Trouble in Paradise (16 page)

“They weren’t in any danger,” Ray said. “They were perfectly safe. It wasn’t like they were out on some mission in the middle of the night on the streets of Hamilton.”

“There were soldiers and guards and agents all around us,” I added, to support what Ray was saying.

“Nevertheless you should have asked permission,” my mother said. “Either from the commander or from one of us. We never agreed to you boys getting involved in anything riskier than cleaning and chores.”

“To tell you the truth,” Ray said, “I think it’s almost a crime to have these boys here mopping and sweeping and emptying rubbish bins. It’s like hitching a couple of racehorses to a milk wagon and then being upset when they start pulling hard on the reins and chomping at the bit.”

“They are
not
going out on missions,” my mother said.

“I agree. They’re just boys,” my father added.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ray replied. “George there can pick a lock better than almost any man I know.”

Both parents looked at me in shock.

“He took to it like an otter to water,” Ray explained. “I hardly had to show him.”

“What else have you been showing him?” my mother demanded.

“Hardly anything that—”

“Why are you showing them anything?” she asked.

“Just trying to give them an education.”

“An education is what they get in school!” our mother snapped.

The room got very silent and uncomfortable. I wished that Little Bill were here because he would have known what to say to ease the tension.

“I know they’re your children,” Ray finally said to break the silence. “And I know that it’s maybe not my place … but still … just think about it.” Ray stood up. “You’ve done a good job with these boys,” he said.

“Thank you,” my mother replied. “And we’re not angry with you … really.”

“As long as you’re not angry with your boys.” He turned to the commander. “Just think about what I said … just think before you decide.”

The commander looked like a man with a lot on his mind, not all of it having to do with a couple of kids who may or may not have been too talented to take out the trash. “Boys, please wait outside my office,” he said.

We both got to our feet.

“And, Ray, you are also dismissed.”

Ray shook hands with the commander and my parents and then came out with us, closing the door behind him. We walked over, and Jack and I sat down on the chesterfield, but Ray stood right over top of us.

“It got a little frosty in there,” he said.

“It was downright chilly,” I replied.

“Commander’s been a bit out of sorts lately. Not sure why, but I have the feeling that something’s about to happen … something big.”

“How do you know?”

“I hear things, I listen, I look. You know they’re going to cancel all leaves for the guards this Saturday.”

“Are you sure? Dad didn’t mention that to us,” I said.

“And he’d know,” Jack said.

“I’m sure he does know. It hasn’t been passed on to anybody just yet.”

“But you know.”

“I know lots of things I’m not supposed to know,” Ray replied and then gave a little wink.

“So there’s something big happening this weekend,” Jack said.

“Something, yes. Big, yes. But I’m not sure what. The thing I can’t figure is why they want all the guards. It’s almost like they think that there’s …”

Ray let his sentence trail off but we all had the same thought—like there was going to be an attack on the hotel.

I’d started to say that very thing when the door to the office opened and the commander appeared, followed by our mother and father.

“With the agreement of your parents, we will consider allowing you boys to become involved in something more sensitive at the hotel,” the commander said.

“That’s great!” I said, jumping to my feet.

“But …” the commander continued.

I hated
buts
.

“But those tasks will only commence upon further discussion with, and agreement from, higher authorities.”

Of course I knew he was talking about Little Bill.

“And until that agreement is forthcoming, you will be denied access to The Princess Hotel,” the commander said.

“We can’t come here at all?” I asked.

The commander nodded his head.

“That ain’t fair!” Ray said. “It’s like they’re being punished for something that I did.”

“They aren’t being punished,” the commander said. “And this whole situation will be resolved within the week. It’s more like a one-week holiday.”

Jack looked at me and I knew what he was thinking, the same way he knew what I was thinking.

“So we can come back on Monday?” Jack asked.

“No guarantees, but that certainly seems to fit the proposed timeline.”

“Until then, you are not to come within
sight
of the hotel,” my father said. “And if you fail to follow that order, I can guarantee that you will never come here again. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said, and I nodded in agreement.

We both knew that this had less to do with reassigning us than with keeping us away until after Saturday. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I now had a pretty good idea where and possibly when.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I SHIFTED ALONG
, keeping pace, as the opposing team used a series of lateral passes to move the ball across the rugby field. Each time, they lost a few yards in the toss and gained it back in the run, only to be met by a wall of our defenders. There wasn’t much time left in the game—there
couldn’t
be much time left—and all we had to do was hold them off and we’d win. We were up by four points, so unless they got a try, they couldn’t catch us.

Suddenly there was a shift and one of their players burst through, shedding defenders and making for the far side of the field. I angled toward him, trying to make sure he didn’t get by me on the far side but not overplaying him so that he could cut back and go under me. He was big and getting bigger as he closed the distance between us. He was also fast, and there was no hope of anybody catching
him from behind. It was me or nobody. He thundered forward—he was trying for the outside—then all at once he changed direction, heading right at me, a straight arm out to bowl me out of the way!

His fist slammed against my chest, pushing me back, and I reached up and grabbed him, wrapping my arms around his middle. He kept running, his legs pumping furiously, pounding into me as he used his free hand to punch me in the face! I dug my fingers into his back and my legs got tangled up in his, and then I felt myself falling backward. It was like the whole thing was happening in slow motion. I wanted to push him away or twist to the side, but I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—do either. I clung to him and was only jolted back to real life and real time when his full weight crashed against my chest! My whole rib cage seemed to compress and air rushed out of my lungs—but I didn’t let go.

I could feel the rugby ball trapped between our bodies— it felt like there was a rugby ball–sized crater in my chest. He tried to get the ball free so that one of his teammates could pick it up and continue the run, but I wasn’t going to let him do that. I hung on to him with all my might, and the ref blew the play down … no, he was blowing the whistle to signal that the game was over!

I released my grip and the player I had tackled got up. He reached down and offered me a hand.

“Good play, old chap,” he said as he pulled me to my feet.

I tried to answer but I couldn’t—I didn’t have any air in my lungs. They felt like they had been deflated. I doubled over.

“Way to play, Georgie!” one of my teammates yelled as he slapped me on the back.

Almost instantly I was in the middle of a mob of players congratulating me and each other on our victory. I was happy—but I would have been happier if I could have drawn a full breath.

“Are you all right?” Jack asked.

I nodded my head. “Good … had the wind … knocked out … of me,” I panted. “Better … now.”

Slowly I joined the team as we assembled in the middle, offered three cheers for the opposition and then formed a line to shake hands with them.

“That was a game saver,” one of them offered as he shook my hand.

“Good game, good tackle,” a second player said.

“You showed real heart out there,” another player added.

I looked up. He was the guy I’d tackled.

“I almost showed guts and a lung, too,” I said.

He chuckled and slapped me on the back. Having him congratulate me wasn’t surprising. Rugby was like that. One minute the enemy was trying to take off your head,
and the second the whistle sounded, everybody was your buddy again.

The fans—and it seemed like every student from both schools was there—cheered as we left the field. I trailed behind slowly. It wasn’t just that I was having trouble drawing a full breath but my left leg was hurting and I was limping.

There was a loud whistle—like a bird call. I looked in the direction it came from, at the end of the field, and saw a priest standing there. Was he motioning for me to come over? Why would a priest want— Ray … it had to be Ray.

I headed over and wasn’t halfway there when I could clearly see it
was
Ray. He was standing in the shadow of some trees, well away from anybody else.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Even a man of the cloth can appreciate a good rugby game.” He spoke with a thick, rich Irish accent instead of his usual English accent.

“Why are you talking like that?” I asked.

“It always seems to me that priests should be Irish.”

“But you’re not Irish.”

“And I’m not a priest, my son, but I can pretend to be both.”

I guess that made sense. “Is there another reason you’re here besides to watch a rugby game?”

“If God is everywhere, why wouldn’t this be a fine place for one of his servants to be?”

“If God is everywhere, why are you here, specifically in this spot?” I wasn’t letting this go.

“I heard something that might be of interest.”

“I’m listening.”

“What we’d talked about … something happening at The Princess.”

“Yes.”

“It’s definitely going to happen this Saturday. I heard it from three different sources.”

“Intercepted mail?”

“Mail
and
radio transmissions.”

“Do you know
what’s
going to happen?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m a priest … only God knows everything … and I don’t mean Billy Stephenson. This time even
he
doesn’t know.”

“Do you have any idea what it might—?”

“Hello, George.”

I spun around—it was Louise.

“Yeah … hello.”

“My apologies for interrupting … please excuse me.”

“No need to apologize,” Ray said, his Irish accent so thick it almost dripped from his mouth. “I’m Father O’Sullivan … and you are?”

“I’m Louise, Father,” she said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Ray sang out.

“It’s my great pleasure, Father. Again, I’m sorry to disturb your conversation. I was just wondering, George, would you tell your brother that I have to leave? Please congratulate him for me.”

“Sure … of course.”

“Thank you. So nice to meet you, Father … goodbye, George.”

Ray dipped his head slightly, and I waved goodbye as she left, leaving us alone again.

“I had no idea she was here,” Ray whispered—his Irish accent was gone.

“Louise? How do you know Louise?”

“Do you know who she is?” Ray asked.

“Yeah … she’s Louise. She’s Jack’s girlfriend.”

“She’s a lot more than Jack’s girlfriend!” Ray exclaimed.

“You know her?”

Ray laughed. “A lot of people in England would know her … well, at least recognize her. It’s not like she and I move in the same social circles.”

“So who is she?”

Ray opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. “Maybe I’ve said too much all ready.”

“Come on, Ray, tell me!”

“If you don’t know, it’s maybe better if I keep me mouth shut.”

“I know she’s somebody,” I said. “Jack knows … he just hasn’t told me.”

“And maybe I should follow his lead. I gotta run. I’ll see you next week … I’m sure they’ll let you back in after this weekend.”

“Wait!” I said as I grabbed him by the arm and stopped him from leaving.

“Easy on the priestly vestments, my son,” he said—the Irish accent had returned.

“But tell me … do you have any idea what’s going to happen at The Princess?”

“Not sure, but the message said something about capturing The Princess and ‘neutralizing the target.’”

“They’re going to take over the hotel!” I gasped.

“Of course not. The way she’s defended, they’d have to land a battalion of men, and there’s no way they could do that.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

“The only enemy vessel that could get close enough would be a U-boat, and it couldn’t hold more than ten or twenty men … not nearly enough to make a serious attempt to capture the hotel.”

“So if they can’t capture it, are they going to try to destroy it?” I asked.

“That would be my guess. And there’s the rub. Nobody is sure, but they’re taking no chances. There’ll be enough
soldiers pulled from around the island that it would take more than a battalion. Don’t worry, your father will be safe. I gotta go.”

He started off and then stopped and turned back to me. “And you have to keep this under your hat … on the down low … you can’t let anybody know that old Ray told you anything.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“ARE YOU NOT FEELING WELL,
George?” my mother asked.

“I’m fine … I feel good … why?”

“You’ve hardly touched your breakfast,” she said, pointing down at my plate. “You’ve just sort of rearranged your eggs and sausage.”

“I guess I’m not hungry. Dad hasn’t eaten much of his.”

We all looked at my father’s plate. He hadn’t touched his toast, had left part of an egg and his sausage was only half eaten.

He looked embarrassed. “I guess I’m not that hungry, either.”

It was Saturday morning, and it looked as though I wasn’t the only person nervous about what today was going to bring. But Jack was still pretty much in the dark—I’d kept my word to Ray and hadn’t told him.
I felt bad keeping it to myself, but I would have felt worse breaking Ray’s trust.