sky.

  They leaped onto the granite and rolled across it, taking shelter on the other side like children hiding from an ogre.

  Brian peered through the swirling clouds of gray ash, choking and coughing.

  CRACK!

  The cliff split away, taking away the blockhouse above it—and undercutting its parent mountain. SPLASH!

  The mountain trembled.

  CRACK, CRACK, CRACK! Great lines appeared in the hillside.

  KERACK!!! The hillside collapsed upon itself and slid, accelerating faster and faster until it fell into the lake.

  SPLASH!!!

  Water leaped high, three times as high as a man, and raced across the lake. Grand Duke Rudolph’s yacht rolled over, emitting a wild burst of brazen cacophony. Only its hull could be seen and the waves pounded it mercilessly, shattering the fragile wood against the cliff. It sank in a blur of splinters and roiling waters, without trace of human hand or voice.

  The white-edged waters raced around the shore, ravenously seeking for prey. They smashed trees, dislodged boulders, swept back to the blockhouse’s original site—and found an outlet.

  “No!” Brian ran to the rib’s edge and peered out, straining to see all the way downriver to the capital.

  The Eisenfluss River’s narrow channel rebuilt the wave. It hurled itself forward, faster and faster, wiping out the few trees which had braved its rocky cliffs. It burst into the capital’s wider waters and spiraled outward again—seeking and finding the tiny entrance to Altstadt. A tall oak swayed and fell into the torrent, just before the angry waves disappeared.