Under the Moon Gate

by Marilyn Baron

  “Disappearance?” Nighthawk scoffed snidely, rubbing at the spots of blood on his shirt. “If it makes you feel more respectable to think of it that way. But you’ve got blood on your own hands.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems that my delicious little French pastry is spoiled,” Nighthawk remarked.

  “Am I supposed to understand your crude references?” William asked, anger bubbling to the surface.

  “While she was masquerading as a British censorette, and playing the role of the seductive French mistress, a role she played very well, I learned she was about to reveal the identity of the German spy known as Island Eagle.”

  William’s face paled.

  “But how did she—how could she have known?”

  “She had us under surveillance; she was a British agent,” Nighthawk sneered. “It seems the British helped her escape after her parents were transported to the detention center to be ‘reeducated.’ She was eternally grateful to them.”

  “You compromised our operation?” William seethed. “What if she talks?”

  “I assure you, she won’t be talking to anyone anymore,” Nighthawk said dryly.

  “What did you do to her?” A growing sense of dread had the bile rising to William’s throat.

  “You interrupted us at a most inopportune time. I was just beginning to question her. But you seemed to be in such a hurry, you took all the sport out of it. No matter, it will be taken care of by the end of the day. She’ll be found in the nude, with her throat slit, in the basement of the Princess Hotel. In all the confusion of the day, it won’t even warrant a mention in the papers. Not like that other British censorette. Yvette, or whatever her real name is, is a spy. I doubt anyone will even acknowledge her. It’s a risky business.” Nighthawk smirked and shrugged. “Of course, I shall miss her very much—in my bed.”

  “How can you make light of this?” William tried to recall Yvette’s beautiful face and the vulnerable swell of her belly and knew it would haunt his dreams forever. Evil emanated from the monster beside him. “The woman is pregnant—with your child, I assume.”

  “That’s no matter to me, nor should it be to you. I’m saving you and our whole operation at a most critical time, and all you can do is berate me?” Nighthawk railed. “You don’t have the stomach for this business. They put the wrong man in charge.”

  Nighthawk never saw the punch coming. When William’s fist connected with his subordinate’s jaw, the crack reverberated and the lightning-like blow toppling Nighthawk like a solid oak. William lifted Nighthawk by his shirtfront, willing him to gain consciousness so he could finish the job. He flexed the sore hand that had felled his nemesis. One punch wasn’t enough. Like a lava flow, William’s molten rage saturated the crevices of his mind and the raw intensity of his anger searched for an outlet.

  William realized he had to get away or he would kill his associate with his bare hands. Captaining a U-boat required nerves of steel, but perhaps Nighthawk was right. He was growing weary of all the killing on both sides of the conflict.

  His stomach churned. He needed to feel clean again. He needed to see Diana. He would pick her up at her parents’ house, take her home, and coax her into bed, so he could pretend this whole episode had never happened. A man and a woman could lose themselves in each other, and the sounds of love could surely block out the sounds of war. He was anxious for the familiar feel of his wife.

  But first, there was the matter of the French woman—British spy or whoever she was. One word from her and their cover would be blown. Everything he had worked for would be destroyed. He would lose Diana forever. But the woman was pregnant! How could he have her blood on his conscience? If he did, he’d be no better than Nighthawk.

  William jumped into his car and drove to the Princess Hotel. He’d decide how to handle matters when he got there. Nighthawk would be suspicious, and he could be a problem in the future, but he couldn’t prove anything. Whatever else he was, he would remain a loyal soldier. He would follow orders.

  With any luck, William’s role in undermining the German plot and compromising the mission would never be revealed. He had averted a certain catastrophe for both sides. One day he would have to pay a price for that. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

  Chapter 15

  William arrived at Nighthawk’s hotel room and pounded on the door. Greeted by silence, he tried the lock.

  “Yvette, are you in there? It’s William Whitestone. Let me in.” He thought he heard a muffled reply. “Stand away from the door,” he shouted. Looking up and down the hallway, assured that no one was loitering there, he pulled out his gun and shot several times around the door handle. He reached his hand in and turned the knob from inside, stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.

  The scene that greeted him made his stomach lurch.

  Yvette was bound and gagged on the bed, still only half dressed, tears staining her cheeks, struggling to get free. When she saw him she cringed in fear.

  He untied the gag.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” she whispered. “My baby.” Tears stained her cheeks.

  “Do you think I’m an animal?” William asked bitterly. He untied her. She rubbed her hands and feet to restore circulation.

  He handed her a robe. “Here, put this on.” He picked up the telephone and couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bruises on her face. Nighthawk had beaten her bloody.

  “Yes, I need an ambulance at the Princess Hotel. Room 205. Emergency. Immediately.”

  Yvette screamed.

  He slammed down the phone and turned to her.

  “I think I’m in labor! Please, help me,” she sobbed.

  He rushed into the bathroom, grabbed some clean towels, and soaked a washcloth with water, thinking that this woman needed more help than he could give.

  At her bedside, he tenderly patted her face to remove the blood.

  “Hush, now. I’m here. Everything will be okay.”

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

  “The pain…my baby… It’s coming!”

  “How long have you had these pains?”

  He knew nothing about childbirth. He was a sailor, for Gott’s sake. Not many occasions to deliver babies on a ship.

  “All morning,” she replied, “since he left. The pain is worse now.”

  “The ambulance is on its way,” he assured her. “It should be here soon.” He hoped he was right. In all the confusion, it was unlikely that any ambulance would respond. In a few minutes he would have to drive her to the hospital in his own car.

  “Will you help me?” she pleaded.

  He smiled and nodded his head, hoping he could provide some comfort to the poor woman.

  Her pains had subsided for a moment, but she still held his hand in a death grip. “He means to kill me when he returns.”

  “He admitted that to me.”

  “You’ve got to get me out of here,” she said anxiously. “He will be back for me.”

  “He won’t hurt you. That I can promise you. I’ll kill him before he lays another hand on you. He shouldn’t be a problem right now. What is there between you?”

  “He fed me lies,” she began. “I sifted through them and reported half-truths. It was a game we played.”

  “A dangerous game,” he frowned. “Is it true you were going to expose me?”

  “Then you know who I am? Yet you’re still helping me?”

  “Whatever you think of me, I am still a human being,” William said. “Where’s that damn ambulance?”

  “You were never in danger. I was going to expose Nighthawk as the Island Eagle. When my baby and I are safe, I’m going to have him hunted down like the dog that he is.”

  “He’ll go underground,” William said.

  “He can go to hell,” Yvette answered, screaming again. “It’s coming, my baby’s coming!”

  “Can you wait for the ambulance?”

  He got his answer when she sagged back on
the pillow, spread her legs and clamped down on his hand as she pushed. He could see the head crowning.

  “I see it. I see the baby’s head.” What in the hell do I do now?

  In the next minute, out came the shoulders, and the rest of the child slipped out in a whoosh of fluid onto the towel he had placed at the foot of the bed.

  “He’s here.” William smiled widely. “It’s a boy.”

  Yvette started crying, tears of joy. “A boy?”

  “A bruiser.” William laughed.

  “Is he…?”

  William stared at the child in wonder.

  “He doesn’t have horns, if that’s what you mean. He has the requisite number of fingers and toes.”

  Yvette choked back her laughter.

  “Then he doesn’t take after his father.”

  The baby cried.

  “I want to see my—”

  Suddenly she sat up on her elbows.

  “William, I have to push again.”

  “The afterbirth?” William wondered.

  In another minute, smooth as a slippery eel, another child slipped out of the womb behind her brother.

  “It’s a girl,” William marveled. “Twins. Madam, you’ve just delivered twins.”

  “A miracle,” Yvette said, awed. “Let me see my children, William.”

  Suddenly the ambulance driver and his associate swept into the room like bats and brought chaos with them. Too soon for William. He wanted to savor the moment, share it with Yvette.

  “What’s the emergency?”

  “Henry, look,” the other worker said. “She’s just delivered. Two babies.”

  They scurried about, cutting the cords, washing the babies, while William looked on in wonder.

  “The babies, they’re so tiny,” William whispered. “So beautiful, like their mother.” He took a step toward the babies and then back, hesitant, dropping Yvette’s hand.

  “Is this the father?” the taller worker asked, wrapping one baby in a towel and handing the bundle to William.

  “Oh,” William said, startled as the baby shifted in his arms.

  “No,” Yvette laughed, looking at him wistfully. “Not the father, a friend—I think, yes?”

  “Yes,” William said strongly, fascinated by the tiny boy he was holding.

  The workers lifted Yvette off the bed and onto the stretcher. Then one of them took the bundle from William. Yvette was cuddling her daughter against her chest.

  “Well, then, I guess I’d better go home and get cleaned up.”

  “William,” she breathed. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me alone now. I need you.”

  “I’m right here with you, then,” he said. “The babies, they’ll be okay?” William asked one of the emergency workers.

  As if on cue, both infants wailed.

  “You can hear ’em, can’t you?” the man replied. “They’re madder’n hornets, wanting to be fed, no doubt.”

  William turned to Yvette, who was already coaxing her nipple gently into her little girl’s mouth. William blushed when he saw the baby nursing furiously, her tiny fist nestled against her mother’s breast.

  A tear spilled out of William’s eye.

  Yvette smiled.

  “I think we have been part of a true miracle, William,” she sighed.

  William caressed Yvette’s cheek.

  “You were very brave,” he said.

  “And so, William, were you.”

  “Okay, we’re going to get mother and babies to hospital,” the ambulance driver announced.

  “Will you follow us?” Yvette asked.

  “Just let me clean up a bit here, take care of a few things, and I’ll be right behind you,” he assured as Yvette and her children were wheeled out the door.

  The room was a bloody mess. It looked like a murder scene. In a few minutes, it would have become one.

  The splintered door would be hard to explain. He rinsed his hands, threw the bloody towels into a bag, and sanitized the room, removing any evidence of Yvette’s ever having lived there.

  Then he walked down the hall, took the elevator, and danced down the steps of the Princess. He called for his car and drove home. But he couldn’t go to his wife, not yet. He went to Marigold House and removed a pouch from his safe.

  Chapter 16

  When William arrived at the hospital, he tracked down Yvette and hurried into her room, anxious to see her and the babies again. They were so beautiful, so tiny, so new. His heart filled just to see them. Yvette was feeding the boy now, and the little girl was sleeping soundly in a bassinette by the bed.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “Sleepy, but fine, thank you. Thank you for coming back. I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “I promised, didn’t I?”

  “You’re a man who keeps his word, I could tell that right away about you.” She smiled, looking at him in rapture.

  “Have they fed you?” William wanted to know.

  “I’ve been able to eat a little.”

  “I brought you something. A sweet pear from our garden.” He held it up to her mouth so she could taste. The juice dribbled down her cheek and he wiped it away.

  “That’s delicious, William. Thank you.”

  “And I’ve brought you something else. Something to help you, for your future.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Some insurance.”

  “What?” Yvette asked, puzzled.

  “Don’t ask questions. Just take this. It holds diamonds. They’re yours.” He thrust the pouch toward Yvette. “You deserve this and much more.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I want you to have it.” His words, spoken with force, left no room for objection. “For the children. And if you ever need anything, you know you can come to me.”

  They left the rest unspoken between them. William pulled up a chair beside the bed and held Yvette’s hand, closing it around the dazzling emerald.

  “I wish…” He paused. “I wish that I could do more for you.” There was a look of longing in his eyes, matched only by hers.

  Then the nurse came in and took the children from their mother so Yvette could rest.

  He stayed for a while, until Yvette fell asleep, and then he whispered, “I must go now, but I will see you soon.”

  When he returned to the hospital the next morning, all trace of Yvette and her babies was gone. It was as if the new family had disappeared off the face of the earth. He used every available channel but could not determine what had happened to the three of them. It haunted him for days, weeks, months. He was frantic that Nighthawk had come for them in the middle of the night, and his mind went wild imagining all the cruel things he could do to the woman and her innocent babies. But he couldn’t ask Nighthawk. His associate had disappeared also.

  Chapter 17

  Bermuda 1943-1945

  31st May 1943. “Black May.” Forty-one of our U-boats have been sunk in the Atlantic. The Allies’ achievement of naval supremacy effectively marks the end of our sustained U-boat campaign. The Allies are beginning to employ new radar technology, thwarting Wolf-pack attacks, and the Ubootwaffe suffers a heavy death toll. Canaris tells me 863 U-boats have gone out on operational patrols, and 754 have not returned to their bases. Of the 39,000 men who put to sea in U-boats to date, 27,491 have died.

  ****

  “Thank God the worst of it is over,” Sir Stirling said to William over drinks at Marigold House. “The Germans came dangerously close to starving us out and forcing Britain to come to terms with Germany.”

  William wondered if he had even made a difference in the war effort and whether he should have stayed in the Kriegsmarine and fought to the death with those daring men with nerves of steel. While Grossadmiral Dönitz, head of the Kriegsmarine, proclaimed, “You have fought like lions!” William had done nothing but struggle with paperwork and record his “exploits” in a journal.

  ****

  June 1944. Sir S
tirling has just returned from England with grave news about heavy attacks on the city of London. The vice admiral and his wife came for dinner, and we caught up on the news.

  “I was in London the day the first B2 bomb hit,” recalled the vice admiral. “It was a 3,000-mile-an-hour missile—and it didn’t make a sound. Not like the scream of the Stukas, but terrifying in its own right. One minute I was leaning against the Red Cross building and then, without warning, the bloody thing dug a hole about 40 feet deep. Nobody heard it coming.

  “The city has been bombed so badly, you can hardly find a place to live. People can climb a set of steps and there’s no house left at the top. All the glass is gone. To replace windows, they’re smearing brown paper with shortening to let light in. How our people can manage to live under the bombardment I don’t know. The spirit and the fortitude they display is remarkable. The Blitz has killed more than 40,000 people, including thousands of children.”

  ****

  1944. The right to vote was given to all eligible Bermuda women.

  William continued to follow his instructions to record all events in his shore-based war diary, or Kriegstagebuch, no matter how insignificant they seemed at the time. It amused him to think that this particular milestone, women’s right to vote, would probably have longer-lasting repercussions than the Third Reich’s fading dreams of world dominance.

  “Diana and Olivia are over the moon because land-owning women have been given the right to vote,” the vice admiral said. “My wife and my daughter are suffragists. What is the world coming to? Diana told me you put Marigold House in her name so she could receive a vote. I know you have properties all over the island, but signing over the house meant the world to Diana.”

  “And she means the world to me,” replied William, who continued more and more in love with his wife each passing day.

  William didn’t know how well that move would sit with his superiors, but the way the war was going, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be in Bermuda. If he were to be pulled suddenly, he wanted to leave Diana well protected and cared for. He had already begun placing his other assets in her name. To hell with his handlers. She was the most important thing in his life. The only thing he valued.