Let Slip the Dogs of War: A Bard's Bed & Breakfast Mystery #1 (17 page)

“Stop here. Put your hands on the wheel,
Beatrice.” I did as I was told, all the while trying to think. What
would Ben do? That Vermonter train was going to show up at any
moment, on its way to St. Albans. I remembered what Uncle Edward
said. I had to do what was right, even if it meant dying to get the
job done. My responsibility to this little war victim was what
drove me to say what I said. As the Russian spy got out of the back
seat, opened my car door, and fastened my trembling hands to the
steering wheel with plastic straps.

“Please, Yuri...Grigoriy...I am begging you.
Be a better man than your father was. Please don’t make this child
watch. Please don’t destroy what is left of her childhood by making
her witness my death.” My words came out as low and as soft as I
could make them. I put as much sincerity and humility as I could
into each one. He squatted down beside me, to check that the straps
held fast, and as he did, I saw him studying me. I tried one more
time. “Please.”

He gave me a slight smile, a tiny shake of
his head, and shut the door. In the rearview mirror, I saw him
stride away.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I am so very sorry,
Wardah.” My eyes filled with tears, as sorrow sought to crush me
long before the engine chugged down the track. I knew the Swiss
Army knife was still down my blouse, nestled in my bra. I could
feel it. Did I have time to use it? I was just about to hug the
steering wheel in my effort to find out when the rear door
opened.

“Ta’alay maa’ee!” Yuri commanded Wardah. He
waved her on impatiently. She carefully slid off the seat and he
roughly took her tiny hand, almost yanking her along with him. As
soon as they were headed back towards Main Street, I reached for
the knife. Working frantically, I tried to grasp it, aware of how
little wiggle room I had. My fingers felt like boneless sausage
links as I struggled to pull out the blade. Even as I sawed at the
plastic, I could hear the sound of the train coming down the track.
Twice, I sliced the skin of my wrists as the tip penetrated here
and there. Wincing, I just ignored the pain and kept at it. I had
just broken through the strap confining my left hand when my car
door flew open and Ben appeared.

“You know, I would have had this in another
minute,” I told him. “I just want to point that out for the
record.”

“Well, babe,” Ben laughed, taking the Swiss
Army knife out of my grasp and cutting the remaining strap, “I’ll
be sure to inform the media. Now start the damn car and get it the
hell off the tracks!”

We all looked at the headlight of the
oncoming train, half a mile away. My fingers grabbed the ignition
key and turned it.

“And for God’s sake, don’t flood the engine.
Just take a breath and go slow.” Ben stepped back and I steered the
Subaru forward, traveling another hundred feet or so, just to be
sure I was far enough off the tracks. Then I tore off my seatbelt,
flipped the door handle up, and pushed my way out of the car and
into the waiting arms of my husband.

“How did you get here?”

“Mavis and I got a car in Burlington and
drove up here. Where is Wardah?”

“I asked Yuri to take her, so she wouldn’t
see me die.”

“You did what? Bea, what the hell were you
thinking? You just gave the Russians a pawn!”

“I couldn’t let her die, Ben. And I didn’t
want her to watch me die!”

“We have to find her! We have to get her
back!” Ben shoved me at the car. “Hurry up and get in!”

Ben slid behind the wheel and started the
car. My legs weren’t working. I held onto the car, trying to stay
upright as I crawled along to the passenger side. As soon as I was
in, he swung it around, trying to figure out if he had enough time
to beat the train across the tracks. He didn’t. The gate had
already closed, and even though he would have gladly busted through
it, the train was just too close.

“Well, Merry Christmas to me! This is a royal
cock-up!” Ben was steaming mad. “How could you think I wouldn’t get
here in time? Didn’t you see that little locket light up?”

“I couldn’t take the chance, Ben,” I sighed.
“I don’t think he meant to take her with him.

“Of course he did! The man is a monster!”

Car after car rumbled along the tracks before
we saw the caboose. I saw the faces of the passengers in the
windows as they traveled the final miles to St. Albans. The
clicking and clacking of the train seemed to go on forever. My
husband’s jaw was tight as he waited impatiently.

“Come on! Come on!” he growled, as if he
could intimidate the train into moving faster to get out of his
way. At last, the final car bumped over the track, the gate opened,
and Ben hit the gas. We got as far as twenty feet when I
screamed.

“Stop!”

Ben hit the brakes and when the car had
slowed to a stop, threw the transmission into park. I was already
out of that car, running down the road towards the little figure
standing down the middle of the road.

“Wardah!”

“Bea!” It was the first time she had called
me by name, and the sound of it was as sweet as honey. I wrapped my
arms around the frightened child, holding her against my pounding
chest.

“Is she okay?” Ben came up behind us, wanting
to check her for injuries. “Did that bastard hurt her?”

We heard the sound of a motorcycle engine
roar to life. Seconds later, a dark silhouette appeared in the
road, emerging from the bushes. All three of us looked up in
surprise as the driver raised a hand and sped off.

“Was that Yuri?” Ben was stunned. I nodded,
suddenly heartened by the turn of events.

“He let her go.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Maybe he has some of his mother’s genes
after all,” I suggested.

“Maybe.” Ben picked up Wardah and carried her
back to the car in one arm. The other he wrapped around my
shoulder, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. “He wanted you
dead.”

“True,” I acknowledged. “It’s a good thing
you put my knife back in the cup holder.”

“I didn’t,” my husband insisted. “I thought
you lost it in the woods.”

“I did, but I thought you found it and put it
back.”

“Wasn’t me,” Ben insisted.

“Wasn’t me either,” I said. “You don’t think
it was Yuri, do you?”

“Lord knows. It could be Yuri expected you to
free yourself.”

“No. How is that possible? Those straps were
on tight. You saw that.” I held Wardah on my lap as we headed back
to the Bard’s.

“He counted on you to be a fighter, Bea. He
gave you a chance to escape. You must have gotten under his skin.
What did you say to him?”

“I merely asked him to be a better man than
his father.”

“Hmm...” Ben was pensive, lost in replaying
the event. “Unusual behavior for a spy. I still wouldn’t trust him,
Bea.”

“No,” I agreed. “That wouldn’t be a good
idea. You think he’ll be back?”

“Oh, yes. You can count on it.”

Chapter Eighteen --

“Who would like a piece?” I cut into the
hummingbird cake, covered with coconut, and carefully extracted a
luscious slice with pineapple filling oozing. Wardah’s eyes grew
large and as I held it out to her, she nodded. Fatima said
something to her in Arabic and the little girl’s dropped to her lap
as she hung her head.

“Start with the adults, Bea,” Lorna advised.
“Children are on the bottom of the pecking order back home and we
do not want to cause confusion or sow the seeds of dissent.”

“Good idea,” Mavis agreed. We were all
sitting in the dining room, having coffee and dessert. Wardah was
sitting in Fatima’s lap, the two girls inseparable since their
reunion. As the cake made its way around the table, I finally asked
Fatima if she would like some.

“Yes, please. I love coconut.” Her hands
reached out and accepted it, placing it on the table in front of
her.

“Wardah, would you like some cake?” I held
out a plate to her.

“Yes, please.” Ah, her first words of
English. She was mimicking her older sister. That was good. It
meant she was motivated to learn, very important for her future
enrollment at the local elementary school. She slid off her
sister’s lap and back into her own chair, picking up her fork
before looking around the table. We were all digging in, but she
hesitated, until she saw her big sister take a forkful.

“Delicious, Bea.” Uncle Edward was thoroughly
enjoying his piece. I noticed Mavis finished the narrow slice she
requested and was now looking at the remaining half on the cake
plate. I slid it across to her and she helped herself to
another.

“What can I say? It’s been a tough day. I
burned off a lot of calories.” She placed another piece on her
plate. “Not to mention it’s sinfully good.”

There was a little gasp. We all looked up at
Fatima, who seemed horrified.

“Figure of speech,” Mavis told her.
“Ay-yi-yi, how do I explain this to you?”

“The cake itself is not sinful,” Lorna
explained. “You aren’t committing a sin by eating it. But it tastes
so delicious, it feels as if it should be considered a sin, because
you enjoy it so much.”

“Ah,” Fatima nodded. “May I please have
another piece also?”

Wardah watched with fascination as she saw
her big sister help herself. And then she looked to me.

“Fatima,” I said. “I think Wardah would like
another small piece of cake. Would you please cut one for her?”

“Of course,” she smiled, hands on the cake
knife. Wardah gave me a wide grin.

“Mmm!” the little girl smiled, one hand
rubbing her tummy. Fatima leaned over and whispered something in
her younger sister’s ear. Wardah nodded and tried on an English
word for size. “Good.”

“Bravo,” Uncle Edward cheered, tapping his
fork on his plate at the remaining crumbs, as we all joined in the
applause for Wardah’s effort. “The cake
is
good.”

“Why don’t I settle the girls for the night?”
Lorna offered. “I wanted to show Fatima the library, in case she
would like to find a book to read.”

“Wonderful,” Uncle Edward agreed. “That will
give us a chance to talk business. We have a few things to clear
up.”

We all said our “good nights” to the girls
and waited politely as they made their way out of the dining room.
It struck me that Lorna and the Shakespearean scholar had made this
arrangement before dinner, which mean that Uncle Edward really did
want to discuss the matter of Yuri with us. We could see Lorna, the
Jane Austen fanatic, pointing out a shelf in the room across the
hallway.

“Let me guess,” I snickered. “
Mansfield
Park
?”

“No, I vote it will be
Emma
,” said
Ben, passing the carafe of coffee.

“Wrong,” Mavis corrected my husband. “It will
be
Sense and Sensibility
.”

“Ten bucks says you’re all wet,” Uncle Edward
insisted. “It will be
Persuasion
.”

“I heard that!” A smiling Lorna stood in the
doorway, wagging her professorial finger at us. “And you’re all
wrong. We’re starting with
Pride and Prejudice
. So
there!”

Once we heard three sets of footsteps on the
stairs, Uncle Edward leaned back in his chair. “Shall we get down
to brass tacks? What happened on the train tracks was most unusual,
for several reasons. Bea was strapped to the steering wheel, but
she managed to get loose because her Swiss Army knife was in the
cup holder. Yuri took Wardah out of the car at Bea’s request, so
that Wardah would not be forced to see the train demolish Bea’s
car. Ben managed to arrive in time to cut the last strap on Bea’s
wrist....”

“Which I could have managed by myself,” I
reminded them.

“Yes, Bea,” Ben groaned, adding an
exaggerated roll of the eyes, “we are all aware of the fact that
had I not arrived, you still would have succeeding in freeing
yourself.”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“You’re welcome. You’re a superstar. Now can
we get back to reality for a minute, Mata Hari?”

“Fine,” I agreed sweetly, knowing it was
chaffing Ben’s boxers to acknowledge that he was not my knight in
shining armor. I left out the part about how, had the train been
closer to the car, I probably would have lost my mind in a total
panic. Why encourage his smug side?

“Fine,” he replied, automatically trying to
have the last word.

“As long as we’re clear on that,” I threw
back at him.

“Oh, trust me,” said Ben, crossing his arms
and glaring at me. “We’re clear. Next time, I’ll just stand by
while the train hits you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I retorted.

“No, you meant....”

“Children, children. Enough,” chastised Uncle
Edward. He turned to Mavis. “Any thoughts?”

“The question is what changed Yuri’s
behavior? It’s very unusual for a Russian officer with his training
and status to allow a target to escape a planned death, let alone
to help a child whose parent is of intelligence value to the
Russians, without exploiting the situation.” Mavis was all
business, looking for cracks in Yuri’s armor, no doubt hoping she
could exploit one or two of them. Ben picked up his spoon and
stirred his coffee before contributing his biggest concern.

“The most important question is how did Bea’s
Swiss Army knife get back into her car after she left it in the
woods.” Ben didn’t believe in coincidences.

“No, the most important question is did he
kill Nizar because he was working with Philippe against the
Syrians, which would mean Philippe was there for the DGSE or the
Russians, or did Yuri kill him because Nizar was in the way of an
Iranian effort to penetrate, with Russian assistance?” Uncle Edward
folded his arms, watching us from his position at the head of the
table, continuing the discussion. “We still have to consider the
role Afarin played, since she was so instrumental in bringing down
Marbury Books.”