Washington Spies: A Historical Espionage Thriller Page 2

  Martin was summoning her to the conference room? Who had requested her attendance? Her position was that of a lowly secretary. Who in the world wanted her in a meeting?

  Startled, Phyllis picked up her dictation pad and strode toward the conference room. This was a surprising turn of events. Her job didn’t include going into top-secret meetings, which was what the conference room was used for. With no windows and a thick door that was usually locked, the whole office knew secrets were discussed there. Although uncertain, she held her head high, ignored the pointed looks from ladies in the pool, and knocked once on the heavy door.

  When it opened, a familiar man with a big smile thrust out his hand. She blinked in surprise and extended her hand in response.

  “Get in here, Phyllis Bowden. You’re late.”

  Major Richard Simpson took her hand and pulled her into the room. She couldn’t have been more surprised to see her former boss from the Embassy in London.

  “Dickie!” She coughed. “Sorry, I mean, Major Simpson. What are you doing in Washington?”

  “Ronnie says hello from Norway. He said to tell you he misses you.”

  It didn’t escape her notice that her current boss, George Martin, sat at the table with three other men, two of them military officers. His face reflected resignation, along with a tinge of dismay. She knew immediately that he hadn’t invited her.

  “Come and sit down, Phyllis. I’ve missed you.” His smile was contagious and she smiled back.

  “You know that I’m not Phyllis Bowden anymore, don’t you? Joe and I got married on board ship coming home.”

  He waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Anyway, whatever you’re called now, we’ve decided to bring you in on today’s meeting.”

  “Okay, thank you.” I think, she thought but didn’t say aloud. From the serious expressions in the room, she hadn’t been invited to a tea party. Something big was happening, and she couldn’t fathom why she’d been invited.

  After she sat down, Dickie began introductions. Why was he taking charge instead of George Martin? This wasn’t Major Simpson’s territory and the upper management in the CIA was very big on guarding their turf.

  “You know George Martin.”

  “Of course.” She nodded at Martin. “Sir.”

  He looked at her with little expression, his usual dull look.

  Dickie waved toward the officers on her side of the table. “Captain Tom Metcalf and Major Pete Henderson, military intelligence.” He nodded to the man next to George Martin. “Samuel Donohue, CIA.”

  He looked around the room. “Everyone introduced?” When he received nods, he took a chair at the head of the table. Another stunning move.

  “You’ve been invited today, Phyllis, for a preliminary meeting.”

  “Did you want me to take notes, sir?”

  He chuckled. “No.” Dickie leaned forward on his arms. “What we want from you is your field expertise.”

  The surprise of seeing Major Simpson took back seat to the shock she received now. She hadn’t been used as an agent since Oslo and then only under Col. Ronald Lawrence’s direction, her boss then at the Embassy.

  Phyllis tried hard to maintain her composure, although she felt the warmth spreading across her face. It wouldn’t do to reveal her excitement. An assignment!

  “I’m sure that news surprises you on a few fronts, Phyllis, so let me explain.” Dickie glanced at Martin. “I’ve been transferred from London to a new position with Military Intelligence. We’re coordinating with the Central Intelligence Agency for a special assignment.”

  “Yes, sir. How do I fit in?”

  “Phyllis, what I’m about to tell you is top secret. You understand you’re not to repeat anything said here to anyone outside of this room?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Dickie smoothed his tie before looking at each person around the table. Certain he had everyone’s full attention, he began to speak in a calm, low voice. Phyllis moved forward in her chair to hear him properly.

  “No note taking from anyone.” With that command, Simpson took a deep breath. “There’s a British physicist who is systematically giving secrets about the atomic bomb to the Russians. It hasn’t been going on for very long, but we got a good tip and we’re trying to trap him before he gives away too much information. So far, he has eluded us.

  “We’ve received word that a company engineer who has worked with this scientist has documentation of his spying. The man has requested protection in exchange for his testimony.”

  He glanced around the room. “The decision has been made to nab the engineer before the Russian secret police are on to him. The plan in place will take a few months to set up, but we’re confident he will be safe until we make our move. The main problem we see is that his wife is several months pregnant, maybe six. We don’t want her in labor for this mission, so our window of opportunity is closing. Two months, gentlemen and lady.” He smiled at Phyllis. “Two months to get this show on the road. It’s essential this spy be caught.”

  Heads nodded in agreement. “Yes.” “Certainly.” “Absolutely.” Other words showed support for the idea, making Phyllis aware that she was probably the last to know this information.

  “Phyllis.” Simpson looked at her. “We want you to capture the target.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We want you to pick up the engineer and his wife.”

  Phyllis took a deep breath. “Sir.” She glanced around the table. “I’ve done jobs for Col. Lawrence, but nothing like this. Are you sure you want me and not a more experienced operative?”

  George Martin looked like he was ready to agree with her.

  “No, Phyllis. No one will ever suspect you. We’re going to send you to work at the Oak Ridge Laboratory for the next two months while we flesh out the plan.”

  “You want me to go…to Tennessee, sir?”

  “That’s what we want.”

  “And this plan has been thoroughly discussed by everyone involved?”

  “It has.”

  She sat back in her chair stunned. To her way of thinking, it was inconceivable that she should be chosen for such an important assignment. Martin hadn’t given her much more than filing and a little dictation to do for the past year. He looked nearly as stunned as she. Perhaps he wasn’t in on early discussions and the decisions made.

  “Now, Phyllis, I know you’ll have a million questions.” Dickie nodded toward his audience. “These men have all the answers. I want you to report to another section of the agency for the upcoming week where you’ll receive further instruction. Your job at the laboratory will be similar to your work here, so there will be no job stress.” He smirked. “Well, not with that job anyway.”

  He waited until her shocked expression relaxed. “I know this may seem surprising, but it’s been decided that you are the best agent for the assignment. That really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, after what you accomplished in London.”

  “Sir…”

  “You should also know this mission is difficult to achieve under the best of circumstances. The engineer works for us, but we’re fairly certain that the Russians are watching him for reasons we’ll get into later. However, I think our plan, once it’s in place, will be successful.”

  He sat back and smiled broadly. “Any questions?”

  It was a good thing Phyllis was sitting down. Her legs, quivering like jelly, wouldn’t be able to hold her up. “Lots, sir. When do we start?”

  “Tomorrow morning you report to Level 5. You need to get a new badge before tomorrow. Your clearance has been upgraded as well. That’s it for now, Miss Bowden, er, I mean, Mrs. Schneider.” He stood and held out his hand.

  The other men stood as well.

  Phyllis rose and shook Dickie’s hand. Glancing at George Martin, she nodded.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  With that, Phyllis left the room trying not to float on fluffy clouds. An assignment as an agent! She’d trained and trained for field positions
and had felt thwarted that she received so few. It was a chance to prove herself on her home turf. She was thrilled and excited. Also slightly terrified.

  And she couldn’t tell Joe.

  Phyllis stayed five minutes over quitting time, just to appease George Martin. Since he wasn’t around when she left, her time had been wasted, but who knew? Maybe he had a spy camera pointed at the typing pool, hoping to catch some unwary rule-bender.

  She and Lorraine, her best friend, rode the same streetcar after work, so they caught up on the latest gossip. Suzy from Operations upstairs just got engaged. Lorraine wasn’t pleased about this happy news since she and Henry had been engaged for a while now.

  “So why don’t you and Henry get married?” asked Phyllis. “What’s the hold-up?”

  Lorraine rolled her eyes. “You know very well that we can’t decide on the venue. I’ve suggested either the Willard or Jefferson Hotels because they’re so beautiful and utterly perfect for our wedding.”

  “Wow! Pricey.”

  “That’s what Henry says too. He wants to go down to the courthouse for the ceremony and have a party in one of the parks.”

  “Really?” Phyllis tried to stop her grin. “That’s the extreme in the opposite direction.”

  “Tell me about it.” Lorraine frowned, then grabbed onto the seat when the streetcar suddenly lurched. “We go round and round and end up in a big fight.”

  “Well, maybe if you—”

  “Tell me,” Lorraine interrupted, “why I wanted to marry this guy in the first place. Remember all the dates I had in London?”

  “Yes, sweetie. You’ve been a southern belle of the ball.”

  “I liked being the belle of the ball.”

  “Sure, you want to get married then?” Phyllis looked over at Lorraine to check her expression.

  Lorraine’s pretty face brightened from a scowl to a beaming smile. “I guess I do. Henry is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “And considering the territory you took in, that’s saying a mouthful!”

  Their quick laughter filled the small streetcar. Looks from other passengers were curious.

  “All right, then. Get back to the drawing board and come up with something different,” Phyllis suggested.

  “Maybe you’re right. You do get it right from time to time.”

  “Sure. I married Joe, didn’t I?”

  Lorraine poked her in the arm. “Some girls get all the luck. He had his eye on you the first time you met. In fact, he had his eye on you before you met. Remember? He asked me to introduce the two of you at a party.”

  “In exchange for taking a drunk Henry home,” Phyllis reminded her with a smirk.

  “Okay. Memory Lane is closed.” Lorraine glanced out the window. “Here’s my stop. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night.”

  Phyllis watched her friend depart the streetcar. She gave her head a half-hearted shake. Wartime romances had a bad reputation, but Lorraine and Henry really were a good match. She knew Lorraine had a wild streak, and Henry seemed able to roll with the punches to keep her in line, when she needed to be. They’d be able to work out any problems that came along. She felt sure about it.

  Phyllis closed her eyes and thought about the meeting today in the conference room. Her new assignment had floated down from CIA heaven. She was thrilled and terrified, happy and spooked. She needed to talk to someone about it, but she knew she couldn’t tell Joe. Even though he was in intelligence himself and had been for years, she knew he’d understand, when the assignment was over, why she held back from him.

  But it wasn’t settling smoothly in her gut.

  Maybe tomorrow, after reporting for work at the new location, she would be able to get the answers she needed and talk everything over with someone who knew the score.

  Staring out the window, she realized her stop was coming up. Her small house was in a relatively new neighborhood that was perfect for them. Phyllis smiled. Home. The perfect place to be when life needed soothing. Joe would be home soon. Thank goodness for that. The man knew her inside out and could extinguish most fires with a sexy smile or knowing look.

  She stepped off the streetcar.

  The small wooden chip wasn’t in the doorframe.

  She and Joe, both trained agents, used the chip to warn them in advance of uninvited guests. And like the trained agent she was, Phyllis glanced around before pulling the derringer from her purse. Pushing open the front door, her senses alert for the slightest movement, she briefly appreciated the rays of sun bursting through the window above the door. It gave her the light she needed before venturing a foot farther.

  Once inside, she closed the door quietly, noting the hallway with a quick look: the floral wallpaper, the hall tree waiting by the door for her coat. The tiled floor showed slight footprints in the dust that she hadn’t swept away. Fragments of the footprints led to the living room where she ventured slowly, gun in hand.

  Everything looked the same as she had left it this morning. The worn striped carpet over the hardwood floor hadn’t been disturbed, nor had the old upright piano and its swivel stool. The velour couch that Joe’s mother had given them had a slight indentation on the right side, catching Phyllis’ attention and worry.

  A small movement from the kitchen had Phyllis’ gun aimed in that direction instantly.

  A figure in dark clothing held up his hands.

  “Don’t shoot me, Phyllis.”

  She recognized his voice. “Col. Lawrence!”

  “In the flesh.”

  For a moment she was speechless. She watched as her former boss took a step closer, but only a step.

  “I was surprised by Major Simpson this morning and now you! I thought you were in Oslo!”

  “That is what we wanted you and everyone else to think.”

  “But sir…”

  “May I put my hands down?”

  “Of course.” Phyllis lowered her gun, tucked it safely into her purse. “But why would you want me to think that you’re in Oslo when you’re not?”

  “Come in the kitchen, Phyllis. I bet this is where you and Joe have your important discussions.”

  She smiled. “It is and I’m not going to ask how you knew that.”

  Col. Ronald Lawrence smiled back at her. “Just as well.”

  “You’re not in uniform.”

  “No. The job was too important to announce my presence to the community.”

  “What job, sir?”

  He waved a hand toward the kitchen table.

  “See? I found Joe’s whiskey and already poured us each a glass.”

  She walked to the table, pulled out a chair across from Col. Lawrence.

  “So, we’re celebrating?”

  “You’ve been handed an important assignment, Phyllis.”

  “You know about that?”

  He indicated she should sit.

  “It’s of the utmost importance that this spy be caught. He’s done enough damage to the project already. We fear the Soviets have more information than they are entitled to.”

  “Why would a British physicist willingly give over atomic secrets to the Russians? What would be his motive?” She picked up the glass Ronnie had poured for her.

  “Many scientists on both sides of the ocean have had Communist leanings for years. Some decry foul against those men who have decided to use their scientific knowledge for weaponry. These scientists prefer everyone would stick to science for its own sake, not for war.”

  “Even when Hitler was in the picture, also trying to build a bomb?”

  “Even then and now we have Stalin in the picture. The scientist being sought is a good friend of well-known pacifists, although he was never one himself. He feels his friends have good intentions about not wanting to use their research for war purposes, but they are delusional. The man thinks that peace will be secured only if the major countries involved on the world scene have the atomic bomb. And that’s the US and the Soviet Union. Only then can peace
be guaranteed.”

  “Seems naïve.”

  “Perhaps so, but that is his thinking according to his friends and family.” He cocked his head at her. “He may also be under the influence of a special friend, someone with a large reputation within the community.”

  Phyllis smiled. “I’ve heard some about that. Have many resources gone into this project?”

  “The scientist has been followed for the past year and much is known about his activities.”

  “Why hasn’t he been caught before now?”

  Ronnie raised his glass and grinned. Phyllis noted his clear, forthright eyes had deep recesses underneath. Something was keeping him up nights.

  She raised her glass to his.

  “Are we working together again, sir?”

  “No, Phyllis. I’m just here to wish you good luck. Major Simpson sneaked me in under the proverbial radar, so I could give you a proper send-off on your first real assignment here in the States.”

  “I appreciate it, Colonel.”

  He clinked his glass to hers. “Here’s to a job well-done.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Ronnie drained his glass in one gulp as Phyllis sipped hers.

  “Go on, Phyllis Bowden. Swallow that sucker.”

  She laughed and drained it. The fiery liquid burned its way down her throat causing her to cough and Lawrence to smile. It was good to see him again.

  “To answer that last question, let me say this. He hasn’t been caught because we’ve lacked the evidence needed to prove his treasonous acts.”

  “And the engineer has the evidence?”

  “He does.”

  She toyed with the glass, tilting it to one side. “If I may be allowed to ask, what then is your involvement in this assignment?”

  “Major Simpson asked for my advice before assigning this to you, Phyllis.” With the look on her face, he hastily continued. “Not that he didn’t feel you could handle the work, but your Washington boss wasn’t easily convinced.”

  “I know George Martin doesn’t like me very much, Colonel.”

  “You came with excellent recommendations from both myself and Major Simpson.”

  “Apparently, he wasn’t impressed.”