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A porter helped Hutch pick up his wife and carry her to a secluded corner booth.
“We could use a glass of water here,” a portly man said to the porter. He held out his hand to Hutch. “Dr. Joseph Shields. It looks like you could use my assistance.”
“This is the second time today she’s passed out like this.” Hutch’s tone was more frustrated than concerned.
“Is there any underlying reason that you can think of, that would make her faint. Has she been sick lately? Has it been a while since she’s eaten? Anything like that?”
“Not that I know of, although she only picked at her food today at lunch. But everyone said that’s because we were getting married.”
“Congratulations! When’s the big day?”
“It was today. Like I said, she only picked at her food and then she fainted during the ceremony.”
“Well, that certainly could do it.”
“But now it’s happening again,” Hutch groaned. “ Why?”
“It could be wedding night jitters.”
“Oh, it’s not that, the lady and I have… Well… It’s not that.”
“I see,” the doctor replied. “Is it possible,” he paused, “Could she be with child?”
Hutch blanched, “I don’t know. Do you think she could be?”
“She would need a thorough examination for that to be determined. But considering what you’ve told me, it is a possibility.”
“A baby,” Hutch moaned.
“You did say you’re married.”
“Yes. But I hadn’t really considered starting a family.”
“You may have to consider it. Are you getting off in Baltimore?”
“No we’re going on to Washington.”
“There’s a good doctor in the Georgetown area. Here’s his name.” The doctor took out a card and wrote on the back of it. “Look him up when you get there. He’ll be able to give you a definitive answer.”
The porter returned with a glass of water. The doctor flicked a few drops of it on Bunny’s face and she pulled away. “She’ll be okay. But take her to the doctor. If she's pregnant, the sooner you know about it, the better.”
“Thank you.” Hutch shook the doctor’s hand.
When he turned to Bunny, her eyelids were fluttering open.
Pregnant. That was the last thing Hutch wanted. Children meant child support when the marriage foundered, and he was pretty sure this one wasn’t going to last long. Who needed a wife who fainted for the smallest reason? Even worse, who needed a wife who was going to tire herself out attending to a child, instead of him?
Oh, well, it didn’t matter. His lawyers would know exactly how to take care of the problem.
***
“Could you imagine Bunny as somebody’s mother?” Evangeline gasped. She and Nigel were sitting in an empty booth in the dining car.
“I don’t know, Evie. She may be pregnant, but I doubt it highly, considering she fainted right in front our favorite villain.”
“I really find it infuriating, Nigel, that you always have to say something logical, just when the topic gets juicy. Next time, could you humor me by agreeing with me, or by saying something completely frivolous and witty, just to give our mission the illusion of sophisticated fun?”
“I guess I really have changed since I died. There were times when I would have instinctively reacted the way you’re asking me to react. But now, with the Dominion watching over our shoulders, I guess I’ve become a stickler for regulations.”
“And I always feel guilty because it seems like I’m trying to lead you astray. I used to be the logical one, Nigel. Now, I feel like we’ve exchanged personae.”
“Maybe, if we work at it, we can meet in the middle, Evie. I’ll try to loosen up. But you have to be a little more serious.”
Evangeline shook her head and gave Nigel a wry smile. “Who knew death would be so frustrating!”
***
Polly Guggenheim was tightly controlling every aspect of her party. But there was one thing she couldn’t control. Her husband.
M. Robert Guggenheim’s only purpose in life was to please himself, even if it meant sneaking his mistress into the many parties hosted by his wife. His womanizing was always getting him into trouble, and if it weren’t for the family fortune, he’d probably be in dire straits. There were always stories circulating about "Bob" and they weren't often flattering.
To make matters worse, Bob was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican – the polar opposite of Polly's guest of honor - President Harry S. Truman.
Bob was a loose cannon who could shoot a major hole through what she hoped would be the major event of the season.
Maybe she should hire someone to follow him around and cover up his faux pas.
***
A lone security guard was watching over the Ferdinand Magellan. The train was sealed shut. The guard was there only to make sure nobody did anything stupid to it, like sabotage.
Frank Wilson flashed his I.D. and told the security guard to unlock the boxcar. He turned on one of the lanterns inside the car and looked from one end of the car down to the other. The Lincoln had been taken by flatbed truck to a service area where it was being repaired. Without the vehicle, the boxcar looked enormous.
Wilson instinctively knew exactly where the Lincoln had been parked. There were a few drops of telltale engine fluids staining the floorboards and wheel chocks were standing ready, nearby.
As he walked down the length of the car, he lit every lantern to chase the darkness away. Then he did many of the same things John Cullen had done. He looked for unexpected vents or openings where breezes might enter the car. He looked for trip wires. He even got down on his hands and knees, to search for anything unusual.
He looked once. He looked twice. He looked three times. But every time it was the same. There were no anomalies to explain why a pen would float in midair and then follow an unusual trajectory on its way to the floor.
***
Faust smiled. He had seen the look in Bunny’s eyes just before she fainted. She had recognized him and was scared.
She should be scared. He didn’t even have to do anything more. She already had possession of the candy, and that would surely do the job for him.
Maybe she had already had a piece. Maybe that was why she fainted.
No. It had to be pure fear that had sent her crashing to the floor. She had walked in under her own steam and hadn’t looked any the worse for wear.
He took a sip of wine and silently toasted himself. The only thing that could have been more perfect would have been the porter seating Bunny and Hutch at his table.
He imagined her squirming as she sat across from him, unable to explain herself.
The idea made him laugh at loud.
“Something funny, Mr. Jones?” Faust had been seated with a couple from Ontario, who were traveling to St. Louis to see their new grandson.
Faust nodded to the couple. “Yes, I was just thinking about the joy you’ll feel, seeing your grandchild for the first time, and it filled me with happiness.”
The wife smiled. “Oh, Mr. Jones, if only you weren’t getting off in Washington, you could meet our pride and joy, too!”
“I’m sorry I won’t be able to do that,” Faust said. “But allow me to toast the addition to your family.” And he raised the goblet to his lips and savored the wine within.
***
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