“So joining a fraternity is out of the question, I take it,” Ham Ballou said.
The others laughed again, but Bliss was not amused. “You take it correctly. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you shaved off your mustache. It makes you look older.”
Ham chuckled, then he caught the expression on the colonel’s face, and his smile faded. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything.” Bliss looked at the rest of the team. “Believe me when I say this… the outcome of the war, and the future of the United States, may very well depend on what goes on in here. From this point on, you’re no longer private citizens but military scientists working on a project at the highest levels of national security. Very few people… the president, the Secretary of State, and the White House science advisor, select members of the War Department and the intelligence community… are aware that this program even exists. So it goes without saying that you must keep what you know to yourselves.” Bliss paused, letting his gaze travel around the room. “Have I made myself understood?”
No one spoke. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the lab as they all glanced at one another. Then Goddard coughed into his hand. “Thank you, Colonel,” he said. “I think these men realize the gravity of the situation.”
“Would you like to continue the briefing, Dr. Goddard?”
“No,” Goddard said, “I’d rather get to work.” The others quietly laughed or hid smiles behind their hands as he stood up and strolled to the blackboard. “If I may…?”
Bliss moved aside, giving Goddard the floor. “Thank you,” Goddard said as the colonel took a seat at the table, then he looked at the team. “If I haven’t personally met anyone here already… well then, welcome to warm and sunny Worcester, the Paris of New England.”
Once again, everyone laughed. After Colonel Bliss’s no-nonsense approach, Bob Goddard’s deadpan humor was a relief. “This is the first time my wife and I have been back in quite a while,” he continued, “so a little housewarming party is in order. Esther and I would like to have you all over to the house next Saturday for a chicken dinner…”
“Dr. Goddard!” Bliss snapped.
“Oh, you’re invited, too, Colonel, if you’re still in town by then…”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t permit that. The team can’t be seen with you outside the classroom.”
Goddard stared at him. “Oh, good heavens… why not? Students have always come to my house.”
“The colonel’s right, sir.” O’Connor spoke up from his place near the door. “Security considerations… when you’re not here on campus, it would be unwise to have you seen with anyone who might be identified by German intelligence operatives as being another rocket scientist.”
“Oh, come on… German spies, really…”
“Always a possibility,” Bliss said.
“Damn,” Henry murmured to Jack Cube. “There goes a free dinner.”
Goddard glared at O’Connor and Bliss. When neither of them appeared willing to compromise or back down, he shrugged. “Well, then… perhaps another time. Maybe we should devote ourselves to the task at hand.”
Turning to the blackboard, he flipped its panel upside down, revealing what had been hidden on its other side: a chalk sketch of the Silver Bird on its horizontal launch track, with several rows of figures beneath it. “As you’ve already been informed, allied military intelligence recently learned that the German Army and the Luftwaffe are planning to build a manned spacecraft… what they call an antipodal bomber… which will be launched by means of a rocket-propelled sled moving along a horizontal track. This Silbervogel, as they call it, or Silver Bird, will have an approximate length of ninety-two feet and a wingspan of forty-eight feet, with a dry weight of approximately one hundred tons…”
As he spoke, Ham Ballou leaned over to Lloyd Kapman. “Man, I don’t like this,” he whispered. “Are we going to have G-men chaperoning us the whole time?”
“I hear you,” Lloyd replied, his voice subdued as well. “Can’t even visit the john without Frankie tailing us.”
“Yeah, well, look… I spotted a nice little bar downtown, right across the street from City Hall. Maybe we can shake the babysitter later and…”
“Gentlemen? You have something to add?”
Ham and Lloyd looked to see that Goddard had interrupted himself to look at them. So was everyone else in the room. “Umm… just discussing fuel options, Bob,” Lloyd said. “Alcohol-derived versus oxygen-hydrogen mix.”
A few knowing chuckles; some of the others caught the joke. The only people who didn’t laugh were Goddard, Bliss, and O’Connor. “Sounds interesting,” Goddard said, not smiling. “Perhaps you can discuss this later, though. For now, I’d like to have your attention.”
“Sure thing, Bob… sorry,” Lloyd said, and Ham nodded. As Goddard turned back to the blackboard, though, Henry glanced back at them. He gave them a quick smile and wink, and Jack Cube did the same.
Later, indeed.
As it turned out, getting away from O’Connor was almost ridiculously easy. A fire escape ran up the back side of the Birch Street boardinghouse; after dinner, each of the team members said good night to the others and casually went upstairs to his room, closing the doors behind him. After waiting a few minutes, they quietly left their rooms and tiptoed to the window at the end of the hall where the ladder was located. It was a childish stunt, but so far as the FBI agent was concerned, the scientists were tucked away for the night. By a quarter to nine, they’d walked down to Park Avenue and caught a streetcar that would take them downtown.
The big clock on top of Worcester City Hall had just struck nine when they got off the trolley. By then, the streets were nearly empty, the Worcester Commons quilted by heavy white snow that glistened in the streetlights. As the streetcar trundled away, the eight men stood huddled on the corner of Main and Front, hats pulled down against the wind and hands shoved in their coat pockets.
“Think we lost him?” Mike glanced nervously over his shoulder.
“Of course we lost him.” Gerry grinned. “Serves Frankie right for not watching the back of the house.”
“And even if he figures out we’re missing,” Ham asked, “how is he going to find us?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Mike rolled his eyes. “This is only the FBI we’re talking about.” Looking away, he spotted a neon BAR sign on the other side of the Commons. “Is that the place, Lloyd?”
“That’s it. C’mon, gents… first round’s on me.”
The eight men trudged across the Commons, trying not to slip on the icy concrete path. Crossing Franklin Street behind City Hall, they headed for the warm lights of what appeared to be a hotel taproom, passing a sidewalk newsstand along the way. Incredibly, the stand was still open, its elderly proprietor huddled against the cold. Seeing this, Morse figured that he must either be desperate for business or just didn’t have anything else better to do.
“Think they’re gonna let me in?” Gerry murmured, eying the bar warily. “I mean… guys, I’m just nineteen.”
“Sure they will. You look twenty-one to me.” Walking beneath the entrance awning, Henry grabbed the brass door handle and was about to open it when he looked back. “Hey, what’s going on? Aren’t you coming in?”
Everyone was about to follow him inside except Jack Cube. He’d stopped on the sidewalk, gazing at something displayed in the front window. “Umm… ’fraid not,” he said quietly. “I’m going to have some trouble with this place.”