Chapter 8: Wall Street Swastika: The Queen’s Room
Dora, Edward, and Churchill were foiled in their latest attempts to transfer the Lawrence maps to Professor Lindemann. It was becoming harder than a high wire act at the circus under the big top. They could not risk meeting publicly. They might be seen. And Churchill did not want anybody to know that Lindemann was associated with him. That was why meeting in a darkened theater had seemed like such a good idea. But they had been foiled even at that.
Churchill had idea of meeting in the Queen’s ballroom, the Queen’s Room, on deck 3. The Prof would be one of many men who asked Dora to dance. She would slip him the folder of maps hopefully when nobody was looking.
Dora first of all went to the seamstress. She was surprised that one was available. But so it was. So many of the ladies had brought frippery and finery for the ball that night in the Queen’s Room that the ship had somebody to tend to rips and tears at the last minute.
In her case she wanted the sewing lady to install a secret invisible pocket. She had packed the wrong gown at the last minute. She had been suprised that she was going to Europe at all. But then came the Wall Street Crash, and Edward had to have her sail to deal with the family business that was being left high and dry by the financial debacle.
She had grabbed the wrong gown. The other was better equipped with pockets. She put on her gown and modeled it. The seamstress quickly and neatly concealed a pocket amidst the many of folds of her classical muse costume. She had to go on a diet. The dress itself was unforgivably tight. It followed all her curves exactly without an inch to spare.
This pocket was brilliantly right at the neckline where the gown draped and folded itself over the top of her bosom. This pocket on the inside did not show at all. From the outside no one could tell it was there. In fact, Edward had tried to inspire Dora for the evening in the ship’s ballroom by meeting her in her cabin when Rita Jolivet was tending to buying clothes in the shops downstairs herself. He helped her drape it over herself just so. First of all, this dress had to have its own underwear designed not to show underneath. She had to take off all her daytime clothes and put them on one by one. When she was totally in the nude Edward took her aside to the bed and made love to her. They had not made love since before the Wall Street Crash. It all seemed very fiery and urgent. Times had changed in only a few days. But she got the message. She had to perform as Edward had, and she could not mess up.
But as soon as the dance was underway in the Queen’s Room and they started to exchange partners, an aggressive male dancer seemed to grab hold of her and move her aside right underneath the King’s and Queen’s portraits on the wall. He conered her in one part of the ballroom. When she tried to get away he would not let her. He kept her isolated there dancing just with him. She did not want to break off and run. That would not look right and might ruin their plan.
Edward tried to break in, but just at the last minute another man moved over there and started to dance with Dora, blocking Edward. He got so close he was touching her bosom. Then he started to reach for it as if he had been tipped off ahead of time. In a flash it occurred to Dora that the seamstress had been hired by the Dictator. She was a spy and had revealed the existence of the secret pocket in the neckline.
Dora slapped his face. She could not defend herself unless she created a scene and a big scene at that.
Ladies screamed and stood back. The Captain entered the Queen’s Room and was approaching. Suddenly a male passenger who acted as if he were drunk and tipsy came waltzing along with a laughing lady when nobody else was dancing. He let her go and grabbed Dora by both hands, kissing her on both cheeks. Then he danced out of the Queen’s Room with her. It was the Prof from Oxford! She had the presence of mind to quickly transfer the maps to her hands. He quickly stuffed them into his tuxedo and without missing a beat they danced back. The party seemed to resume. A few looks were cast her direction. But already the guests aboard the Mauretania seemed to forget.
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Chapter 7: Wall Street Swastika: Poor Ophelia
The next morning they went to the first class dining room for breakfast. Nervously Dora looked from side to side. She didn’t see any of the creepy German spies who had haunted them yesterday evening at dinner. Had they all decamped when Edward made the rogue who attacked her walk the plank? Did they want to avoid trouble? Had they been waiting for that ship that had been shadowing them to escape? Had Hitler sent it? Were they on their way to Germany right now?
Dora did not feel comfortable sitting in the dining room where last night they had encountered the rogues. Rita had sent her excuses that she was having breakfast in her cabin. But Dora had to sit there and endure it. Winston always insisted on having a full breakfast pefectly cooked. He said it was the only way to start the day. He had to have his wits about him, and his wits had to be carefully nourished.
He and Edward sat there discussing of all things the Lawrence maps themselves. Edward had them right now up his sleeve. Before the voyage was over they were supposed to rendezvous with Churchill’s best friend, Professor Lindemann of Oxford. The gentleman was aboard the ship right now. Winston was pretending he did not know the man. If they saw him they were not to say hello or wave. In fact, he was sitting across the room right now. Dora turned to see him reading the newspapers all by himself at a table next to the Roman pillar near the kitchen entrance. Waiters zoomed past the physics professor left and right and he did not eyeball one of them. Instead he seemed to be doing the crossword puzzle if Dora had to guess. He was marking things down on the newspaper itself.
“Do you have any word what the Dictator is up to right now since he got word of the crash?” Edward asked very low.
Churchill dug into his poached eggs on toast covered with heavenly hollandaise sauce with bacon on the side. Winston nodded. “I talked to Lindemann last night in secret in the men’s room on the lower level in the dark. He reported that Hitler isn’t wasting any time at all. His speaking engagements had been few and far between until last week. Germany is dependent upon short term loans in particular. The farmers are up in arms, one of Hitler’s bases of power to begin with. Others in the cities are starting to lose their jobs already.”
Dora shook her head. “But can’t they see that the stock market will recover one of these days?”
Edward sighed. “Not soon enough to keep the likes of the slippery footed Hitler out of power.”
“Hitler has been invited to the townhall in Nuremberg entitled Why Democracy Has Failed Germany: Time for a Change.” He sipped his hot chocolate.
Dora tapped her fingers nervously on the table.
“The Hugenberg Press is giving him an interview next week. He is going to emphasize how the Nazis never had anything to do with the Weimar government. He even has his eye on two posts in the Thuringian government. He wants to aim at the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Education. That way he can control the civil service, the police, and the schools. He says he can do anything after that.”
Dora could not believe this nightmare just because of a bad day of Wall Street. All right. A terrible day. But she had to remember that not everybody had her father’s money.
That evening they were going to meet Lindemann in the theater aboard the ship. Once the lights went out they were going to hand over the maps. That was another clever move by Winston.
Dora had gotten there first. She was saving the four seats near the stage. The Royal Shakespearian Theater was putting on Hamlet. Ophelia was about to be buried in a church yard near the castle in Helsingor.
Suddenly a strange man sat down next to Dora. She rose immediately, but he grabbed her by the hand. She did not know whether to scream and attract everybody’s attention. After all, she had the maps in her handbag.
She did not get a chance to think. The lights had just gone out. He slipped his hand over her mouth and put a gun to her back. She was forced to accompany him up the back staircase to the stage. Whatever he was up to she could not imagine. There was a wooden box that resembled a coffin. He was forcing her to climb into it.
No sooner had she laid down than stage hands picked up the coffin and carried her right out into the middle of the stage. The players were declaiming all around her in Act V, Scene 1 of Hamlet. The gravediggers are arguing with each other whether she should be buried here since she committed suicide.
Hamlet and Horatio enter stage left. They are talking about the various graves. Hamlet finds a skull he likes but says in a voice that sounds a bit too familiar to Dora, “Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him Horatio!” Why, that sounded like Edward! Or was it her imagination? Had they seen her get kidnapped? Had they sensed an elaborate plot afoot for stealing the maps in the middle of the play?
Suddenly Hamlet sees her coffin. He breaks into lamentations. He claims that he would eat a crocodile for Ophelia or even be buried alive with her. Laertes contradicts Hamlet in the voice of the thug who brought her up here to begin with. She hears Edward shove the thug aside as Claudius and Gertrude enter the stage and declare Hamlet mad. But Hamlet insists on leaning over the coffin of Ophelia and kissing her cheek. She has the maps ready and hands them to Edward.
The curtains close and Dora leaps up out of the coffin of Ophelia. Churchill is stage left calling to her along with Edward still dressed as Hamlet next to the real players who look totally befuddled as Edward, Churchill, and Dora flee the theater to take the elevator to their rooms where Professor Lindemann waits. Dora falls into Edward’s arms. It was another narrow escape.
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Chapter 6: Wall Street Swastika: Nazi Goons Walk The Plank:
Dora glared at the four goons at the other table. Oddly enough despite the fact that they had not succeeded in throwing Rita Jolivet out the window at the lighthouse and oddly enough even though they did not possess a single Lawrence map, the German spies looked as if they were wining and dining themselves tonight as the ship headed out to sea to begin the transatlantic crossing. They kept on calling for more bottles of champagne and inviting pretty waitresses to sit down at the table with them and join them. They appeared to be having a grand celebration right on board the Mauretania ocean liner, the sister ship to the Lusitania that the Germans had sunk at the beginning of the last war.
“Bring on some candles!” one spy cried out in broken English with a heavy German accent.
Another tossed deustch marks at a passing waiter. “Bring us some matches and some big wine cups. These are too puny,” he looked with disdain down at his crystal wine glass.
“Isn’t that fellow the one you shot, Edward?’ Dora leaned closer to her fiance. “Wasn’t he lying dead on the floor when we arrived to rescue Rita?”
Edward nodded as if half paying attention to what Dora was saying. He seemed focused on studying the table of spies before them.
“I was wondering why he was already so stiff lying there. I didn’t have time but I should have examined him more closely,” Edward said. “I bet it was planned. If they met any opposition they were to throw down a mannequin with a suit on and a gun and papers in his pocket. He even had that obnoxious note for us.”
Dora nodded. She could see what they were up to. It was all an act just to get their attention about the maps and let them know how serious the Nazi Party leader was in obtaining them. If Dora and Edward did not hand them over, she might lose a friend or two.
Her hair stood up on end when one of the spies waved at her and smiled.
As they left the dining room after dinner, they had to pass by the table of goons. Rita spat at them. But they waved at her, too. Unbelievably they cheered. By then Dora assumed the goons were more than a little drunk with all the wine, women, and song.
They retired to their rooms. The crew had managed to arrange for adjoining rooms for Rita and Dora. Rita kept on bursting through the door so many times that Edward excused himself and went to join Churchill in his cabin down the hallway. But when Dora came back from saying good night to her fiance, she paused at the door. At the end of the darkened hallway that had become still after midnight she could make out a figure of a man. He was so far away she could not make out his features. But his height and silent ways, his very soberness, did not remind her of the table of goons who had been drinking themselves silly a couple of hours ago. The silent form made her shiver.
She did not want to tell Rita about the man lurking in the hallway when she got back to her room. She had to try to settle her old friend down in bed. She did not want to pick up the phone and call Edward either. Rita might overhear. Maybe after the lady went to sleep. All Dora did was make sure that her door was locked.
She took her drink and sat down by the porthole gazing out at the blackened Atlantic Ocean with only a silver moon overhead with gathering clouds. She listened to Rita settling down to sleep. Then a hand from behind suddenly cupped itself over her mouth.
A gun pointed at her temple. “Give me the Lawrence maps, or I will push you overboard.” He dragged her out of her cabin —- she could not imagine how he had gotten in her to begin with, but he no doubt had all the talents of a spider —- and dragged her down the silent hallway past Edward’s room. Dora tried to warn her fiance by reaching out to kick the door. She did not do it very loudly before the creep swept her out on the open deck with no one else about.
He was raising her to throw her overboard when suddenly the man fell back. Edward had taken his gun from him and thrown it overboard. He was pointing it at the gunman. Dora fell into Churchill’s arms as the goon freaked. He climbed up over the railing himself and leaped down into the waves.
There was a ship shadowing them just one hundred feet or so away. Had the spy been picked up? Dora trembled uncontrollably as Edward had made the Nazi walk the plank when it could have been her instead.And there was nothing on earth so lonely as the vast Atlantic Ocean with no other soul about for hundreds of miles and a darkness so incredible it was positively hellish.
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Chapter 5 of Wall Street Swastika: Life on a Chinese Junk Boat
“Dora, they met me at the stage door!” Rita Jolivet exclaimed, throwing her arms around her best friend, Mrs. Byrne. “I couldn’t believe it. They practically dragged me out of the dressing room. I couldn’t even scream. They clapped their hands over my mouth.”
Winston, Edward, and Dora took Rita Jolivet in the tender back across the bay to the cruise ship still docked in the harbor with everybody aboard staring at them. When they disembarked on deck 1 Dora handed a tip to the nearest valet to get a cabin ready for Rita —- whatever was still available it didn’t matter. She was obviously sailing with them the rest of the way to Southampton for the next four days.
Dora took her back to the cabin she was sharing with Edward to change. Edward and Churchill made themselves scarce in the bar next to the dining room before dinner. As Rita used Dora’s shower, Dora searched for anything that Rita might want to wear. The two friends took the same size so it was convenient as far as that was concerned.
At dinner Rita chatted on and on about the way she was thrown into a car that speeded through New York to the harbor and threw her on a Chinese junk boat headed north. it was a regular commercial ship that made deliveries of supplies and materials. The ship’s crew had been all male. She had been caged in the hold of the ship. The crew had tossed her scraps of food to eat when they were finished with their meals. It did not matter how much she pleaded with them to let her go, they could not understand a word she was saying. After all, they spoke only Chinese.
She was hauled off the ship last night in the middle of the night. She had fallen into a restless slumber only to be rudely awakened and manhandled as she screamed and pleaded to be told what was going on, though she knew they could not understand her. She was dragged up to the top deck of the Chinese junk boat and thrown overboard to men in a small craft below. They were the German spies who had captured her at her stage door to begin with! She supposed they had also sailed on the Chinese junk boat. She just had not seen them until now.
They took her across the bay to the lighthouse and kept her in the lighthouse keeper’s old quarters locked up until more German spies came to help them. It did not matter if she screamed and pounded on the old wooden door with rusty hinges. On an island far away from other humans in a deserted lighthouse no one could hear her.
“They must have kept me locked up there until they had your attention!” Rita speculated as she dove into her platter of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding served on a big platter in the main dining room for first class. They saw you on deck eating. I remember now.” She put down her fork for a second as they served her a second helping of wine with her meal. “I know a little German. They were talking about Winston Churchill and Edward Ware. Apparently this was all for your benefit, a show of strength for the Nazi Party leader.” Rita visibly shivered.
Dora nodded. She expected that much. They must have been sent from Germany by Hitler.
“Then they forced me all the way up the spiral staircase to the very top of the lighthouse. When I refused to walk and fell down, they poked me with the butts of their pistols until I walked faster. At that point I didn’t care if I lived or died. I just wanted to escape their malicious, abusive hands.”
Dora could only imagine how horrible the experience had been.
“You poor woman!” Churchill patted her arm. “What we don’t all suffer in the hands of the wily German head of the Nazi Party. “The Wall Street crash was the worst possible thing that could have happened. Now he will take advantage of the world wide panic and fear to push his awful political program.”
Winston winced and asked for a Romeo y Julieta Cuban cigar.
“You don’t have to recount what it was like to be pushed off the top of the lighthouse!” Dora said sympathetically. “I can imagine.”
“I just could not believe that a group of men would do that to a poor defenseless woman such as myself!” She took out her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.
“The most important thing we need to know from you now,” Edward interrupted her. “Is this. Could you identify these spies if you saw them again?”
Rita nodded right away. She pointed across the room. “There are the rats right there!” She accused them. “They are all gathered around that table at the entrance to the dining room. They are all drinking and having a jolly good time. Even the one you shot seems to be there somehow. The bastards!”
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Chapter 4 of Wall Street Swastika: Rita
Dora could not be sure from this distance that the lady was Rita. After all, it was across the harbor. But somehow the bright print that she was wearing reminded her of Rita’s clothes. Also the sound of her voice was just like what Dora remembered.
Edward shot a look at Winston. “We have got to make it over there somehow.”
“The wily Hitler wants to take advantage of every opportunity,” Winston remarked. “He doesn’t waste any time. Wall Street crashing was like the starting gate. The gun went off. Hitler is already headed for the finish line.”
“Edward,” Dora pleaded. “We don’t have time to make it over there across the bay. They are about to force her out the window right now.”
Dora saw the women clinging to the edge of the concrete window sill, grappling for a hand hold while the miscreant inside the tower tried to do everything he could to knock her fingers loose and destroy her grip.
Edward took out his revolver. He had been an ace shot ever since his days during the Great War when he rode with Lawrence of Arabia. He quickly took aim and fired while Dora clapped her hands over her eyes. She could not stand to look in case he missed.
The lady screamed.
The Nazi agent who had been attempting to push the lady out the window at the top of the tower must have been hit. Dora did not see him anywhere. He clearly had not fallen out of the window. He must have slumped to the floor inside the lighthouse instead.
The lady was struggling to pull herself up. She had both hands on the window sill. She was attempting to get a foothold on the side of the lighthouse in the crevices between the stones.
“Can we make it in time?” Dora exclaimed.
“Over here!” Winston cupped his hands to his mouth. He had risen and was standing beside the ship’s rail. He was motioning and waving his hands arms about. He must be trying to get the attenton of a ship worker.
Soon a tender was being lowered down from an upper deck where it had been spending the voyage attached to the side of the ship. Normally the ocean liners did not use the tenders for any purpose except lifeboat drill withe crew and shore excursions ferrying passengers back and forth to land where there was no proper dock to tie up to. The tender was rocking back and forth before it hit the water right below where they had been lounging on the deck.
“Quick! Down to deck 1,” Edward yanked Dora to her feet. “We have got to board and get over there in a big hurry.”
Dora soon found herself floating across the bay towards the lighthouse while the lady still clung there unable to lift herself back up over the window ledge. She must fast be losing strength.
Behind them they were creating quite a scene on the ocean liner. The passengers were out on deck watching every move they made. The authorities must also have been notified, but Edward and Churchill were making it faster than the local police.
As soon as they hit the shore on Georges Island Churchill clambered off. Edward leaped onto the rocks. Dora straggled behind the men, trying to remember that she should not be wearing high heels. But nobody told her this morning that she was going to be saving people in a lighthouse by noon time.
The lady’s screams echoed through their ears as they climbed the spiral staircase inside the building. Edward grabbed the lady clinging there and dragged her inside the building.
Dora grabbed Rita Jolivet in her arms. They clung to each other and wept. They had seen Rita yesterday just before leaving New York. She was going to Paris to make a movie but had to stay behind to deal with her crashed bank account before sailing. Dora had given her a few thousand dollars to manage. They had made arrangments to meet at the Ritz on a weekend soon, and now here was her best friend in all the world being pushed out of a lighthouse.
Edward went through the papers of the Nazi thug lying on the ground. Winston was busy occupying the officious police who had climbed the tower behind them. He was deliberately keeping them out of the room in case Edward should find something sensitive.
“That bastard!” Edward exclaimed. “Look at this letter. It is straight from Hitler himself!”
Dora read the telegraph:
“Very clever, Mrs. Byrne. You leave for England and give the Lawrence maps to your best friend for safekeeping to give back to you later in Europe. But now we have the Lawrence maps!”
“Where are the maps?” Dora asked.
Edward pointed to his sleeve. They had been thinking of giving them to Rita Jolivet but had not done so. The Nazi party leader had been having them followed every step of the way to the ocean liner. He had made the wrong inference, but he had almost been right. He had left the letter with the Nazi agent to leave for them.
They had foiled Hitler but just barely. They were just one step ahead of the maniacal master mind.
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Third Chapter of Wall Street Swastika:
Dora and Edward retired to bed that night on the ship. They hid the threat from Hitler after sharing it with Winston. Winston wanted to save it to give it to the Prof, his friend from Oxford, to copy so he could keep better track of what Hitler was attempting.
Dora and Edward stayed in their cabin the next day and invited Winston over. They did not want to be seen in public on the ship. They could not be sure that Hitler had not stationed a spy aboard the ship to watch them and report back to the Fuhrer what they were up to.
Dora thought it was particularly eerie that Hitler has attached a note to a skiff at sea and let it crash against the ocean liner. The thing had looked like an abandoned boat and had haunted her dreams last night. It had even seemed ghostly.
The next day they woke up docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Their ship was tied up practically underneath an old lighthouse in the harbor. Dora asked the cabin steward. He said it was called the Georges Island Lighthouse. It had been here since 1876. She wondered why or if it was her imagination that she saw somebody at the top of the lighthouse staring down at her looking out her porthole window.
Winston suggested having breakfast on the deck in the deck chairs. Leave it up to the MP to like all the niceties that the cruise ship could provide. Dora did not want to encourage him. But she hardly had the courage to even tell Edward —- let alone Winston —- what she thought she had seen in the tower. She kept her eyes uneasily fixed on it as she sat down.
Dora could hardly study the menu. When the waiter showed up she said she would have what Edward had.
“Dora,” Edward chided her reproachfully, “your mind seems to be somewhere else!”
Winston had asked her a question. She had not heard what he had said.
“Mrs. Byrne, when you get to London, where are you going to stay?” Winston repeated himself.
“Oh, I just thought I’d stay at Ware Hall, I —”
She caught the look in Edward’s eye. He was shaking his head “no”.
She realized that might attract attention. They did not want to tip Michael off where she was. She had given him the lame excuse that she had to sail to England and then Paris because her old shipmate from the Lusitania, her best friend, was getting married.
“Oh, I guess I will rent a flat or stay in a hotel. Who knows?” she shrugged. That was not important now.
“Clementine would be glad to host you at Chartwell in the countryside. We don’t have any nosey guests right now, and that would keep you well away from the city and Hitler’s spies. Your husband also would be damn confused where to find you.”
Just then she happened to glance at the lighthouse across the bay. A gunman was leaning out of the tower aiming for them. Dora screamed as he began to fire.
Edward responded immediately without even seeing what was going on. He shoved her onto the floor and rolled on top of her. He knocked Winston under the table and overturned it. The tea things and trays went smashing to the deck as he used it as a shield. Other passengers farther down the deck screamed as the deck hand came rushing their direction.
A lady screamed and screamed and screamed.
“Edward, look!” Dora pointed up at the lighthouse tower. “It’s Rita Jolivet. They are going to push her out the window.”
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Malcolm Blair Robinson of England has also written a novel about the World War 2 time period and the lead up to it. Check out Hitler’s First Lady on amazon.com today. It is the story of a young lady who gets mixed up with the Nazis early in life to the point that she actually marries the Nazi Gauleiter of Hamburg and ends up in Hitler’s inner circle. But she sorts it all out later when she finally marries a Brit and moves to Britain in time for the Second World War. There she uses her old connections to the advantage of her new country. Suspenseful tale.
Malcolm will be attending the event on May 1 to kick off the publication of the novel the Salisbury Plot by Dora Benley. If you want to meet him, sign up for the Facebook Party today. Malcolm has also written other books available on Amazon such as Dynamic Quantitative Easing: An Idea for Growth, Downfall in Downing Street, The Judas Cross: Murder, Sex, and Dark Secrets, the Purple Killing, and Two Spooky Mysteries: A Gift of Treason and Stanislaw’s Crossing.
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Skiff At Sea: Chapter 2 of Wall Street Swastika:
Dora, Edward, and Winston Churchill are trapped in New York City the day that Wall Street fell and crashed through the floor in 1929. Winston, for one, lost all the investments he had in America.The stock for Adolphus Motors, Edward’s inherited auto company that his mother was attempting to run for him while he was away in the army, lost eighty per cent of its value. Only Dora was left to tell the others that she would make up for their losses if they would help because her father had never sold stock in his company and now probably never would. She would do anything to keep everybody on track defending the Lawrence maps despite the Wall Street crash.
Several days later after a short trip to Cape Cod to try to relax paid for by Dora, they all board an ocean liner for England. Dora is accompanying Edward this time. She does not want to go back to Pittsburgh. Michael has lost money on the stock market too. He called her yesterday. She does not want to hear from him. And she has to help Lady Ware in England salvage what is left of her family fortune.
But once on board Dora sees something strange out her porthole. Right before they leave for dinner in the dining room the first night at sea she sees an unmanned boat battened about by the waves, a skiff at sea. No one seems to be piloting it. She points it out to Edward who notifies Churchill who frowns and talks very low to himself, mentioning something about the Germans. Edward notifies the captain on the room phone.
At dinner the ship slows way down. It now seems becalmed in the water. Out the dining room window they can see a rowboat from the cruise ship approaching the skiff. All eyes are on it. People are leaning towards the windows to see what happens next.
“It must have come loose from its moorings and drifted out to sea,” the Captain announced as he entered the dining room. “There are all sorts of ports up and down the coast of New England as we approach the Atlantic Provinces of Canada in preparation for docking tomorrow morning in Halifax, Nova Scotia. The skiff at sea could have come from anyone one of them.”
After greeting his guests the Captain did not seat himself at his usual table. He pulled up a chair to seat himself with Churchill, Dora, and Edward. He waited until all eyes were occupied with the entertainment. They were having a parade of chefs along with music.
The Captain thrust a note at them. Churchill opened it. It was addressed to Winston Churchill, Colonel Sir Edward Ware, and Mrs. Byrne.
“Strange way to get your mail,” the Captain eyed them suspiciously. “It was attached to an oar inside the skiff. My men found it just moments ago.”
When they were alone Churchill opened it:
Thanks for the help in arranging the Wall Street crash over in America. It is the biggest help you have given me in years to advance my cause. Suddenly since yesterday I have had more requests to give speeches than I can possible fulfill. But do stay out of Germany. If I find you trespassing, you can be put to sea in your own skiff. No one will ever find you.
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Wall Street Swastika:
On the morning of October 24, 1929 Dora wakes up in her suite in the Waldorf Astoria in New York City. Her lover, Colonel Sir Edward Ware, wakes up beside her. Today is his last day in New York City and in America itself. They are supposed to wander down Fifth Avenue and stop in a jewelry store or two to buy her a memento of his visit, probably the last this year and this decade. Dora, Mrs. Byrne, sighs to think she must return to Pittsburgh where her Robber Baron father, President of Benley Tire and Rubber, holes up and where her husband in name only, Michael Byrne, works for her father. If only she could be returning with Edward in tow as her new husband! But that would require a divorce and scandal which Edward’s career cannot sustain.
Edward reminds her that they have to hurry. They are meeting Winston Churchill, the MP, and his partner in the Lawrence map intrigue for lunch on Wall Street. Winston is meeting with his Jewish friend and financier in America. But when they get there something out of the ordinary is obviously afoot. People are screaming down Wall Street, usually the sober financial capital of the US. Others are standing at windows climbing out on windowsills looking as if they are ready to jump.
They hurry into the restaurant only to find it deserted. They get a call from Winston. He asks him to meet him in his financial advisor’s office. He’s losing his shirt, everything he has invested in stocks in America.
She and Edward appear only to see the unbelievable. Stocks are indeed crashing. Dora’s father calls and proclaims how smart he was never to sell stock in his company. Winston tries to keep up everybody’s spirits as he goes down to financial ruin.
“No one has even thought of the worst effect of all this economic loss all around us. In Germany Hitler has risen to the head of the National Socialist Party. But for the past few years of prosperity he has been stopped there. He hasn’t won a general election yet. But now I am afraid this crash will unleash the powers of darkness.”
Edward pushed aside his own losses from what was left of his own father’s Adolphus Motor’s fortune. He realizes the real gravity of the day. Dora wonders what fate will have in store for them in the next few years.
Read Wall Street Swastika soon to be published by Cheops Books LLC as an Edward Ware Thrillers at War book.
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Commemorate The End Of World War 1 Next Year:
Cheops Books LLC two years ago published a special edition of Key to Lawrence to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Lusitania on May 7, 1915, one of the events that was to bring America into the war two years later on April 6, 1917. Key to Lawrence Special Edition starts out with the sinking of the ship, the seminal event that made the heroine, Dora Benley, want her revenge on the Germans for killing so many of her friends on the ship. Now next year at the end of 2018 Cheops Books LLC will be bringing out two special editions to commemorate the end of the Great War, or World War 1, one hundred years ago. The first will be Map Plot: the Armistice Edition that recounts the Battle of Damascus, the battle that Lawrence of Arabia and General Allenby won against the Turks to topple the Ottoman Empire and bring on the Armistice in Mesopotamia. The second will be still another edition of Key to Lawrence. It will be called Key to Lawrence Paris Edition to commemorate the Paris Peace Conference that ended the war in which Dora Benley and Lieutenant Edward Ware, not to mention Lawrence of Arabia, were intimately involved.
As Edward peers into the tent at midnight he sees a dark-robed intruder brushing past the figurine of an ancient Hittite king that he and T.E.Lawrence excavated at Carchemish this summer in 1914. Is this a spy sent by the Germans to steal the maps Lawrence is sketching for the British military? Edward can’t foresee that the encounter he will have tonight will draw him into a contest to the death first with the German Kaiser and then with Hitler himself. It will determine the woman he will marry and the woman he will not. It will drive him to the brink of madness in a century gone insane in Map Plot, soon to be brought to you to Cheops Books LLC.
Water rushed into the four, great smoke stacks of the ship as they, too, hit the waves. Tremendous, churning whirlpools sucked victims inside. A few were ejected, blackened with soot. Propellers rose above the maelstrom. The rudder lifted higher than the smoke stacks. The ship’s prow pointed down toward the deep. It looked as if the ship’s nose would hit the sea bed hundreds of feet below. The Lusitania sank in only 18 minutes after being torpedoed on May 7, 1915. Dora Benley vowed revenge on the enemy. Key to Lawrence tracks the beginning of her quest for justice in this special edition of the first volume of the Edward Ware Thrillers At War Series. It commemorates the 100th anniversary of the Great War, World War 1, and will be brought to you in still another special edition next year. Watch for it on http://www.edwardwarethrillers.org.
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Map Plot coming soon on Amazon.com