Page 89 of Clive Cussler The Iron Storm

Bell smiled now as the newly crowned Helen Marchetti put her hands on her hips and said, “The heck you say. Issac and my Joe stopping the city from being reduced to rubble isn’t what I would call a waste of time.”

“Well said,” Bell agreed.

“How do you feel about your mission to the front?” General Mills asked.

Bell paused, mulling his answer, before he said, “Though it may seem it, I don’t have a death wish and so obviously I didn’t enjoy nearly being blown up, shot down, or burned alive. On the other hand, I have a far better understanding of what our men are going to face. It will be far different than how the jingoistic press presents it as all glory and honor, as if those things actually have meaning on a modern battlefield.

“To show my esteem to them, and the sacrifices they are about to make, the answer is yes, it was worth it for no other reason than my personal solidarity with the men. It allows me to salute Helen, Lillian, Marion, and Hanna, and the other women who will all be making their own sacrifices in the months ahead.”

“And our prospects for winning the war, Mr. Bell?”

“I firmly believe the twentieth century is going to be our century,General, and the next thing we’re going to do is crush the Kaiser’s Second Reich so badly there will never be a Third.”

“Here, here,” Eddie Toban said. He raised a glass. “A toast—”

Bell cut him off, “No more talk of war or politics. A toast to the groom, the luckiest man to ever walk down the aisle, and the bride for being the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, Marion and myself excluded, of course. To the very best thing that resulted from this debacle, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Marchetti.”

As the champagne flutes tinkled, the band took up a dance tune. Bell hooked Marion around the waist with his clubbed hand and escorted her onto the dance floor.

“A swell wedding,” she said. “Helen and Joe look very happy.”

Bell gazed into his wife’s eyes, instantly forgetting the fatigue of the last few weeks and the uneasy prospect of war on the horizon. “I’m happy, too,” he said, giving her a desirous look and pulling her close.

“Isaac Bell, you are the most dangerous man in the world with two hands,” she said, melting into his arms. “What on earth are you going to do with one?”

He whispered into her ear. “Try me.”