Washington Spies: A Historical Espionage Thriller Page 4

  “Sir?” asked Phyllis. “Oak Ridge?”

  “Yes,” replied Metcalf. “Oak Ridge National Laboratory is in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, in the eastern part of the state, and is a division of the Department of Energy. After the Manhattan Project researchers developed the atomic bomb, one of the main goals for the lab in Oak Ridge was to channel the power of the atom for peaceful purposes.”

  His expression remained neutral, but his lips quirked.

  “After the uranium bomb, the plutonium bomb came along, which you all know. Researchers at Oak Ridge are leaders in developing nuclear technology. There are those at the facility who see peaceful purposes for this technology, but so far it’s only been used for weaponry.” He glanced around the room. “Dr. Gresham, the spy we’re seeking, definitely saw the war potential and has been feeding secrets to the Soviets for longer than we know.”

  “How has this information come to us, Col. Metcalf?” A man in a gray-striped suit looked out of place with a table filled with Army officers. Since introductions had been sketchy, she guessed he was CIA.

  “Dr. Leahy, this information has come from an engineer who just happens to be the spy’s brother.”

  “His brother?” exclaimed Leahy.

  “Yes.”

  “Most extraordinary.”

  “That’s what we thought. Anyway, the engineer is the man we are hoping to extract and debrief.”

  Phyllis didn’t look around, but she felt brief gazes from the others in the room. That was her job. It’s why she was here. Her lips felt uncommonly dry.

  Col. Metcalf continued his briefing about Dr. Gresham. Questions were asked from others at the table, but Phyllis just listened. She knew she’d need as much information as possible to help catch such a wily operative. Gazing at Gresham’s photo, she snapped to attention with a comment made by Leahy.

  “Mole, Tom? Dr. Gresham is a mole?”

  “We believe so,” replied Metcalf. He reached for other papers to distribute. “Here’s an in-depth biography of Gresham and his immediate family. He was born into English society to well-to-do parents. His father demanded much of his son when his scientific abilities were recognized. At university, Gresham majored in electrical engineering and eventually physics for an advanced degree. His career was skyrocketing when he was tapped to assist with Manhattan Project research at Oak Ridge. His family sent a brother over with him and that’s who contacted the head of Oak Ridge security about a possible leak.”

  “His brother? Really?” asked Phyllis.

  “Yes, he’s an engineer also assigned at Oak Ridge. He apparently has been used by the family to help Dr. Gresham.”

  “Help him with what?”

  Metcalf cocked his head at Phyllis.

  “The man is a magnet for trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Drinking, carousing, womanizing.”

  Phyllis almost choked. “He doesn’t sound like your typical atomic scientist.”

  “No indeed. But that’s the dossier on him.”

  “When did he begin spying for the Russians?”

  “Not long after he got a fellow scientist’s daughter pregnant.”

  Phyllis blinked. No one around the table moved.

  “And then what happened?” she asked.

  “She has been a troublemaker herself and got tangled up with the Russians. It’s a long story and her father has been implicated as well. She coerced Gresham into doing a little spying to spring him from blackmail. Gresham caved and then he couldn’t get out.”

  “The brother told all of this?”

  “Yes.”

  Phyllis sat back stunned. It flew in the face of all she knew about loyalty to country and family.

  “That’s good for now, Tom. Thank you.”

  Metcalf took a seat.

  “Anyone have any further questions?”

  More questions and answers were batted around the table for a good long while. When the questions dried up, Simpson called the meeting to a halt.

  “Enough for now. How about we break for lunch and be back here at two o’clock?”

  “Two, sir?” Phyllis glanced at her watch.

  “That should be time enough to find out what Lorraine is doing.” Dickie smirked at her faint blush.

  “Thank you, sir.” Phyllis gathered her materials in a briefcase. She immediately checked it into a locked storage room before taking the elevator down to the first floor. She headed for the ladies’ restroom by the cafeteria where she and Lorraine had arranged to meet to freshen up before going to lunch.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “Thanks a bunch. Thought you were going to cheer me up.”

  “Why do you need cheering up, Phyllis?” Lorraine looked at her friend’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Is George Martin yammering at you again?”

  Phyllis swallowed hard. Something in her throat just wouldn’t go down. She blotted her face with a wet paper towel. The meetings about her assignment weren’t scaring her. In fact, it was the opposite. Phyllis felt energized with each new piece of information. But the sudden headache and fluttering in her stomach told a different story.

  “Or is Joe having more episodes?” Lorraine clamped a hand on Phyllis’ arm. “You’re cold.” She reached up to lay a hand on Phyllis’ forehead. “But your head feels warm. You must be catching a cold.”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe I just need to—” Before she could finish, Phyllis turned abruptly to push into a bathroom stall. With the door closed behind her, sounds of retching filled the bathroom.

  “Jeez, Phyllis. You are sick!” Lorraine pushed the door open to see her friend huddled over a toilet. “I’ll get you a towel.”

  It was several minutes before Phyllis could respond in any way to Lorraine’s inquiries. Finally, she was able to drag herself back to a sink to use the damp towel Lorraine pressed into her hand.

  “Thanks.”

  “You look terrible, hon.” Lorraine peered at her. “You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

  “No.” Phyllis splashed water on her face. She and Joe had been very careful with their lovemaking, but it wasn’t information she was willing to share with her friend.

  “You sure? When was your last period?”

  “Lorraine!”

  “Oh, poo. We’ve been friends forever. You can tell me.”

  Phyllis sighed. She could trust Lorraine with most things.

  “Well, it was…” She trailed off when she couldn’t remember when she’d had her last period. “It was three weeks ago, or was it four?”

  “You really don’t remember? Honey.” Lorraine turned Phyllis to look at her. “Then there’s a chance.”

  “No, absolutely not. Joe and I…” She didn’t finish the sentence on purpose.

  “You know we’ve discussed ways to keep from getting pregnant.”

  “Um, yes.”

  Lorraine continued babbling. “But you know they don’t always work. Mabel in Accounting got pregnant with the rhythm method.”

  Phyllis smiled. “You know we aren’t Catholic, Lorraine.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I’ve always used a diaphragm, but Cindy in Operations said she found a hole in hers.”

  Her comment caused Phyllis’ face to pale even more. Lorraine caught her reaction.

  “Honey. Is that what you’re using?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Although she did think about it. It was all she could think about. She and Joe had used condoms recently since her doctor suggested she replace the diaphragm she’d been using. Maybe there had been a hole in hers like Cindy’s in Accounting.

  Lorraine studied Phyllis’ reflection as her friend put on lipstick and combed her hair.

  “You really should see a doctor, Phyl. It could be serious. One doesn’t just upchuck for no reason.”

  The longer Phyllis ran a comb through her hair, the sharper Lorraine’s expression became. “You are pregnant, Phyllis. I’ve got a feeling about this.”

  “You’re always getting weird feelings.”

  “I’m on the money with this one. I’d bet my marriage to Henry.”

  Phyllis looked her in the eye. “Are you that sure?”

  “Yes.”

  It took less than a minute for Phyllis’ eyes to fill with tears. “I can’t be pregnant,” she whined.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just…it’s not a…good time.”

  A slow smile spread across Lorraine’s face. “Is there ever a good time? Sometimes these things just happen.”

  Phyllis fished a tissue from her purse. “Pregnancy doesn’t just happen.”

  “Well, that’s true enough.” She looked at her friend sharply. “Are you worried about Joe?”

  “I’m usually worried about Joe.”

  “I thought the battle fatigue was lessening.”

  “It comes and goes.”

  “He will be thrilled to pieces, Phyl. Just go to a doctor. Make sure and then tell Joe the good news.”

  Phyllis swallowed. “You really think I could be pregnant?”

  “I think there’s a strong possibility.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  Lorraine grinned. “Be happy when you say that! You’re having a baby!”

  Phyllis’ stomach lurched again at the news and had her dashing back into a bathroom stall. Lorraine smiled happily.

  “And I get to be the crazy aunt!”

  Phyllis flushed the toilet and thought she saw her career being flushed too.

  With pregnancy on her mind, the last thing Phyllis needed was a call from her sister. Before heading back into a meeting, she picked up the phone with one hand on her stomach.

  “Phyllis?”

  “Hi Connie.”

  “I haven’t heard from you i
n ages. Why do I always have to be the one who keeps in touch?”

  Phyllis sighed, then glanced at her watch. “I have approximately seven minutes before I have to go to a meeting. What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you about Dad.”

  “We spoke last week.”

  “…He’s worse, sis. When did you see him last?”

  “Joe and I went by two weeks ago, but I’ve called him several times since then.”

  “Did he answer the phone?”

  “The phone rang and rang the last time before he picked up.”

  “He fell yesterday and is back in the hospital.”

  Phyllis covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh no! Is he all right?”

  “No. Look. We need to talk. When do you have some time?”

  Crap. When did she have some time? Between prepping for her new assignment, Joe’s therapy sessions and now a new doctor appointment of her own, Phyllis couldn’t think of any minutes in the next day or two that weren’t already booked.

  “Tomorrow? What have you got going on tomorrow?”

  “Connie, I can’t think of my schedule right this minute. I’m rattled about Dad. Could I call you later?”

  “Absolutely. Tonight, when you get home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll talk to you then.”

  Phyllis hung up with more fluttering in her stomach. She was stuck between going to her meeting or dashing to the nearest restroom. She took a few deep breaths, calmed her stomach and walked to the elevator.

  Life could wait. She had a job to do.

  A few days later, the streetcar lurched suddenly, throwing Phyllis onto the dirty floor. Lorraine helped her up, having kept her seat by grabbing the man next to her, to his obvious disapproval. She slapped on a brave smile as she pulled Phyllis back to her seat.

  “Thanks, mister.”

  “You nearly tore my jacket, miss.” His sneer only succeeded in making Lorraine laugh.

  “Nearly only counts in horseshoes, pal.”

  Phyllis smoothed her overcoat and reached up to feel for her new earrings. Joe had given them to her for their anniversary and she hoped she hadn’t lost them. They were still in place.

  “Lorraine.” Her sharp tone steered Lorraine’s attention away from the snarling man next to her.

  “What?”

  “Can’t you ever…” But her sentence was left unfinished. Glancing past Lorraine, Phyllis pointed. “My book fell out.”

  “What are you looking at? That book?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Looks boring. Did you get it recently?”

  “…Um. Last week, I think. I forgot I had it.”

  Lorraine pushed back the pale hair from her face when she bent over to pick up the book. “Strange title. What’s it about?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You picked it out, didn’t you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Phyllis, you’re not making any sense.” Lorraine’s eyes dropped to the floor. “What’s that?” A piece of yellow paper had slipped out of the book. Lorraine picked it up delicately with two fingers.

  Phyllis looked over her shoulder. “That’s my question.”

  “Look.” They stared at the paper. “It’s got your name on it.”

  “What?”

  By this time, even the displeased man next to Lorraine was watching their every move. Phyllis plucked the note from Lorraine to stuff it in her coat pocket.

  “I’ll read it later.”

  “Don’t you want to know what it says?”

  The man next to Lorraine nodded.

  “Because I sure do.”

  Phyllis glanced down at the paper in her hand. A plain, single-folded sheet of paper, not much bigger than a matchbook, bore her name. Phyllis Bowden. That was odd. She had married Joe last year and had changed her name to Schneider. The print was in tiny block print, like an architect’s handwriting. Lorraine nudged her impatiently.

  “Go on. Open it.”

  With hesitation, Phyllis opened the note.

  Don’t do it.

  She read the message again before turning the paper over to see if anything was written on the other side. Nothing.

  “Don’t do it?” read Lorraine. “Don’t do what?”

  The man next to Lorraine was reading over her shoulder like Lorraine was reading over Phyllis’. Both sets of wide eyes fixed on Phyllis for her answer.

  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  Lorraine shot a “Back off” look at the nosy man, who settled in his seat, pulling up his newspaper in front of his face.

  She lowered her voice and whispered to Phyllis. “Something about work?”

  Phyllis breathed shakily. It could very well be about work, but she couldn’t tell that to Lorraine.

  “Hardly. George won’t give me anything much to do. I’ve been filing again this week.”

  “Huh. Probably somebody in your office having some fun.”

  “That’s not very likely.” Then she remembered where she got the book—from the old bookseller.

  Lorraine waved a hand. “It’s somebody playing a joke, that’s all.”

  “Seems like an odd joke.”

  Lorraine rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t know, but listen. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than some silly note.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I was thinking of changing my hairstyle for the wedding. What do you think? I’m tired of the same old victory rolls and I wanted to have Marcy give me a pageboy. I was at the beauty parlor last week and I saw a style that was positively dreamy.”

  Lorraine’s voice faded to a low background hum. Phyllis’ mind wandered as she watched the tall federal buildings go by outside the window across from her seat. Classic architecture made of granite and steel with Roman columns holding a V-shaped roof. Newer buildings were more modern with curved designs, but white or beige still remained the popular color. She noted one building looked tiringly like the other, but eventually, neighborhoods with trees and children playing would appear.

  And she’d be home.

  Her mind zoomed back to the present.

  Huh.

  Don’t do it. That’s what the note said. What the devil could that mean? Don’t do what?

  A task at work?

  Don’t read this book?

  Don’t make pot roast for dinner anymore?

  It could possibly mean a million things, but the longer she sat in the bumpy streetcar, listening to Lorraine go on and on about her hair, the more she decided the message was directed at her latest assignment. Her name was on it, her maiden name at that, meaning the warning was from someone who had known her for at least a year.

  A shiver worked its way down her spine as she glanced around the crowded streetcar.

  “Phyllis? Are you listening to me?”

  “Ah, sure. Continue with what you were saying.”

  “But it’s needs to be a soft pageboy. Why, last week in the cafeteria, I saw…”

  Phyllis’ mind wandered again. Where had the book come from? Oh, yes. She’d gotten it in that old bookstore down the street from the drugstore. The old bookseller had insisted that she take it. He had even given it to her for free. Was the note from him?

  That was a possibility.

  And if it was a clandestine warning of some kind…

  How would Mr. Leto know that she worked for the agency? They had never discussed her work and, to her knowledge, he had never followed her to the building where she worked. His injured leg barely allowed him to walk around his tiny bookstore.

  Or was that an act?

  Anxiety seized her and she thought he could be another spy.

  Perhaps he was a contact trying to warn her about the upcoming assignment. Even if the warning were friendly, how did anyone outside of the agency know what she was doing? No one beyond a few men on the fifth floor knew what she was doing.

  And there was a matter of timing. The last time she was able to break free and visit the bookstore was a week ago. That was before she’d been given the assignment. It couldn’t be old Mr. Leto.

  Was someone from the inside trying to throw her off track? Trying to make her more insecure than she already was?

  With various plots swimming in her head, she barely glanced over when Lorraine left, still chattering about her hair. Phyllis briefly envied Lorraine. All she had to think about was the wedding. Phyllis had too much on her mind and it was giving her a headache.