The Golden Flask (51 page)

"I can be a spy like yourself."

"An operative, my dear. We involve ourselves in con
siderably more than spying, Jake and I. We are at Gen
eral Washington's call for missions of every stripe. We
are the upper class of agents, as it were."

The knit of van Clynne's brow grew to such propor
tions that not even Alexander could have untied it as
he did the rope at Gordius. Scarce ever were the times
the Dutchman had given such thought to a problem
without the helpful lubrication of several barrels of fine
ale: How to persuade the girl with a place where she
might simultaneously be safe and fight the British at the same time?

The wheels in his head turned slowly but inevitably.
For he was Dutch, after all, and the idea eventually settled into place like a great eagle landing on a treetop.

In truth, it did not take half the effort, though he
made a great show of it. For van Clynne had made this
suggestion to Jake several times already. But he had long ago learned that an idea that seems to suffer a
hard birth is more easily accepted than one that slides
into the world with nary a grunt.

"A friend of mine on Long Island may have need for
a girl to help on her farm," he declared. "The woman
is a brave patriot and often assists the Sons of Liberty. Her farm is behind the lines, and danger is always flit
ting past the threshold in some form or another. She is
said to be Dutch by marriage only, yet has taken to the
ways of the race so strongly that it is clear her ances
tors found it necessary to obscure her Netherlands an
cestry until now."

"Long Island?"

"Mrs. Hulter has lived there many years. Her husband was a soldier, but the rumor has it that he died
near White Plains. As yet, his death has not been offi
cially confirmed."

"Professor Bebeef s sister?"

"You know the family?"

Alison quickly told van Clynne the story.

"And here we once more have proof of Dutch supe
riority," declared the squire, who saw the coincidence not as a product of luck but of a plan he had intuitively if unknowingly placed in motion some time before.
"There is a proper Dutch solution to every problem,
my dear, as I'm sure the good missus will instruct. You
will fight the British as fiercely as any Continental regi
ment. She is a fine brewer besides; you will do well to
stay with her."

"I will go there on one condition."

"Name it," said the Dutchman.

"We cannot abandon Jake," said the girl firmly. "We
must help him this last time."

"He has Daltoons's entire troop at his call," said the
Dutchman. "They are meeting with reinforcements from Culper and will take over the farm and stand guard. Half the British army could arrive and they would be safe. We are as superfluous as a comb on a rooster."

"Perhaps I am," suggested the girl, "but what of yourself? What would have happened at the engineer's if you were not there to rescue him?"

"True," admitted van Clynne. "I did, after all, save
the day. Many a time, I have had to pluck him from the
fire just as his coat was singed."

"He has already died once today without you. What if you are not nearby a second time?"

The Dutchman contemplated that possibility. Actu
ally, he did not worry so much about Jake as Egans, whom he believed would have a difficult time lying.
This was a fatal flaw shared by all Iroquois, or so van Clynne believed. And the problem could, in turn, lead
Jake to difficulty.

Besides, if they were starting from two different
points, it would be difficult to coordinate their rendez
vous on the Jersey shore. And despite Jake's long-
winded assurances, he would undoubtedly feel obliged
to leave for Washington without him. Van Clynne was
loath to lose his opportunity for an interview with the
general a second time.

"Perhaps we should reconnoiter the area as a reserve
squadron," he suggested. "But they have already met
you once; I'm not sure what pretense we can invent for
your arrival."

"They know me only as a boy. They won't recognize
me as a girl."

"Bauer saw you at the hill."

"There is an old dress upstairs, and I will wear a hat.
You, on the other hand, have already been seen in your disguise as a doctor; you will have to find a disguise or
stay hidden."

"Claus van Clynne never hides. That is a coward's way.”

* * *

"I am warning you, girl,” said van Clynne a bit later, as he submitted, albeit reluctantly, to Alison’s barbering skills, “one nick and I will retaliate with appropriate measures. A strong paddling would do your soul good, I daresay."

"I used to shave my father every day. Now hold your
mouth still — if that is possible."

"Impertinence. Impertinence in the young. In my time, it was unheard of."

"I am not as young as you pretend, and you are not as old," said Alison, who now had the advantage of
seeing van Clynne's face — or a quarter of it — without its customary beard. "I doubt you are beyond thirty, if
that. Now be quiet or we shall never arrive in time."

"Owww! What was your father's face made of? Iron?" Van Clynne reached up and grabbed her hand.

"Don't be such a baby," said Alison, freeing her wrist with a snap. She dipped the long straight-edge razor in the soapy warm water and prepared for an
other swipe. "A little bloodletting is good for your va
pors."

"My vapors are in perfect condition, thank you. And I would expect you to show proper deference, now that
I have condescended to allow you to shave me."

"Condescended?"

"Shaving is a sacred rite in the Dutch way of things,
my dear. It is not every young woman who is accorded
the privilege."

"Honored, I'm sure," said Alison sarcastically,
plucking tightly at the next hairs and ignoring the ensu
ing howl. "When was the last time you washed your
beard? I believe I have found a bird's nest here."

Chapter Forty-three

Wherein, Jake again kisses danger in the face.

T
he last time
he
had been in this mansion, Jake had arrived in a dazed condition with an armed guard at his shoulder. Still, he had enough of an idea of the layout to narrow Clayton Bauer’s office down to one of two rooms in the western corner of the house. With Bauer gone, it would be the best place to hide – and would also give him a chance to search through the spymaster’s papers.

Both rooms had windows facing the Hudson. Jake
chose the corner to try first because it was closest to him as he moved through the woods from the side.

Though his wounds had been redressed at the Smith
house, he did not want to push his battered leg harder
than necessary. He walked forward slowly, glancing
through the trees down toward the beach where he had washed up some days before. The disguised
Libertymen had already appeared on the river; he had
only a few minutes to get inside if he was to beat Egans.

The company of redcoats assigned to Bauer had re
turned in foul moods from the earlier diversion sent to
them by Culper's men. Roused from bed to attend a
false report of rebels attacking the rocky shore upriver,
all they had to show for their adventures were skinned
knees and bruised shins. The sentry posted at Jake's corner of the house was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he leaned against the building.

Jake kept the man's shiny coat in view as he half-
crawled, half-trotted past a shed which housed mowing
equipment. He just managed to roll against the side of
the building when he heard voices approaching from
the rear; the low shrubs were enough to hide him only
because the two sentries were talking rather than pay
ing attention to their duties.

The men were discussing whether their company's
assignment would be changed now that Bauer had been killed. Neither seemed to like the "uppity colo
nist," but they realized the chore of guarding him had
been comparatively easy. The unit headquartered up
the road a quarter mile away had been put on notice to
prepare for an "expedition at sea." They worried over
the cryptic phrase and whether it would soon describe
their fates as well.

The talk faded as the guards called to their mate by
the house. He shouted a one-word response and they
reversed course, patrolling in the opposite direction. Their assignment doubtlessly called for them to walk
the vast yard's perimeter in parallel, not tandem. Jake,
ever the military commander, could not help but shake his head as he bolted to his feet and did his best imita
tion of a sprint toward the building.

The sentry did not notice him until the patriot's knife was slitting a peephole at his throat.

Jake propped the dead man against the house, hop
ing the others would not return before they were re
placed by Daltoons's squad. In any event, he would look from the distance as if he were sleeping.

The window nearby was open a crack. Jake went to it, listened a moment to make sure the room was
empty, and decided he was unlikely to find a situation
more inviting. He slipped inside with less care than a
sparrow entering her nest.

This was not Bauer's office, unless he had suddenly
gained a very feminine side. Even if the rich yellow
and pink coverlet on the bed hadn't made it clear that
Lady Bauer was staying here, the room was thick with
her lilac-scented perfume.

Jake was adjusting his eyes to the dim interior light
when he heard footsteps approaching from the hall
way. He ducked and started to slide beneath the thick mahogany bed before realizing he couldn't squeeze in;
the only other place to hide was behind the large curtain at the window he had entered. He was halfway there when the door opened behind him.

"You?"

Lady Patricia's voice held him suspended in midstep
on the velvet rug. Jake took a breath, then turned to
see her standing in her unclasped dressing gown, hair
down, hands open at her sides. The hard soap of pain had scrubbed the pores of her face; rarely had mourning worn such beauty.

* * *

"I am Christof Egans, a messenger from General Bur
goyne. I was ordered by the general to extend greetings
to his honor Mr. Bauer before proceeding to General Clinton's headquarters."