Kate wandered out of the wood-floored room, into the hallway.
“Dr. Kate!” Milo said as he jogged up to meet her. He stopped just short of her, put his hands on his knees and panted until he caught his breath. “I’m sorry, Dr. Kate. I was… I had to work on my special project.”
“Special project? Milo, you don’t have to meet me every morning.”
“I know. I want to,” the teenager said as he regained his breath.
They walked together down the open-air wooden passageways toward David’s room.
“What are you working on, Milo?”
He shook his head. “I cannot say, Dr. Kate.”
Kate wondered if it was another prank. When they reached David’s room, Milo bowed and departed, sprinting in the direction he’d come from.
David’s condition had barely changed, although Kate thought maybe his color was returning.
She gave him his morning antibiotics and pain pill and opened the journal again.
August 7th, 1917
I stand to greet the two men as Helena ushers them into the small solarium. Not even the slightest hint of pain crosses my face. I’ve taken three of the big white pain pills today, preparing, ensuring I seem up to any task.
It’s just before noon, and the sun hangs high in the sky, bathing the white wicker furniture and the plants placed around the solarium with light.
The taller man steps forward, out-pacing Helena and speaking without waiting for her to make the introduction. “So, you’ve finally decided to see us.” German, a soldier sure as shit. His eyes are cold, intent.
Before I can speak, the other man pops out from behind the towering man, extending a hand. “Mallory Craig, Mr. Pierce. Pleasure.” An Irishman, and a mousey one at that.
The German unbuttons his jacket and sits without asking. “And I’m Konrad Kane.”
Craig scurries around the couch and settles in beside Kane, who wrinkles his nose as he looks over, then moves down.
“You’re German,” I say as if accusing him of murder, which I consider to be fair. I probably could have masked the tone, if not for the drugs, but I’m glad it came out the way it did.
“Mmm. Born in Bonn, but I must say I’ve lost any interest in politics at this point.” Kane responds leisurely, as if I’d asked him if he kept up with the horses, as if his people weren’t gassing and murdering mine by the millions. He cocks his head. “I mean, who could when there are so many more fascinating things in the world?”
Craig nods, “Indeed.”
Helena places a tray of coffee and tea between us, and Kane speaks before I can, as if it’s his home and he’s entertaining me. “Ah, thank you, Lady Barton.”
I motion to the chair and say to her, “Stay,” I think just to prove to Kane who’s in charge. He looks annoyed, and I feel a little better.
Kane takes a sip of the coffee. “I hear you need work.”
“I’m looking for work.”
“We have a special kind of job to be done. We need a certain type of man for it. Someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut and think on his feet.”
At that moment, I think: intelligence work — for the Germans. I hope it is. I still have my US Army sidearm in the table by my bed. I have a mental image of myself getting it out and returning to the solarium.
“What type of work?” Helena says, breaking the silence.
“Archeology. A dig.” Kane stays focused on me, waiting for my reaction. Craig mostly watches Kane. He hasn’t made a peep since his “indeed,” and I doubt he will.
“I’m looking for local work,” I say.
“Then you won’t be disappointed. The site’s under the Bay of Gibraltar. Quite deep under. We’ve been excavating it for some time. 45 years in fact.” Kane watches me for a reaction, but none comes. He takes a slow sip of coffee, never breaking eye contact. “We’ve just started to find… make real progress, but the war’s put us in a real spot. We keep thinking it will end soon, but we’re forced to make other arrangements until then. Ergo, we are here, making this offer to you.” Kane finally looks away.
“Is it dangerous?” Helena says.
“No. No more dangerous than say, the Western Front.” Kane waits for her eyebrows to knit up, then reaches over to pat her on the leg. “Oh no, I merely jest, my dear girl.” He smiles back at me. “We wouldn’t put our little war hero in any danger.”
“What happened to your last team?” I ask.
“We had a German mining team, an extremely capable team, but obviously the war and the British control of Gibraltar have complicated matters for us.”
I ask the question I should have to begin with. “How many people have you lost?”
“Lost?”
“Dead.”
Kane shrugs dismissively. “None.” The look on Craig’s face tells me it’s a lie, and I wonder if Helena knows.
“What are you digging for?” He’ll lie, but I’m curious what angle he’ll use.
“Historical. Artifacts.” Kane spits the words out like spent tobacco.
“I’m sure.” My guess: a treasure hunt, probably a sunken pirate ship or merchant ship at the bottom of the bay. It would have to be something substantial to spend 45 years digging for it, especially underwater. A dangerous assignment. “Compensation?” I ask.
“50 Papiermarks per week.”
50 anything would have been a joke, but Papiermarks is a slap in the face. They may as well pay me in fools’ gold. Given how the war is going for Germany, Papiermarks won’t be worth burning in a year or two. German families will be carrying them to the baker’s shop in wheelbarrows to buy a loaf of bread.
“I’ll take my payment in US Dollars.”
“We have dollars,” Kane says casually.
“And a lot more of them. I want 5,000 upfront — just to look at your tunnels.” I look over at Helena. “If they’re poorly dug, or the support work is shoddy, I walk away, with the 5,000 dollar advance.”
“They’re very well made, Mr. Pierce. They were dug by Germans.”
“And I want $1,000 a week.”
“Absurd. You ask a king’s ransom for the work of a peasant.”
“Nonsense, I hear Kings, Kaisers, and Czars aren’t as valuable as they used to be. But a clear chain of command does have its place. It can keep a man alive, especially in dangerous places like underwater mines. If I take this job, when I’m in the mines, I’m in charge, no exceptions. I won’t put my life in the hands of a fool. Those are my terms; take ‘em or leave ‘em.”