The Golden Fleece Affair (From The Files Of Lady Dru Drummond Book 2)

by CW Hawes

  “Thank you, Elmer. I am very much better. In the pink of health.”

  Kit and Elmer shook hands with everyone and were introduced to the professors. I noticed Kit lingered a bit holding Klara’s hand, when they were shaking hands. I know he’s been seeing her and I suspect there is love in the air.

  The stewards told the agents they were in Cabin Eight, next to mine, and took their bags into the cabin area.

  Sykes took drink orders from Elmer and Kit. Both asked for a Tom Collins. When the drinks arrived, we sat, getting acquainted and re-acquainted. About a quarter to midnight, Admiral Rosendahl joined us and seeing the army contingent was not with us, sent Sykes to get them. When they had joined us, Rosendahl gave a speech.

  “I’m Charles Rosendahl, Admiral, US Navy, retired, and captain of the Argo. This airship, the former USS Los Angeles, has been completely refitted. I won’t say she is state-of-the-art; however, she is as close to it as Mr Walter Ramsey Hall could get her to be.

  “We are about to embark on a potentially dangerous mission. Our destination is a war zone and our lift gas is very flammable when mixed with the right amount of oxygen. Because this is a joint venture between the US government and Mr Walter Ramsey Hall, once on the ground there will be two commanders. The government interests will be directed by Mr Elmer Pond. Who’s in charge of the Army unit?”

  “I am, sir. Staff Sergeant Lyndon Sax, sir.”

  “Sergeant Sax, you will take your lead from Mr Pond.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Sax replied.

  Admiral Rosendahl continued, “On the civilian side, Mr Hall informed me the leader is Mr Karl von Weidner.”

  I looked at Karl. His face registered surprise.

  Admiral Rosendahl went on, “Assisting Mr Weidner will be Lady Hurley-Drummond.”

  Now it was my turn to be surprised.

  “In the air, I am in charge of operations. Get to know each other. The success of this mission depends on everyone cooperating. Any questions?”

  No one had any, or had any they cared to ask the Admiral.

  “Seeing none, I’ll leave you and bid you goodnight.”

  Admiral Rosendahl turned, opened the door to the forward part of the gondola, went through, and closed it behind him.

  Karl said, “I think it might be of benefit if we went around the room and gave our names, along with the group with which we are associated. I’ll start. I’m Karl von Weidner and I’m a journalist with Hall Media.”

  Karl indicated I should go next. “I’m Drusilla Drummond Hurley-Drummond. Please, though, call me ‘Dru’. I’m also a journalist with Hall Media.”

  “I’m Klara Klopov and I’m Lady Hurley-Drummond’s secretary.”

  “I’m Dunyasha. I’m a friend of Lady Hurley-Drummond’s and let her talk me into going back to Russia because they missed shooting my ass off the previous time I was there.”

  Smiles, chuckles, and a titter flowed through the lounge. The soldiers especially seemed to enjoy her comment.

  “I’m Jake Branson. Former Airborne Ranger, I now work for Mr Hall.”

  “I’m Doctor Wilbur Franzen, Professor of Ancient History at the University of Chicago. I’m a specialist in the Caucasus region and am on this mission at the request of Mr Hall.

  “My name is Elise Rodman. I’m professor of Classical Literature at Stanford University. My specialty is ancient myth, particularly Greek. And I, too, am here at Mr Hall’s request.”

  “Kit Somers. Consultant to the US government on Russian affairs.”

  “Elmer Pond. Also a consultant to the government on Russian affairs.”

  The soldiers introduced themselves. All are US Army Rangers. The commanding officer, Staff Sergeant Lyndon Sax, has been with the Army for eleven years. Corporal Isaac Hill has been in the Army three years and the four privates, Roland Ajax, Billy Denham, George Young, and Frank Milano, for two years each.

  After the introductions, we heard the command “Airship, up!” We went to the windows and watched the lights grow distant. The engines engaged and we were on our way.

  I heard one of the privates comment, “This thing ain’t no airplane.” His tone suggested he preferred the airship’s take off.

  Staff Sergeant Sax ordered his men to their cabins. They were to be up early for some physical training.

  The rest of us also decided sleep might be best and made our way to our cabins, although Klara and Kit lingered a bit in the lounge.

  Karl was his usual reserved self and simply wished me goodnight. I touched his sleeve, said goodnight, and kissed the air. A faint smile touched his lips.

  When Dunyasha and I were in our cabin, she took me into her arms and hugged me for the longest time.

  “Oh, Drusilla,” she murmured, “I’ve missed you.”

  I pulled away from her. “And I you. But a working girl must work.”

  “Except you don’t need to be a working girl.”

  “Not for the money. I work because I enjoy it. For the most part.”

  “You and Karl are good?”

  “Very good, Dunyasha. What of you and the Baron?”

  “He was okay as long as Kit was around. Kit, however, is quite taken now with Klara.” She sighed.

  “No one else in your life?”

  “No. So, I’m free to go to Russia with you. My dear, sweet Dru. My Little Kitten.” She closed the distance between us and kissed me.

  The stewards had been in and turned the cabin from sitting room to sleeping room.

  “Do you want top or bottom?” I asked.

  She arched an eyebrow and looked me in the eyes.

  “The beds, Dunyasha.”

  “Oh.”

  “And you said I’m the cat in heat type. Ha!”

  Dunyasha laughed. “You got me there. I’ll take the top bed.”

  I took her hands in mine. “I’m glad you decided to come with us. Because if anything happens to me I want you and Karl to be there. The two people I love most and who love me.”

  Dunyasha took me in her arms and we held each other for a long time.

  Eight

  Why?

  Off the Coast of New Jersey

  Morning, Very Early

  Monday, 12 April 1954

  I could not fall asleep. I’d doze off, then wake up. The telegram from “Vlad”, Count Neratoff, kept playing over and over in my mind. My thoughts kept going back to last year, when Karl and I went to Moscow after Stalin’s death. My brief love affair with Captain Mikhail Turbanev, ruined by the hold Neratoff has on him, and my own dealings with the Count after being abandoned by Mikhail. I shivered at the thought I had survived thwarting Neratoff. The man who got rid of Mikhail’s problems.

  Rather than fight it, I got up, put on my housecoat, visited the W.C., and then went out to the lounge. A couple lights were on which sufficiently illuminated the room so I didn’t stub my toe. In the dim light, I checked my watch. The time was half-past three. I went to the window and looked out into the blackness of the night. Below I saw the lights of a steamship. All else was black as the abyss.

  “The night can be incredibly dark.”

  I jumped. Turning around, I saw Admiral Rosendahl sitting in a corner. He was in shadow and I’d failed to see him when I entered the lounge.

  “I’m sorry. I startled you,” he said.

  “Yes. I didn’t see you.”

  “My apologies.”

  “No harm done. You’re not asleep?”

  “No. I came here to take a catnap. I learned from Herr Doktor Eckener, a good and faithful airship captain does not sleep. However, I could no longer keep my eyes open.”

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

  “Quite alright. I was just about to return to the bridge.” He stood, walked to where I was standing, and looked out into the night.

  I turned and looked back out the window.

  “She’s an old ship, the ZR-3. Well built, though. Dürr knew what he was doing. I’m glad she’s flying again. I wish it wasn
’t into a war zone.”

  The Admiral seemed sad. As though he was talking about his child, who he didn’t want to send off to war.

  “I’m confident you will do your best to keep her out of danger,” I said.

  “I’ll do my best,” he affirmed, “There are times when trouble finds you in spite of your best efforts to avoid it.”

  “Very true, Admiral.”

  “I’d best get back to the bridge. Just in case Herr Doktor is dreaming about his baby.”

  “Goodnight, Admiral Rosendahl.”

  “Goodnight, Lady Hurley-Drummond.”

  I turned back to the window. There was nothing to see except the blackness of the night. Ahead of us men and women were dying for whatever cause they’d been hoodwinked into believing was right. I don’t think any cause is right. Just one way of looking at things. And there are many ways to do so. I would not have undertaken this quixotic adventure on my own. Mr Hall has been good to me. I owe him my career. Yet death comes to us all. He’s not a young man. Perhaps now is his time.

  I’m here because of Karl. Dunyasha and Klara are here because of me. Jake Branson is here because he’s employed by Mr Hall; just for these kinds of occasions, it seems. The soldiers, because someone told them to and they follow orders. I suppose the same can be said for Kit and Elmer, although they could quit their jobs. Kit, at least, has his position at Graham-Paige Autos. However, I think they work for IRIS, the International Research and Intelligence Service, not simply for the money. They think they are serving their country. Doing some good for America in the world. The professors? I’d guess fame and glory and academic renown are their reasons. Although Mr Hall may be paying them a tidy sum for their professional opinion. We have one more yet to join our party and from the sounds of it his interest might simply be money. The funny thing is we are all on this airship flying to a place little known to the broader world and we don’t even know if what we’re after is real. The whole thing could be a hoax.

  Then there is Neratoff. Apparently he doesn’t think it a hoax. Nice of him to give us a warning instead of just shooting us when we arrive. I wonder if Mikhail is there trying to get hold of the fleece? Grasping at anything which will give his cause legitimacy and him power. Probably. Or would he trust Neratoff to do this alone on his behalf? I wouldn’t trust Neratoff, but then I’m not Mikhail.

  I don’t wish to see him. Them, actually. But especially Mikhail. It serves little purpose to see old lovers, especially when the parting was not very good. Such a meeting leads inevitably to more heartache.

  A big yawn interrupted my thoughts. Perhaps now I can sleep. I returned to my cabin.

  Dunyasha was sound asleep, her face turned towards me. She is so very beautiful. I reached up on tip toes and kissed her. She muttered something. Something, that to me, sounded like, “love you”.

  Nine

  Wedding

  Over the Atlantic

  Afternoon into Night

  Monday, 12 April 1954

  Most of us didn’t get up in time for breakfast. The soldiers, yes. The civilians, no. We were all together for dinner, however. There are two tables which seat six each and two which seat four each. The soldiers sat together. The professors, Elmer Pond, and Jake Branson sat together. That left Karl, Kit, Klara, Dunyasha, and myself to sit with Admiral Rosendahl.

  Over the first course of cream of celery and cucumber soup, Admiral Rosendahl said we were just outrunning a major storm system sweeping up the east coast. He thought the winds might give us a boost in airspeed.

  I asked, “There’s no danger of the storm overtaking us, is there?”

  “Not likely, Lady Hurley-Drummond,” he replied.

  “Good,” Dunyasha said, “The last thing I need is to be airsick.”

  “That is highly unlikely, Baroness Bobrinsky,” the Admiral said. “I doubt you would even know we were in a storm unless you were looking you out the windows.”

  I said, “Dunyasha, you are just being cranky. You’ve flown on airships before.”

  A smile touched her lips. “I guess I am a bit touchy. It would help if I could smoke.”

  Our soup finished, the next course was sardines with mustard sauce on toast. The wine was a white Bordeaux.

  “Mr Somers,” Karl began, “what is your interest in our little trip to Georgia?” Karl was well aware Kit and Elmer were IRIS agents, we had learned their secret last year, and would try to take possession of the fleece as soon as they could. What Karl was doing was baiting Kit. Inviting him to tell us more than the official story, if he would.

  Kit put down his fork. He smiled and said, “Why, I’d think it obvious. To make contact with the Georgian Liberation Army to sell them Graham automobiles.”

  Those of us who know Kit, burst out laughing.

  When the laughter subsided, he went on, “And while negotiating the sale of Grahams, the government thought I could be of help in determining the likelihood of the Georgian Liberation Army securing independence for Georgia.”

  Karl nodded, ate sardines and toast, drank wine, and finally said, “That’s the official story.”

  Kit smiled. “Yes.” He drank wine and added. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to accompany Miss Klopov on such a trip.”

  Klara blushed.

  He then said, “Should you or I tell them?”

  Klara answered, “You.”

  Kit continued. “We were going to wait to tell everyone, but I can’t see the reason to do so. Klara and I are going to marry when we return home from this adventure.”

  We gave them our congratulations and Elmer Pond asked if all the hoopla at our table was because Kit had made the announcement. When Kit replied “yes”, the professors, Pond, and Branson came over to join us in a toast.

  Admiral Rosendahl said, “I don’t know if you two thought of this, I can, if you’d like, marry you now. When you get back, you can have a church wedding for family and friends.”

  Kit and Klara looked at each other. Then Klara looked at me.

  I said, “Klara, I’d take the Admiral up on his offer.”

  “Are you sure, my lady?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said, “Don’t worry about anyone else. If you love each other, don’t pass on the Admiral’s offer. You may regret you did.”

  They looked at each other, nodded, turned to the Admiral, and said, “Thank you. We accept.”

  We finished our meal and before the dessert, Admiral Rosendahl said his magic words, Kit and Klara each said, “I do”, and the Admiral pronounced them husband and wife.

  The stewards produced champagne and the pop of the corks announced our celebration of Kit and Klara’s marriage. The apple cake scheduled for our dessert served as the wedding cake. Jake Branson brought out his record player. We drank champagne and danced to songs such as “Blue Rain”, “Deep Purple”, “Belle of the Ball”, and “Be My Love”.

  Admiral Rosendahl excused himself after the cake. “By all means, enjoy yourselves,” he said as he left.

  And we did, all the way to supper. After we ate, we continued partying into the night.

  I danced with everyone. My most interesting dance was with Kit. It was a slow number.

  “I’m very happy for you and Klara,” I said.

  “Thank you, Dru. I hope this does not cause problems between us.”

  “Why would it?”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Dru. My mission is to get the fleece for the government.”

  I already knew this. Sometimes, though, it is best to not say what you know. I said, “I see. You’re not going to let Mr Hall have it.”

  “That’s the plan. National security is at stake here, if the stories about it are true. The government can’t let a private citizen have possession of something that important.”

  “That means we are working on opposite sides.”

  “It does. Unless I can persuade you otherwise.”

  “Kit, you want me to betray Mr Hall?”

  “P
rotect him is how I’d like to think of it.”

  “Protect him?”

  “Yes. If he has the fleece he is in great danger of losing it and his life.”

  “He’s dying, Kit. That’s why he wants it.”

  “I see. Well, the situation is this: if he gets it, he’ll probably lose it and die in the process. Or he doesn’t get it and he dies. We all die, Dru.”

  “I know, Kit. I just don’t think I can betray him. And if I do betray Mr Hall, then I’ll also be betraying Karl.”

  “How so?”

  “Karl is the one who volunteered to go. And because Karl agreed to go, I agreed to go.”

  “I see.”

  The song was coming to an end. We said nothing more. When the record finished, Kit said, “Think about it. Talk to Karl. I’d like us on the same side.”

  When the party finally broke up, sometime after midnight, I managed to kiss Karl goodnight on the cheek and then went to my cabin. Dunyasha was not there and I changed into my night gown. The stewards had already converted sofa to bed and pulled down the top bunk and made it up. I waited a bit and when she didn’t show I decided to climb under the covers. Before I got there, the door opened and into our cabin she came.

  “Where were you?” I asked.

  “With Jake Branson.”

  “Branson?”

  “Yes. Branson.”

  I looked at her. Her neck was flushed.

  “I see,” I replied. “How’d you two manage it?”

  “We went to the bow. The observation deck is lovely at night.”

  “Deck? The space is just barely big enough for two people.”

  She smiled. “I know. You have to get very cozy.”

  I laughed. “Leave it to you to get laid someplace off limits.”

  “More like a quickie, but it was nice.”

  “I suppose. He’s quite handsome. In that rugged manner.”

  “And considerate of a woman’s needs.”

  I laughed. “God, Dunyasha, you sound like you’ve never had sex.”

  “Seems like it.”

  “How did you get there? The ladder is in the navigation room and we’re not allowed in there.”