London Spies: Phyllis Bowden Book 1 Page 2

  He nodded and rose. “This minute, in fact. Pack what you need for now. I’ve got movers coming in an hour to get the rest of our things.” Dick grabbed his jacket, slipping arms into sleeves. “It’ll be a gauntlet to get out of here, but stiff upper lip, as the English say.”

  He walked toward the door.

  “One question, Major Simpson, before we go. I have to know why Amy Broadbent is sitting out there.”

  Dick shrugged, attempted to smooth his wrinkled slacks. “I don’t know. It wasn’t my idea.” He leaned in, speaking softly. “But the higher ups are suspicious of her because she was Ronald’s secretary. I wouldn’t befriend her, if I were you. She may not be with us long and you’ll be tainted by the same brush in their eyes.”

  She swallowed hard before walking through the door he opened for her. All eyes discreetly turned to them and she could feel the questions pounding through telepathy. She’d be asking questions too if the situation were reversed.

  Grabbing her purse and a few steno pads, Phyllis plucked her trench coat off the rack and followed Dickie down the long aisle separating the many desks in the pool. Eyes bored into her from all directions producing a dainty fear that crept down her spine like a daddy long legs. She had no answers for anyone, much less herself, but was at this moment, ‘one of them’. It was a hard realization coming on the heels of knowing she’d suddenly lost the trust of women she had worked with for months. Good months. Solid work. Solid camaraderie too, she thought, but…perhaps not.

  Everything comes at a price, does it not?

  FOUR

  Every step Phyllis took on the staircase brought her closer to the new office. She should have been excited, over the moon! It was a promotion, wasn’t it? But dread wrapped itself around her heart like plastic and she was almost suffocating. What happens now to Lawrence?

  Dickie reached the office of the Military Attaché before she did and walked in. She noted Lt. Col. Ronald Lawrence’s name stenciled on the frosted glass door before filing in behind Dickie. Two offices were adjoined with a side door separating her office from his. Pointing at her desk in this outer office, Dickie walked briskly through to the office just beyond, shutting the door firmly behind him. Now she was really alone. Separated from her co-workers in the steno pool and separated from her boss as well. Feeling low, Phyllis removed the cover from the typewriter and stared at it as if it were a living thing. It was a newer model than the one she’d been using and electric too. A Dictaphone sat to one side and a new intercom too. She set about learning her new equipment.

  A few tiresome hours later with Dickie ensconced in his new office, Phyllis was ready to crawl out of her skin. She knew he’d been making calls, since both lines were lit up on her phone, but he hadn’t asked her to do one blessed thing for him. She practically fell on Lorraine with gratitude when her door opened and the cute blonde bounced in.

  “What are you looking so happy about?” she asked her.

  “What are you so sour about?” Lorraine let her gaze roam the squeaky-clean office to fall on the typewriter. “And you’ve got a new typewriter! Well, la de da…someone’s coming up in the world.”

  “Unlikely it’s me,” scoffed Phyllis reaching in a drawer for her purse. “Let’s get out of here for an hour and have lunch.”

  “You read my mind.”

  “Just a minute. Let me tell Dickie I’m going.”

  Lorraine’s eyes widened. “He’s still here?”

  “Well, yeah, he…”

  “Because lots of the higher ups are meeting in the conference room. Huh…wonder why he isn’t there.”

  Phyllis wondered the same thing as she pushed the intercom button to his office.

  “Major Simpson? I’m going to lunch.”

  “Sure, sure,” came the quick reply. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Will you be here?”

  “Most likely.”

  Down another long hallway, they stuck heads in the Officers’ Mess to see how many people were in there.

  “Looks like the coast is clear.”

  “Oh, ha, Lorraine. I’m not afraid to eat here. Are you?”

  She headed toward the buffet dishes on tables lined against a wall. “People have been snotty to me, probably guilt by association.” Picking up a plate, she passed a heated dish of roasted potatoes and headed straight for the ham slices.

  Phyllis picked up a plate and followed behind her. “Please tell me what I did to warrant being ostracized by everyone in the steno pool.”

  Lorraine forked a thin slice of ham unto her waiting plate. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re fleeting up and they’re not. You’re calling attention to yourself and they don’t like any secretary to be singled out.” She loaded the rest of her plate with lettuce and tomatoes. “Look! That shipment of tomatoes finally got here and cheese from New Zealand. Heavenly!”

  Phyllis glanced at the buffet dishes and sighed. “Can’t tell you how much I miss fresh milk. I think I’d give up my monthly salary for a liter.”

  “I hear you.”

  Phyllis slowly put a small serving of salad on her plate. After dripping a tablespoon of dressing on the top, she made for a corner table. Lorraine took a slice of berry pie as well and followed her.

  “That’s all you’re going to eat?”

  “Not hungry, Lorraine.”

  “Sweetie, you need to eat more than that to keep up that peaches and cream complexion of yours.”

  Phyllis rolled her eyes as she stabbed a leaf of lettuce. “And quit trying to deflect the topic.”

  “What was the topic?”

  “Why I’m being ostracized. I don’t buy the ‘fleeting up’ answer.”

  Lorraine chewed a bite before swallowing and poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. “Want some?” Phyllis nodded. “Okay. Here’s the scoop.”

  Phyllis scooted her chair closer to Lorraine and leaned in. “Tell me.”

  “Everyone is scared shitless.”

  “About me?”

  “You’re just collecting collateral crap being flung your way. Whenever there’s a new Military Attaché, people fear being shuffled around, being reassigned.”

  “But?”

  “But this situation is different. Ronnie was arrested for espionage and everyone’s ducking for cover. The career diplomats are scared out of their wits and so too are their secretaries. There’s no safe haven for anyone right now, so expect some nasty looks for a while.”

  “I didn’t cause this to happen. I like Ronnie.”

  She patted Phyllis’ arm. “I know, sweetie, but your boss made it to the bigs and the atmosphere is suspicious of everything and everyone right now. At least until we all make it through questioning.” Lorraine reached for the saltshaker.

  “When does that start?”

  “Rumor is that it already has. Minnie and Molly were called upstairs right before I came up to get you.”

  Phyllis froze with her fork heading towards her mouth. When she stopped to stare at her friend, a tomato fell back on her plate. “Minnie and Molly? What in the world could they know?”

  Lorraine’s shoulders moved up and down. “They work for the undersecretaries and probably know more than we do about statistics, numbers and plans.”

  “I don’t know much, Lorraine.”

  She poked Phyllis with her fork.

  “Hey!”

  “Hon, we all know more than we say. We all take dictation and type reports and travel orders. We’re all military intelligence and thus, our work is classified.”

  Other women began to file into the room. Several took one look at the occupants of the corner table and sat as far away as possible.

  “Sure you want to be seen with me?” asked Phyllis. “We could be sharing national secrets.”

  Lorraine snorted. “They know better than to mess with me, but I’d watch myself if I were you. Don’t head for any supply closets any time soon.”

  “I’m fine, Lorraine. That hasn’t happened for six
months or so.”

  “Still…”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “If you say so.”

  After finishing their lunch, both women dumped their dishes into a bin towards the back. They tucked trays in a bin alongside and made their way towards the exit.

  “I’m going to say hi to Martha. Her desk was next to mine in the steno pool.”

  Lorraine arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t if I were you, but I’m not you…so go ahead.”

  Phyllis patted her curly bob, licked her lips and started towards the table of women. If looks could kill…what did she do?

  “Hello Martha.” She nodded at the other women. “How’s your lunch today?”

  A stout woman with an irritated expression looked up. “Fine.” She turned her face away.

  “Did you get those new typewriter ribbons you ordered? I know that must have…” Her words trailed off with the icy reception facing her. “Well, I’ll leave you to your lunch.”

  No one at the table said another word and Martha looked angry that she’d bothered to speak to her.

  Phyllis hurried out the door with Lorraine on her heels. “They’re acting as if I was caught doing espionage with Mr. Lawrence. How can they think that?”

  “Shh,” Lorraine shushed her. “Don’t even say something like that out loud. Don’t think it. You think you have it bad—guilt by some kind of association—how do you think Amy feels? No one has spoken to her all morning.”

  “Dickie mentioned she might be transferred to another pool.”

  “…Or how about another embassy? This one isn’t going to thaw out any time soon.”

  They walked quickly up the staircase towards Phyllis’ office. “And what ever happened to ‘we’re all in this together’?”

  “I guess all bets are off when one of us has been accused of being a spy.”

  At the office door, Phyllis hugged Lorraine. “Thanks for being my friend. It can’t be easy for you. See you at Angel’s later?”

  “Seven, you said.” She hugged her back.

  “Quit wrinkling my new dress.”

  “Polyester doesn’t wrinkle.”

  They laughed, lessening the tension. After Lorraine left, Phyllis opened the door with Major Richard Simpson now stenciled on the frosted glass, took a deep breath and peeked in cautiously. Dickie was still on the phone, so she worked on the new reports sitting in her inbox for the next few hours. With no one to talk to or gossip with by the water cooler, she finished her work more quickly than usual.

  Wondering what to do next since Dickie still hadn’t come out of his office, she went down the hall to get more carbon paper from the supply closet. When she got there, Phyllis realized she hadn’t gotten a key for this new closet and was surprised to find the door ajar. She opened it, tentatively sticking her head in for a look. Shelf after well-stocked shelf lured her in for an even closer examination. What riches! There were boxes of paper, spools of ribbons, tablets of lined paper and box after overflowing box of pens and pencils.

  Her happy eyes widened at the bounty, her fingers itched to touch the treasure before her. Everyone was saying the war was nearly over, but that didn’t mean she could get the supplies she needed in any sort of timely order. What the soldiers needed, of course, came first. She and every other secretary at the Embassy, on the first floor at least, were accustomed to shortages; it was just a part of life.

  Reaching a hand for a beautiful fountain pen and a jar of black ink, the door suddenly slammed shut. Phyllis froze with her hand outstretched. Only a fraction of light from under the door reflected on the closet floor; she tried to step toward it, but her legs wouldn’t move. Her breathing became short puffs, while perspiration beaded on her forehead. She could feel her heart beating faster just as nausea hit. A small stool caught her before she went down and Phyllis stuck her head between her knees. Passed out on the cold cement floor would not look dignified for the secretary of the Military Attaché. Cupping her hands around her mouth and deep breathing stopped the hyperventilating, but hot flashes heated her sweaty skin.

  Haltingly, she slunk to the door and tried the doorknob. Locked! From the outside? What the…

  She pounded on the door until her fist hurt. No one came. She pounded more until the door seemed to sway with the incessant force. Just when she was about to keel over, someone opened the door. Phyllis fell straight into Dickie’s arms.

  “What the hell were you doing in the supply closet?”

  “I was locked in, sir.”

  “How can that be?” He helped her to the office and sat her down.

  She blew out a ragged breath, gazed off into space. “I’m sure I don’t know, Major.”

  “I know we’re newbies up here, but damn it, Phyllis. I need you to pull your weight. I’m close to sinking in the swamp and I can’t save you too.”

  “I’m fine, sir,” she puffed. “Just let me catch my breath.”

  He poured her a glass of water. “Here, drink this. I can’t have my secretary falling apart on our first day.” Dickie grabbed her shoulders looking her in the eyes. “I need you, Miss Bowden. Can I count on you?”

  “Yes-s, sir, of course you can.”

  “Do you have a problem I don’t know about?”

  “I’m fine, sir.” She straightened in the chair, handed him back the glass. “You can count on me.”

  “Damn straight. Now I’ve got to meet with a few people. Get your pad and meet me in the conference room in ten minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  After Simpson left, Phyllis wearily leaned back in her chair. She pulled a small compact from her purse to check her makeup before joining him. The woman in the reflection had flushed cheeks, watery eyes and lips devoid of color. The tube in her purse refreshed her lipstick and she wiped her eyes of excess moisture. While her cheeks calmed, Phyllis combed her curly hair. Spying a light hair amongst the dark, she plucked it out, smoothing her frightful brows. She dabbed powder on her smooth cheeks and turned this way and that to check the result of her work. Too bad the salon down the street had been bombed because she could use a manicure too.

  When she felt she was presentable, Phyllis ran nervous fingers down the front of her dress, grabbed her pad and pencil and made her way to the conference room. Whatever she felt about the scene in the supply closet would have to wait. No terrible memories of that childhood trauma were going to overwhelm her now.

  She had a job to do.

  FIVE

  Amy Broadbent opened a lower drawer to take out her purse. She was going home. At last! It had been a long, miserable day and all she wanted to do was soak in a hot tub. Maybe that would relax the concrete she felt in her shoulders after a day of being snubbed, ignored and, in general, shit upon.

  And for what?

  She had been the secretary to the Military Attaché, Ronald Lawrence. Now the infamous Ronald Lawrence whose class, distinction and genuine duty to office and country seemed forever burnished in the eyes of everyone at the American Embassy. Her mind was occupied with unwelcome thoughts as she slid arms into her long coat and attachéd her hat with a colorful hatpin. She could at least look nice, even if she wasn’t feeling very well at all.

  Amy waited until all the other women in the steno pool had left the massive room. She glanced around at the ancient desks, typewriters poised at the ready. Pencils were sharpened for tomorrow’s dictation and the room had been swept clean. Everything was in order and all was calm. But with her heart beating a mile a minute, she knew her life would never again know order, would never again know true calm. She felt deep in her gut that nothing would be the same.

  Was there anything she could do about that?

  Her shoulders continued to slouch although she made a real effort to straighten them. Even her good posture was failing her. And then she saw Phyllis Bowden come down the stairs. She’d obviously taken dictation at one of the super-secret meetings upstairs. Phyllis’ shorthand skills were well known and she wasn’t surprised to see Ph
yllis stepping into her shoes so soon. Sometimes, that’s the way it went in military intelligence…no one really trusted anyone else and no one talked about anything of importance. At least not in the hallways, Officers’ Mess or steno pool. Seeing Phyllis gave her an idea.

  “Phyllis?” Amy stepped out of a small alcove to make her presence known.

  “Amy? You’re still here?”

  “Just leaving.”

  They stood together, saying little.

  “I can’t imagine what you must be thinking of me,” she began.

  Phyllis shook her head. “Don’t even go there, Amy. My day has been one for the books too, although I’d rather forget than have it written down somewhere.”

  Amy chuckled. “Just because you took over for me shouldn’t automatically make you suspicious.”

  “And just because you worked for Ronnie doesn’t make you suspicious either.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “Well, ah…I need to gather my things.”

  “Phyllis? Would you please have dinner with me tonight?”

  “Um…”

  “Because I feel if I can’t talk to someone, I’m just going to explode.”

  Phyllis smiled, reached over to touch Amy’s arm. “No exploding in the hallways. You know how maintenance hates that kind of cleanup.”

  “Do you…would you, please?”

  Amy didn’t know what was on her face, but a muscle in Phyllis’ jaw contracted and for an instant she looked upset. She stepped away. “I don’t mean to insult you or anything…”

  Phyllis grabbed her arm. “No, it’s fine. Let me get my coat and hat and I’ll meet you by the front door.”

  “Sure you want to be seen with me?”

  She laughed. “I can chance it. Only Lorraine would eat with me today, so being ostracized is going around. Wait for me.”

  SIX

  A strange yet familiar sight awaited them as they walked down the street away from the American Embassy. The route included large brick buildings, four and five stories high, with tarps waving in windows long ago blown out by German bombs. Statues of prominent British statesmen and royalty stood as silent witnesses to the devastation around them. While one side of the street still had standing buildings, shops and apartments, the other side had been completely obliterated during the Blitz. People had worked hard to sort out the mess the best they could, but wood fragments, bits of brick and broken concrete heaped in enormous mounds continued to decorate the site. A constant reminder they were still at war and death was only a heartbeat away.