Jim DeFelice - The Golden Flask

"I will go there on one condition."

"Name it," said the Dutchman.

"We cannot abandon Jake," said the girl firmly. "We must help him this last time."

"He has Daltoons's entire troop at his call," said the Dutchman. "They are meeting with reinforcements from Culper and will take over the farm and stand guard. Half the British army could arrive and they would be safe. We are as superfluous as a comb on a rooster."

"Perhaps I am," suggested the girl, "but what of yourself? What would have happened at the engineer's if you were not there to rescue him?"

"True," admitted van Clynne. "I did, after all, save the day. Many a time, I have had to pluck him from the fire just as his coat was singed."

"He has already died once today without you. What if you are not nearby a second time?"

The Dutchman contemplated that possibility. Actually, he did not worry so much about Jake as Egans, whom he believed would have a difficult time lying. This was a fatal flaw shared by all Iroquois, or so van Clynne believed. And the problem could, in turn, lead Jake to difficulty.

Besides, if they were starting from two different points, it would be difficult to coordinate their rendezvous on the Jersey shore. And despite Jake's long-winded assurances, he would undoubtedly feel obliged to leave for Washington without him. Van Clynne was loath to lose his opportunity for an interview with the general a second time.

"Perhaps we should reconnoiter the area as a reserve squadron," he suggested. "But they have already met you once; I'm not sure what pretense we can invent for your arrival."

"They know me only as a boy. They won't recognize me as a girl."

"Bauer saw you at the hill."

"There is an old dress upstairs, and I will wear a hat. You, on the other hand, have already been seen in your disguise as a doctor; you will have to find a disguise or stay hidden."

"Claus van Clynne never hides. That is a coward's way.”

"I am warning you, girl,” said van Clynne a bit later, as he submitted, albeit reluctantly, to Alison’s barbering skills, “one nick and I will retaliate with appropriate measures. A strong paddling would do your soul good, I daresay."

"I used to shave my father every day. Now hold your mouth still — if that is possible."

"Impertinence. Impertinence in the young. In my time, it was unheard of."

"I am not as young as you pretend, and you are not as old," said Alison, who now had the advantage of seeing van Clynne's face — or a quarter of it — without its customary beard. "I doubt you are beyond thirty, if that. Now be quiet or we shall never arrive in time."

"Owww! What was your father's face made of? Iron?" Van Clynne reached up and grabbed her hand.

"Don't be such a baby," said Alison, freeing her wrist with a snap. She dipped the long straight-edge razor in the soapy warm water and prepared for another swipe. "A little bloodletting is good for your vapors."

"My vapors are in perfect condition, thank you. And I would expect you to show proper deference, now that I have condescended to allow you to shave me."

"Condescended?"

"Shaving is a sacred rite in the Dutch way of things, my dear. It is not every young woman who is accorded the privilege."

"Honored, I'm sure," said Alison sarcastically, plucking tightly at the next hairs and ignoring the ensuing howl. "When was the last time you washed your beard? I believe I have found a bird's nest here."

The last time he had been in this mansion, Jake had arrived in a dazed condition with an armed guard at his shoulder. Still, he had enough of an idea of the layout to narrow Clayton Bauer’s office down to one of two rooms in the western corner of the house. With Bauer gone, it would be the best place to hide — and would also give him a chance to search through the spymaster’s papers.

Both rooms had windows facing the Hudson. Jake chose the corner to try first because it was closest to him as he moved through the woods from the side.

Though his wounds had been redressed at the Smith house, he did not want to push his battered leg harder than necessary. He walked forward slowly, glancing through the trees down toward the beach where he had washed up some days before. The disguised Libertymen had already appeared on the river; he had only a few minutes to get inside if he was to beat Egans.

The company of redcoats assigned to Bauer had returned in foul moods from the earlier diversion sent to them by Culper's men. Roused from bed to attend a false report of rebels attacking the rocky shore upriver, all they had to show for their adventures were skinned knees and bruised shins. The sentry posted at Jake's corner of the house was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he leaned against the building.

Jake kept the man's shiny coat in view as he half-crawled, half-trotted past a shed which housed mowing equipment. He just managed to roll against the side of the building when he heard voices approaching from the rear; the low shrubs were enough to hide him only because the two sentries were talking rather than paying attention to their duties.

The men were discussing whether their company's assignment would be changed now that Bauer had been killed. Neither seemed to like the "uppity colonist," but they realized the chore of guarding him had been comparatively easy. The unit headquartered up the road a quarter mile away had been put on notice to prepare for an "expedition at sea." They worried over the cryptic phrase and whether it would soon describe their fates as well.

The talk faded as the guards called to their mate by the house. He shouted a one-word response and they reversed course, patrolling in the opposite direction. Their assignment doubtlessly called for them to walk the vast yard's perimeter in parallel, not tandem. Jake, ever the military commander, could not help but shake his head as he bolted to his feet and did his best imitation of a sprint toward the building.

The sentry did not notice him until the patriot's knife was slitting a peephole at his throat.

Jake propped the dead man against the house, hoping the others would not return before they were replaced by Daltoons's squad. In any event, he would look from the distance as if he were sleeping.

The window nearby was open a crack. Jake went to it, listened a moment to make sure the room was empty, and decided he was unlikely to find a situation more inviting. He slipped inside with less care than a sparrow entering her nest.

This was not Bauer's office, unless he had suddenly gained a very feminine side. Even if the rich yellow and pink coverlet on the bed hadn't made it clear that Lady Bauer was staying here, the room was thick with her lilac-scented perfume.

Jake was adjusting his eyes to the dim interior light when he heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. He ducked and started to slide beneath the thick mahogany bed before realizing he couldn't squeeze in; the only other place to hide was behind the large curtain at the window he had entered. He was halfway there when the door opened behind him.

"You?"

Lady Patricia's voice held him suspended in midstep on the velvet rug. Jake took a breath, then turned to see her standing in her unclasped dressing gown, hair down, hands open at her sides. The hard soap of pain had scrubbed the pores of her face; rarely had mourning worn such beauty.

"I am Christof Egans, a messenger from General Burgoyne. I was ordered by the general to extend greetings to his honor Mr. Bauer before proceeding to General Clinton's headquarters."

The redcoat guard, standing at the top of the path from the beach, endeavored to keep his eyes off the strange markings on the man's face and chest. Nonetheless, his contempt for the visitor was undisguised.