O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [115]
Amanda reached into her bosom and took out a teardrop-shaped vial on the end of the thin chain she wore.
“If you phone for your Pinkertons, they will find me dead on the floor.”
“Bullshit!” Horace roared.
Daisy was on her feet, in front of her daughter. Horace Kerr smirked, and clicked for the switchboard.
“If Amanda didn’t have poison, I’d find her some.”
He clicked again.
“Service,” the operator said.
“You don’t bluff Horace Kerr!”
“Service,” the operator repeated. “May I help you, Mr. Kerr?”
He hung up.
Daisy now held her daughter together.
“I will see Amanda safely away from here and I will brook no effort from you to lay a finger on her.” And Daisy voiced her first words of liberation: “Or they will know about it.”
“Who are they?” he asked.
“They are the they we spend every living hour of our existence trying to impress. They are your Republican cronies in the cabinet and your stout sailing pals and the bankers snickering over your headlines in their cozy clubs. They are your executives and your workmen at Dutchman’s Hook and they are your church. For a man who fears disgrace and scandal more than death, it would be a fitting end when they all learn about how Sir Henry Pearson adored my ‘beggar’s snatch.’ The diary of a life is already written and in safe hands. Are we free to leave?”
His eyes bulged. He gasped pathetically.
“That’s blackmail.”
“Indeed. Are we free to leave?” Daisy said.
“Go. Get out!”
Daisy trailed Amanda to the doors.
“Daisy,” he gasped.
“Yes?”
“Will you return?”
“Of course, Horace. Emily needs me and I am your wife, but the moment you try to send your goons into Nebo, I shall orchestrate the utter destruction of kingdom Kerr.”
• 36 •
LINE IN THE WATER
Three Days Later—Early December 1891
The guard unlocked the main door of the administration building. Ben entered quickly and glanced at the wall clock. It was two-thirty in the morning. Down the corridor his heel clicks resounded, cutting the silence. Ben turned into the secure area. The iron-barred gate of the code room opened.
“Coded communiqué by telegram, Major. I’ll have it decoded in a moment.”
As the machine spit out tape, the chief petty officer cut and pasted it on a message blank. Ben signed the log, took the message to a desk, and adjusted the lamp.
URGENT—SECRET—EYES ONLY BBOONE, USMC
FROM—RX MAPLE
DESTROY AFTER READING
SUBJECT—USMC GARRISON FOR AMNESTY ISLANDS
MEETINGS WITH ADMIRAL IN CHIEF US NAVY PORTER LANGENFELD AND STAFF HAVE NOT GONE FAVORABLY.
NECESSITY OF QUOTE LIMITED EXPEDITIONS AND CAMPAIGNS UNQUOTE IN THE FUTURE IS BUILT ON CONJECTURE AND UNPROVABLE THEORY.
FINAL CONFERENCE TO TAKE PLACE DEC 7 AT 0900 NAVY HDQS BEFORE RECOMMENDATION TO SECRETARY OF NAVY.
B BOONE REPORT NAVY HDQS WASH IMMEDIATELY FOR DEC 7 MEETING. BEN YOU MUST PRESENT NEW COMPELLING BULLETPROOF ARGUMENT OR CORPS WILL NOT GET AMNESTY IS
RX MAPLE
Ben made over the parade ground for the bachelor officers’ quarters. The light was burning in O’Hara’s room.
Zach’s behavior at the casino, three months earlier, could have turned into a major brouhaha. The navy wasn’t going to have its sainted reputation in Newport besmirched by a Marine.
Major Boone got to the superintendent, Rear Admiral St. Clair, first, and pleaded not to take Lieutenant O’Hara off “Random Sixteen.” Since the rear admiral knew the potential value of the study, Zach was slipped through with a rap on the knuckles.
Zach was determined to regain Ben’s trust and no manner of man put in the hours of work he did. His days consisted of three meals, often brought to his room, an hour’s exercise, and the rest of the time working, mostly in his room. He pushed himself into sitting sleep every night.
The sudden, unexpected message from Maple filled Ben with horror. There was only one way to read it. The anti-Marine people on Admiral-in-Chief Langenfeld’s staff were making a deliberate move to see that the Corps was phased out.
On this night, Zach lay