Somewhere, a series of horns blasted out a long tempo, echoing among the buildings. Twombly sighed. “And you think he might be back here on his old stomping grounds, with his working-class buddies?”
“That was the general thought.”
Twombly laughed bleakly, reached into his pocket, pulled out a leaflet. He passed it over, and Sam unfolded it. Looking up from an old photo was Tony. The message printed under the photo said Tony was to be refused admittance to the Yard, and if he was spotted, to contact security at once.
“About a couple thousand of these have been printed up and passed around. Workers, administrative staff, naval officers, even the marines—every one of them has gotten this leaflet. Each guard station has it posted, too.”
“Impressive.” Sam passed the leaflet back. “When did you get word he was an escapee?”
“Two days ago. Like I need one more goddamn headache to worry about.”
“Still—”
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Maybe he got smuggled by a sympathetic coworker. You can forget that crap. When your brother was sent up to Fort Drum, about a dozen other guys were fired and blacklisted. No offense, but if your brother shows up at the Yard, he should wish I get to him first. Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
Sam walked with Twombly while the security man started talking randomly, as though he needed a sympathetic ear. “Heard somewhere that summits like these, big-time meetings, usually take weeks or months to put together. And us lucky bastards got just under a week to put something together involving the goddamn President of the United States and Herr Hitler himself. Up there, see that building?”
The three-story brick structure ahead looked like an elementary school. Twombly gestured to it with his burning cigarette. “That’s where it all happened back in 1905. Russians and Japanese did their thing here, with Teddy Roosevelt leading the negotiations. Building Eighty-six, the administration building. That’s how TR got his Nobel Peace Prize the next year, for ending that war. Lucky for him, there’s no process for revoking a peace prize. Seeing how the Russians and the Japs are both busily butchering thousands on a monthly basis.”
In front of that building, Sam saw his first German flag on shipyard soil. Something inside of him chilled, seeing the swastika flapping in the breeze on an American military base.
“That’s where they’ll be tomorrow afternoon,” Twombly continued. “Long and Hitler. See by the door? That’s a plaque, commemorating Roosevelt’s peace treaty. Think they’ll put up another plaque when those two clowns finish their bloody job?”
Sam said, “No, not really.”
“Yeah, that’s a vote of confidence if I ever heard one.”
Two marines guarded the entrance. They looked ashamed to be standing underneath the flapping swastika.
“Come with me,” Twombly said, leading Sam into another, taller, brick building. Twombly shut the sliding metal door, and the open-grill elevator made a rattling, hollow noise as it ascended four stories. At the darkened top floor, Twombly opened another door, and they went outside to a tar-covered roof.
A squad of armed marines stood in one corner, dressed in dungarees and fatigues. Their squad leader looked over at Twombly, and Twombly waved a greeting, took Sam to the edge of the roof.
From there, they had an expansive view of the shipyard, river, harbor, and Portsmouth itself. Off to the east, where the river widened, were the dark gray smudge of the Atlantic Ocean and the island community of New Castle. Before them were the cranes and docks and scaffolding, and Sam could make out the hulls of two submarines under construction. Nearby were the massive concrete and turrets of the Portsmouth Naval Prison, and there, across the river, rising above it all were the brick buildings of Portsmouth and the North Church spire.
“That’s the way it is,” Twombly told him. “Marines on every roof, observing everything coming and going. More marines and shore patrol in the buildings and on the grounds. It’s the same over in Portsmouth. In a few hours, the day shift ends and the second shift is canceled. Only security and summit personnel will remain behind. Trust me, Inspector. Your brother may be somewhere around here. But he’s not in my Yard.”
It was cool up on the roof, a strong salt-tinged breeze coming in from the ocean. Twombly said, “Hold on a sec. Going to borrow something from these leathernecks.”
He walked over to the marines and returned carrying a pair of high-powered binoculars. He brought the binoculars up and, after a few seconds, said, “Ah, there you are, you little bastard. Here, take a look. Out by the horizon, to the north of the main harbor entrance buoy.”
Sam took the binoculars. A passenger liner came into focus, at anchor by the shoals just outside of the harbor. From the stern, a large Nazi flag moved in the breeze. There were other ships out there, cruisers and battleships, off in the hazy distance.
