Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(50)
She postponed her original meeting and instead arranged for a ten o’clock appointment with Admiral McNally at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. She met Dimitri at the porte cochere behind her father’s house, where he paced impatiently.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked as she descended from the cab she’d hired. He seemed annoyed, but she looked exactly as she always did. Her slim-fitting suit was of the finest indigo wool, trimmed with velvet piping and completed with an ivory lace jabot at her throat. Her hat was trimmed with a matching ribbon band.
“I am dressed in a clean and respectful manner to meet an officer at the navy yard.” There would be no rending of garments or tearing hair free or passionate kisses in the dark. A shame, but today was about business.
Without warning, Dimitri leaned over and lifted the hem of her skirt, then tutted. “Those boots are completely inadequate for walking across the Brooklyn Bridge.”
She yanked her skirt free and took a step back. “Why would we do that?”
“I told you my first day here that this was important to me.” His eyes glinted with challenge while looking down his long, aristocratic nose at her. His ridiculous assumption that she had nothing better to do than take him sightseeing was exasperating and charming at the same time. They needed to cross the bridge anyway, but they didn’t have much time before the meeting.
“We can walk over the bridge after our meeting with Admiral McNally,” she said. She was proud of that awe-inspiring bridge and wanted to see it through his eyes.
It took almost an hour to get to the navy yard, a sprawling complex of dry docks, warehouses, and assembly yards facing the East River. Two tiers of cannons lined the riverbank, a memento of a time when the city’s greatest danger was a naval invasion.
Admiral McNally’s office had a commanding view of the shipyard, but the other three walls were blanketed by world maps and military accolades. A Turkish carpet covered the floor, and the bookshelf featured Greek pottery and jade carvings she suspected came from his many years as a military attaché at various postings throughout the Ottoman Empire.
Although the admiral was her godfather, he was her father’s friend, not hers. After she introduced Dimitri and explained his role on the Trans-Siberian project, Admiral McNally tersely consulted his pocket watch before gesturing for them to sit.
“I’m glad my secretary was able to squeeze you in,” he said after taking a seat behind his desk. “This week is dense with budget meetings, but I can spare a few minutes for my favorite goddaughter.”
It was a polite order to get directly to the point, and she complied. “I remember listening to your tales of when you were a military attaché during the Ottoman wars. You said the military still has men all over the world, watching and gathering information about other countries. Dimitri saw some terrible things along the Russian border with China, but it does not appear that news of this atrocity has reached American shores.”
Admiral McNally quirked a brow and turned his attention to Dimitri. All hint of impatience vanished as he listened to Dimitri describe the expulsion of the ethnic Chinese across the river and how an exodus turned into a stampede and then a slaughter.
Natalia clenched her fists beneath the table and asked the all-important question. “Did the Americans have any military observers in that part of the world last year?”
Admiral McNally shook his head. “Not that I am aware of. Your best bet is to hunt down a fellow named Dr. Louis Seaman. He works as a medical observer on behalf of the surgeon general. Last year he was stationed in Japan to study how they handle sanitation issues. He reported rumors of atrocities he’d heard from Russian soldiers who deserted the army, and yes, they were near the Amur River.”
“What sort of atrocities?” Dimitri demanded.
Admiral McNally held up his hands. “I don’t know the details, but I witnessed Dr. Seaman arguing with the Russian ambassador at a State Department reception, and it got heated. Dr. Seaman wanted the ambassador to answer for the rumors, and the ambassador accused Dr. Seaman of being a mouthpiece for Japan. He threatened retaliation against Dr. Seaman if he continued carrying tales. That’s the last I heard of it.”
Dimitri shifted uncomfortably. “It does not surprise me that the ambassador is hostile to Japan. There is no love lost between the two nations.”
“Apparently Count Cassini feels the same,” Admiral McNally said. “He warned Dr. Seaman against—”
“Count Cassini?” Dimitri interrupted, his voice full of appalled wonder. “Arthur Cassini is the Russian ambassador?”
“Indeed,” Admiral McNally said. “Do you know him? He seems a rather imperious sort.”
Dimitri shook his head. “I don’t know him personally, but I know who he is. I thought he was the ambassador to China, but now he has turned up in the United States?” His expression darkened. “This can’t be good.”
“Why?” she asked.
Dimitri shot off the bench and began pacing. “Count Cassini is uncomfortably close to the czar and wickedly clever. He speaks half a dozen languages. People in Moscow consider him a wizard for how far and how fast he has risen at court. His family is Italian, but they have made their home in Russia for generations. Somehow he wrangled a title out of the czar, but he is not to be trusted.”
Natalia glanced at Admiral McNally. “What do you know about Count Cassini?”