by CW Hawes
“Branson has run of the ship. He’s Hall’s personal agent and Hall owns the ship. I was his guest.”
Dunyasha took off her clothes and got into bed naked.
“You took the top bunk, remember?” I said.
“Lie with me, Dru.”
“Dunyasha.”
“Please. Just be here.”
I did as she asked. We kissed goodnight and within moments she was fast asleep. Carefully, so as not to wake her, I got out and went up to the top bunk. I lay there thinking of what Kit had said. What would Klara do? She is my secretary and now Kit’s wife. I wouldn’t blame her one bit if she chose Kit over me. As for Karl, I had no doubt he’d remain faithful to Mr Hall. I’d be very surprised if he agreed to betray his boss. Tomorrow, well actually later today, I’d have to talk to him.
My mind started to wander. I was falling asleep. I thought of Dunyasha. I hoped this thing with Branson would turn into something serious. I think he’d be good for her. He could handle her and didn’t seem to have Mikhail’s issues. He seemed more self-confident. I wondered if she would ever leave the Baron for someone. Start over. She seemed content to simply have long term affairs. Yet, when Mikhail wanted to make me his wife, I could see that it had hurt her. I think she wants someone to love who will love her back. Perhaps Branson will be her ticket to happiness.
Ten
“I Can’t Betray Him”
Over the Atlantic
Tuesday, 13 April 1954
The day passed quietly. Before any of us were up, the soldiers went through their exercise routine. At breakfast, Dunyasha and I sat with the professors and were treated to a detailed survey of Greek mythology as it pertained to the Golden Fleece.
When they were finished, Dunyasha asked, “So how do we know this isn’t a hoax?”
Doctor Rodman answered, “The possibility exists, of course. Something some villager did to fool the Italians. To perhaps gain favor with the conquerors.”
“The pictures and the description are most convincing,” Doctor Franzen stated with all the fervor of a true believer.
“They are,” Doctor Rodman agreed. “Nevertheless, the possibility it is all a hoax does exist. That’s why we are flying to Georgia.”
“To authenticate the most marvelous discovery of the age,” Doctor Franzen declared.
Dunyasha was cranky, in spite of her tryst with Branson. She waved her hand and said, “Marvelous if it’s real. Otherwise this is nothing more than a goddamn dangerous waste of time.” Then she turned to me and said, “And I let you talk me into this.”
“Don’t blame me,” I shot back. “You didn’t have to come along. You could have said, ‘no’.”
“I know. I’m sorry. God. No smoking room. I’d give anything for a cigarette.”
Franzen concurred, sucking on his empty pipe, “Downright barbaric.”
I touched her hand. “You’ll make it. Tomorrow. You can smoke tomorrow.”
She smiled at me and gave my hand a squeeze.
Kit and Klara, who’d slept in late, stopped by our table. After exchanging morning greetings, Kit, who’d apparently heard Dunyasha’s complaint, said, “If you’d like, Lady Bobrinsky, we could dangle you from one of the lounge windows. That way you could get in a smoke.”
We burst out laughing. Dunyasha, with a smile, said, “Don’t tempt me, Mr Somers. Besides, I’ve already thought of that.”
Her last comment fueled our laughter even more. Karl, Branson, Elmer Pond, Staff Sergeant Sax, and Corporal Hill left their table to find out what was entertaining us so.
Kit said, “Lady Bobrinsky is in need of a cigarette. I told her we could dangle her out the window.”
Sax and Hill looked at each other and smiled. Sax said, “This sounds like a job for Army Rangers. We’re ready, Ma’am, when you are. The corporal and I will hold onto your feet tighter than a starving dog to a bone.”
And that brought the house down. Even cranky Dunyasha laughed heartily at their offer.
“You boys are simply naughty. Good thing I brought along a pair of slacks.”
The sergeant didn’t miss a beat. “If you insist, Ma’am. I can assure you a gentleman wouldn’t look and we’re gentlemen.”
Dunyasha winked at the sergeant. “Maybe later, honey. After a couple martinis and then I might even like it if you take a peek.”
“We’re ready when you are, Ma’am, to help a damsel in distress,” Sax replied.
“That’s good to know Sergeant.” And she blew him a kiss.
After that little episode, Dunyasha settled down and passed the day chatting, reading, and playing cards. Although at one point, I noticed she and Branson weren’t around. Probably off in some little nook or cranny fucking. Lucky her. In the morning Karl played chess with Franzen and I talked with Elise Rodman about flying. She is interested in learning to fly a plane.
After a wonderful dinner of lettuce soup, oysters, roast goose, spinach and mushroom salad with hard boiled egg slices and a warm bacon dressing, and sour cream rhubarb pie for dessert, I managed to drag Karl off to my cabin. We sat on the sofa, I took his face in my hands, and kissed him. He didn’t pull away. Instead he put his arms around me and passionately returned my kiss.
“God, Dru, I want you so badly.”
“Take me, please, Karl.”
He kissed me again, slipped down his trousers and underpants. I hitched up my skirt and pulled off my panties. I grabbed my contraceptive sponge and inserted it in my vagina. He sat on the sofa and I straddled him, slowly lowering myself until I felt his erection fully inside me. He was so very hard and I was so very wet. The tension of being so close together and not being able to make love had us tightly wound. I leaned forward and kissed him. He reached up under my blouse and bra and caressed my breasts, thumbed my hard nipples.
I began moving up and down. Slowly for the first couple times, but I was so close to coming, I began moving faster and faster. He thrust his hips in rhythm with my movements and it did not take long at all before those delicious waves of release swept over me. I bit my lip to prevent the cry of joy from being heard all over the flying tent we were in. A soft groan escaped Karl’s lips when his love came inside me.
“Looks as though we’ll have to talk later, Dru.”
“Yes, it does. But I’m not sorry.”
“Neither am I, my love. Neither am I.”
Karl’s always concerned about being alone together for too long a time. His paranoia over talk reaching Ilene, at times, makes our moments together feel rushed.
I got off him and quickly grabbed a tissue to catch his semen when it dribbled out. I then licked him clean as it were.
He got himself put together and while doing so I said, “We do have to talk. Kit told me what his and Elmer’s mission is.”
Karl nodded. “Later. Although I can probably guess. I best get back to public view.” He kissed me, then said, “We were discussing writing a series of stories about our adventure.”
I smiled and he left. I got myself put back together, waited a few minutes, made sure I looked as though nothing had happened other than a little chat, and made my way to the W.C. Once cleaned up, I went back to the lounge.
Kit, Klara, and the professors were playing Bridge. Boys against the girls. Branson was teaching Dunyasha how to play Pinochle. She was getting to know him alright. A couple of the soldiers were playing checkers. Pond and Karl were chatting.
I decided to read and returned to my cabin to get a book. I’d brought along four: Come, My Beloved by Pearl S Buck, Cress Delahanty by Jessamyn West, Samuel Shellabarger’s Lord Vanity, and William Barrett’s The Shadows of the Images.
After some thought, I picked up Shellabarger’s book. A grand and sweeping historical novel. Another world, in which I could lose myself. I returned to the lounge, found an empty chair by a window and spent the afternoon on another adventure in another century.
At four, tea and scones were served and at six, cocktails. Following cocktails, we were served
a lobster bisque for supper. There was also a selection of canapés for our enjoyment. Cheese, fruit, coffee, and tea constituted dessert.
Karl and I didn’t get to talk until quite late. Everyone had retired for the night. The time was near midnight. We were alone in the lounge.
“What did Kit tell you, Dru?”
“He made it quite clear the U.S. Government wants the fleece to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”
“Same reason the Brits want it. The public story, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed. “Kit also said if Mr Hall gets the fleece powerful forces will take it from him and he could die in the process.”
“Did he say who these ‘powerful forces’ are?”
“No.”
Karl smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “These government types never do. Mostly because they don’t exist. Doppelgangers governments set up to scare the people. What the government will do once it gets the fleece is secure it in some secret installation and run experiments on it and with it. Most likely to see if they can use it as some sort of weapon.”
“I agree. Kit wants you and I to work with him.”
“And betray Mr Hall’s trust.”
I nodded.
“Walter Ramsey Hall may not be the most liked man or the most concerned about humanity’s welfare. He likes money and what money can buy. He’s been a good boss, Dru. My renown is due to him. And he appealed to us as friends. In all my years working for him…” Karl paused, cleared his throat, and went on, “I’ll just say, no, I can’t betray him.”
“I told Kit you wouldn’t.”
“And you?”
“I told Kit I’d follow you.”
“Well, then, there it is, Dru.”
“There it is.”
The lounge was empty. Karl and I were facing each other, standing by one of the windows. I reached out and he took my hands. We stood there holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes, making love to each other with our eyes alone.
His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I don’t deserve you, Dru.”
“I like to think you do. Pardon my vanity, but I’m good for you.”
He smiled. “Yes, you are. If that Golden Fleece would somehow turn back the clock and let me meet you first…” He took me into his arms and whispered in my ear, “For that and that alone, I’d betray Mr Hall’s trust.”
I kissed him. And when our lips parted, I said, “Maybe, my darling, we should stop here before I cast caution to the wind and make love to you right now.”
He chuckled. “Maybe we ought to get a pass from Branson and find some quiet corner in this flying tent, as you call it.”
“So, Herr von Weidner, you also have observed his and Dunyasha’s absences seem to coincide.”
“That I have.”
“Perhaps you should talk to him.”
“Perhaps I shall.”
Eleven
Chocolate
Cardington, England
Morning
Wednesday, 14 April 1954
The Argo was secured to her mooring mast in Cardington at 8:07 in the morning. Admiral Rosendahl told us we’d only be on the ground long enough for our last passenger to board, take on provisions, ballast, petrol, and hydrogen. The Admiral estimated we’d take off about eleven.
Karl, Dunyasha, Jake Branson, and I went to the terminal. Dunyasha had a cigarette lit before we were halfway there.
“Oh, God, that is so good,” she exclaimed.
We laughed.
“Go ahead and laugh,” she said. “Hall’s a barbarian for not having a smoking room.”
Branson said, “Maybe he’s concerned about your health.”
“Shit,” Dunyasha shot back. “He’s concerned about money.” She sucked on her cigarette, exhaled smoke, and had a big smile on her face. “Anything that good, Branson, can’t be bad for you.”
He just laughed and put his arm around her.
I whispered to Karl, “They’ve gotten awfully friendly in a hurry.”
“They have,” he replied.
“Do you think we can make it to the chocolate shop and back in time?”
Karl laughed. “If we don’t dawdle,” he said.
Hearing Karl’s laughter, Branson and Dunyasha turned around.
“What’s so funny?” She asked.
Karl said, “Dru is craving chocolate as much as you that cigarette. We’re going to a chocolate shop in Cardington. Care to join us?”
Dunyasha said, “Sure. Let’s go. Next to diamonds, chocolate’s a girl’s best friend.”
We piled into a cab. Karl instructed the driver where we wanted to go and as luck would have it, he knew the place and we were off. In fifteen minutes we were parked before the shop. We got out, Karl asked the cabbie to wait, and we entered. Immediately the smells of a myriad different chocolates overwhelmed us. I breathed deeply. The air was redolent with sweet deliciousness. I admit I went a little crazy and ended up with ten pounds of assorted chocolate confections and bars.
Dunyasha took one look and said, “My God, Dru, it would be cheaper if you bought diamonds.”
I laughed with everyone else and said, “It’s my one weakness. Besides, you can’t eat diamonds.”
“Is that true, Mr Weidner, it is her one weakness?” Branson asked.
With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “She’s too modest. She has at least one other.”
I playfully hit his arm. “Karl! Quit telling secrets!”
We laughed and with purchases made, left the shop, piled back into the cab, and returned to the terminal. Karl paid the cabbie twenty pounds. Once the man got over his surprise, he said, “Thank you, guv!” with great enthusiasm.
“Go on back if you want,” Dunyasha said. “I’m staying here and smoking.”
I turned to Karl and said, “Let’s stay and stretch our legs.”
He agreed. I set my packages down by Dunyasha.
Branson said, “I better check on the crate Smith said he wanted to take with him.”
“See you later,” Dunyasha said.
Branson gave a wave and took off.
“Walk with us, Dunyasha?” I asked.
“Sure. Let’s have our packages put on board,” she said and summoned a porter, giving him instructions, and a ten pound note.
I got out a cigarette and put it in my holder. Karl lit my smoke for me. We walked, not saying anything, just enjoying the morning air and each other’s company. There wasn’t anywhere to go. We merely walked back and forth in front of the terminal. Karl on my right arm and Dunyasha on my left.
At half past ten, the petrol and gas lines were pulled away from the airship. The cargo hatch in the hull was closed and Branson ran over to us.
When he reached us, he said, “Alright, you intrepid adventurers, we are on our count down to departure.”
The four of us walked to the Argo and boarded. Everyone was in the lounge, including our new arrivals. Branson introduced us to Baden Powell Mafeking Smith and his associate, Dorman Shelsher. We shook hands.
Smith said, “A pleasure to meet you again, Lady Hurley-Drummond.”
Suddenly I remembered where I’d seen him before. It was briefly at a Christmas party thrown by my friend, Cathy, and her husband.
I said, “You do business with Sir Richard Champneys, don’t you?”
“Yes, indeed,” he replied. “Dick and I go back quite a long way.”
Dick is the third baronet Champneys and married to my childhood friend Catherine. He’s quite wealthy. His fortune mostly coming from his cartage and import-export businesses.
Smith continued, “I was just up at Hopewell.”
“Everything well with Dick and Cathy and the little ones?” I asked.
“It is, Lady Hurley-Drummond. The next time I see them I’ll give them your regards.”
“Please do.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish getting settled in my cabin.”
He gave me a half-bow and
left the lounge, Dorman Shelsher in his wake.
There was a slight jolt. The Argo was now disconnected from her mooring mast. We could see the airship being walked away. She was then literally tossed into the air and we were on our way to Georgia. The Argo and her company of Argonauts.
Twelve
An Itch
Flying Over France
Afternoon into Evening
Wednesday, 14 April 1954
Flying at sixty-five miles per hour and at an altitude of eight hundred feet, the Argo crossed the English countryside to Portsmouth, where she turned southeast for Rouen, France. At one, while we were over the English Channel, our dinner was served.
Admiral Rosendahl joined us. Before we started in on our first course, which was clam chowder, he gave a short speech.
“My fellow Argonauts,” he began, “I want to apprise you of our route to Georgia. We will cross France on a line from Rouen to Marseille. We will then fly across the Mediterranean to Turkey, cross Turkey and the Black Sea, and end on the coast of Georgia. There, you will depart the Argo and begin your search. Any questions?”
Dunyasha asked, “Who’s in control of the ground where we’re going?”
“Very good question,” Rosendahl said. “At the moment, the Georgian Liberation Army controls the area. They, however, trust no one and are only loosely working with the Czarists to push back a Communist offensive. The Italians are aiding, mostly the Czarists, by providing air support. They won’t commit ground troops because of the shellacking they took at the hands of the GLA recently. There is no love lost between the Italians and the Georgians at the moment.”
I asked, “Why are the Italians helping the GLA, even if indirectly, when they were just defeated by the GLA?”
“Another good question,” the Admiral said. “The Italians, GLA, and the Czarists are against the Soviets. But that is all that unites them. Otherwise, all three groups want Georgia. The GLA wants an independent Georgia. The Czarists want Georgia as part of the new Russian empire. The Italians want Georgia as part of their new Roman empire. Of course the Soviets are trying to hang on to the country as one of their Soviet Socialist Republics.”
