She’s lying. But why? Thomson-Houston Electric doesn’t even stay Thomson-Houston Electric. At one point it becomes General Electric, and . . . oh. There it is. It all comes back to money, doesn’t it? Invest now and reap a huge reward when GE really starts booming.
I set down the teapot and steady myself. Corruption wafts through the air and threatens to choke me. I feel dirty right now, and no amount of scrubbing will wash away the truth.
Someone clears a throat. “Tea?” Bauer asks his guests in a tone that makes it clear I need to serve it already.
My head snaps up, but I don’t turn to look at him. I nod with my back to him and lift two teacups. My hands are shaking as I carry the saucers and set them on the table before Bauer and the man to his right.
Bauer drums his fingers on the table and cocks an eyebrow. “And what sort of investment are you proposing?”
I grab two more cups and set them on the table, then start back for the last two.
Eta clears her throat and folds her hands on the table. She’s trying to act confident, but from here I can see her foot tapping rapidly under the table. “It’s all outlined in our proposal,” she says. “We provide you with one hundred thousand dollars in capital, and in return we get a minority-ownership interest.”
Which she can then sell for a ton of money someday in the future, no doubt.
I set a teacup in front of Eta, and she doesn’t even glance in my direction. And so I stand over her and stare. Some crack operative she is. Disgust creeps up in my throat like bile. She took an oath. To her country. Did it mean nothing?
Did it mean nothing to my dad?
I want to kick over the cart and run from this room, but so far I haven’t learned anything that will help me identify CE. And I’ll be damned if I gave away my bracelet for nothing.
Bauer clears his throat again. “Does anyone take their tea with milk and sugar?” He’s staring right at me with a pointed look.
I snap out of it and scoot around the edge of my cart to get back to my tray.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Bauer says to his guests. “She’s new. It’s as if she’s never served tea a day in her life.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eta’s head snap up and over to me. I turn my back to her and pretend to busy myself with the milk and sugar. I can feel Eta’s eyes boring holes into my back. Does she suspect anything?
“Well,” Bauer continues, “I am a man in a rather enviable position. My initial investors were good to the company, so good that I don’t have to say yes to your proposal by any stretch of the imagination. So tell me”—I hear him flip over a stack of papers—“what other investments has Eagle Industries made recently? Why should I trust you?”
Eagle Industries. Who is running Eagle Industries? Come on, Eta, tell me.
“Well—” Eta begins.
“Milk and sugar,” Bauer says.
I grab the creamer and the sugar dish and set it on the table in front of Bauer, then I return for the plate of pastries. I use the silver tongs to place one on the edge of everyone’s saucer.
Eta clears her throat. “I am uncomfortable naming the other business deals in which we’ve recently taken part. You would grant my company some level of privacy, would you not?”
Bauer waves his hand in the air. “And I’ve seen nothing in your proposal that details exactly who makes up . . . what was it?” He flips the paper again. “Eagle Industries?”
I hold my breath.
“Nor will I tell you,” Eta says, sending my hopes crashing down to the ground. “For it is unimportant. What is important here today is that I have a great sum of money that I wish to invest in your company. If you tell me no, as is perfectly within your right, then I can certainly take my money elsewhere. Perhaps to Edison.”
Bauer juts his chin in the air and stands. He extends his hand across the table to Eta, who rises to take it. “I will take your proposal under advisement and get back to you within the week.”
Eta nods. “Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise.”
And with that Bauer spins and marches out of the room. The rest of the men follow, save for Eta. So much for tea service. I bend my knees and pretend to fiddle with a stack of plates on the bottom shelf. Disappointment washes over me. I don’t know anything about the men who make up Eagle Industries. Nothing. I pray Yellow finds out more, because Paris just isn’t an option unless we steal some money, which is way too risky. Not to mention illegal.
I hear Eta’s footsteps at the door. She hesitates for a second, and I wonder if she’s looking at me. Hoping I’ll raise my head. I pick up the six plates on top of the pile and move them to the bottom, then I stand and brush a few crumbs off the top shelf into my hand. She’s still standing there. She has to be looking at me.
And so I turn, though I keep my head bowed. “Is there anything I can get for you, m—sir?”
My stomach lurches. I almost called her ma’am.
Eta looks at me, and I keep my eyes trained on the floor like a timid baby bunny. But I do glance toward the table. Bauer took those papers with him. Of course he did.
“No,” she finally says. She tips her hat at me. “Have a good day.”
I nod to her and turn back around. I don’t take a breath until the door has shut firmly behind her. I don’t bother clearing the table. Instead I wait. I want to give Eta enough time to get out of the building. I could follow her, but I don’t see the point. It’s not like she’s going to head back to Annum Hall while mumbling under her breath the names of all the people who make up Eagle Industries.
But then I hear voices. Two of them, both female, getting louder. I freeze.
“She threatened me, ma’am!” an hysterical voice wails. “I think she means to harm Mr. Bauer!”
Annie.
Bitch.
I whip out my watch, set it to Christmas Day 1963, and disappear. I land in the same empty meeting room, but it’s changed. A lot. Gone is the massive wooden conference table and velvet-backed armchairs. In their place are a shiny white table with metal legs and beige leather chairs. The wood floor has been covered with a pea-green carpet.
For a second I wonder whether Annie is still alive. Whether she still has my bracelet. Then I shake my head. Let it go. I have more important things to do.
There weren’t cameras outside, but I’m not going to gamble that there aren’t any in the hallway. I hurl a chair through the window, drop a twenty on the table to cover some of the damage, then think better of it and pocket the cash. I feel bad, but I don’t want to hitchhike back to Boston.
Yellow is already there, pacing back and forth in front of the reflecting pool. A few people amble around, but for the most part the plaza is empty. It’s Christmas morning, after all.
“It’s about time,” Yellow says. Her hair is stringy and greasy. There are big black bags hanging underneath her eyes. And she smells like a public bathroom. I raise an eyebrow at her.
“What?” she says. “It took me two days to get to DC and back. Have you ever tried sleeping on a bus?” She cracks her neck left and right. “But that’s not important. What did you find out?”
I sigh. “Not much. You first.”
“I didn’t do any better.” Yellow hesitates for a moment. “It was your dad,” she finally says, confirming what I already knew deep down. “He went to a secret congressional meeting about the Manhattan Project.”
“The development of the atomic bomb?”
“Yep. Early stages. Your dad said he was from some company and wanted to invest in the development.”