Oslo Spies: Phyllis Bowden Book 2 Page 5

  “I’ll make a few calls, if the damn phone operating system starts working again,” he blushed. “Sorry, Phyllis.”

  “That’s okay, sir. I know what a mess it is having calls go through a German military exchange.”

  “Which is a tangled mess currently.”

  “I know, sir. I’m working on it.”

  He watched intently, something on his mind. “Be careful you don’t get too personally involved, Phyllis. It’s easy to do and we’re more limited right now than I’d like. Do what you can, but keep your feelings in check.”

  “All right.”

  “Anyway…” He brightened. “I’ll let you know what day Joe is coming and I’ll have someone pick him up and bring him to the embassy.”

  “Wonderful, sir.”

  Lawrence smoothed his tie, picked up his pen. “Now then I have two letters to dictate to you. How are you coming with the new filing system and the Washington communications network?”

  They worked together on several projects for the better part of an hour. When Phyllis rose to continue in her office, he stopped her.

  “Oh, one more thing, Miss Bowden.”

  She turned back to the tall officer who had risen from his desk. He’d worked hard all day, but still resembled the unfazed, unwrinkled military man that he was. Ronnie reached for a slip of paper from his desk.

  “Sir?”

  “I understand you’re still billeted at Army Headquarters.”

  “I am.”

  “Take this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the address of an apartment that has become available.”

  Her eyes widened skeptically. “An apartment? In Oslo?”

  “Yes. One of my couriers recently found it and I’ve checked it out for you. A couple of German officers abandoned it when they fled the country. It’s a mess inside and you need to meet with the lady whose name is on the paper. She’s your new landlady.”

  She couldn’t believe her good luck. First Joe and now a place to live. “An apartment! How wonderful! Thank you, sir. Any news on my luggage?”

  A frown consumed his face. “You still haven’t gotten your luggage?”

  “No. It’s taken longer than it should have.”

  “I’ll say. Let me compose a letter to the Transportation Officer back at the UK base and maybe we can track your bags down.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Ignoring Jay’s request at the end of the day for a bracer at a local café, Phyllis took a trolley to the address on her scrap of paper. An apartment. And it wasn’t just any apartment!

  SEVEN

  The address was in downtown Oslo. For Ronnie to have found an apartment for her in this area of town was nothing short of a miracle! Walking along the crowded sidewalk, Phyllis fought the urge to hurry as she passed stores and cafes in her quest to find the building where her new apartment was waiting for her.

  She stopped in front of a recently opened restaurant with a new red and white striped canopy. It was as bright and cheery as the people eating within. Phyllis glanced at the paper in her hand once more and checked the number of the building. A match! She noted there were four stories above the restaurant with a top floor that must have a tremendous view. Phyllis straightened her hat before smoothing the front of her dress. She was glad she’d worn her favorite flowered jersey today because she would be meeting her new landlady. If the woman were anything like her former landlady, Mrs. Stewart in London, she’d need to look her best. Wearing low heels had been a smart choice too since it was a bit of a hike from the trolley stop to this part of town.

  The building had been a beauty in its day. Ornate cornices and statuary graced the sides with large curved windows, many with strips of tape holding them together. Although paint peeled everywhere like the structure was shedding its skin, eloquence still shown through the shabby appearance. Small round dents punctuated the stonework. Bullet holes? The large wooden door was carved with abstract designs and the stained glass above had been shattered. But the glass knob beckoned with Old World elegance. Phyllis took a deep breath and turned the knob easily in her gloved hand.

  The moment she stepped inside, Phyllis felt she had been transported back in time. The lobby entrance was a large room with an arched doorway to the right and a stone fireplace to her left. Straight ahead was a unique staircase of marble stretching to the floors above. The curved railing looked to be decorated with carved animals running through a forest. Like the exterior, the interior seemed like an art deco beauty. She stepped lightly onto the threadbare carpet, torn in places with more tape trying in vain to hold it together. Before her eyes had adjusted to the dimmer light, an older woman in a long white dress and scarf tied at the waist strode up to her. Clear eyes in a deeply lined face took in Phyllis with a subtle sweep of her head.

  “May I help du?”

  “Yes…I’m Phyllis Bowden. Lt. Col. Ronald Lawrence…”

  “Ja, ja. Jeg vet hvem du er.” She shook her head, smiled slightly. “Excuse me, you’re American.” The woman cleared her throat. “I…know who…you are,” she finished proudly.

  “I was sent here by…”

  “Ja.” Her hands waved about. “Mr. Lawrence…call me. Come, come!” Hands continued to wave wildly toward the staircase. “I have leilighet waiting for du.” She laughed. “I mean…apartment. Come, please!”

  Phyllis hesitantly placed a foot on the worn staircase. Although marble, the steps showed their age and in the impressions made by heavy foot traffic in the decades the building had been standing. She hurried to catch up with her speedy new landlady when suddenly the woman stopped and turned around. Phyllis nearly bumped into her.

  “I forget,” she said placing one hand on her chest. “Mrs. Lind.”

  “Lind?” asked Phyllis.

  “Ja. Lind.” She stuck out her other hand. “Miss Bowden.”

  “Phyllis.”

  Mrs. Lind shook her head. “Miss Bowden.”

  To which Phyllis smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

  She beamed and continued her route. Four flights later and both Mrs. Lind and Phyllis were breathing harder with slower steps. The older woman finally stopped at the last landing placing hands at her hips to catch her breath.

  “Up,” she said between breaths.

  “Up, indeed,” huffed Phyllis. “No elevator?”

  The woman tilted her head with a pinched face. “El-e-vator?”

  “Oh, ah…” Phyllis mimed going up in the air with both hands.

  Mrs. Lind’s face broke into a smile. “Ah! Heis!” She shook her head. “No, she’s broke.” Then she pointed to a door in the middle of a long, carpeted hallway.

  “That’s the apartment?”

  “Ja. Come.”

  She tagged along after the woman whose steps quickened the closer she got to the door. Taking an old black skeleton key from her skirt pocket, Mrs. Lind opened the squeaky wooden door with a flourish and stepped back.

  “Look. Iz nice.”

  Is nice was right, thought Phyllis as she gazed around the apartment. She’d had no expectations but if she had, this place would have stomped them in the dust. It was a penthouse apartment with an incomparable view of the city. The furniture was all jumbled around and many possessions were tossed about in disarray. Obviously, Mrs. Lind had not thought to clean or even empty the apartment before renting it out, but it didn’t matter. Having a place of her own was worth the price of admission.

  The large living room opened to a kitchen and dining space. Phyllis wandered down the hallways to view a bathroom and two bedrooms, one with a prominent sitting area. Coming back to the living room, she strolled out on the patio to breathe in the fresh air blowing in from Oslo Fjord. Her new view encompassed rooftops and street scenes with water in the distance and snow-covered mountains hugging it all. If she lived to be one hundred, she didn’t think she would ever again live in such a fine place as this.

  Mrs. Lind smiled at Phyllis.

  “You li
ke?”

  “I like. When can I move in?”

  “Now.” She handed Phyllis the old key. “Now iz good. I’m down…if you…need me.”

  “Oh, what is the rent?”

  Mrs. Lind smoothed her long skirt. “Fourteen American dollars.”

  “A month?”

  “Iz good price.”

  “It really is.” Phyllis took the money from her purse and handed it over. Mrs. Lind tucked it in her skirt pocket. When she patted the pocket and smiled, Phyllis stretched out her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Lind. Thank you so much.”

  “Vaer sa god, kjaere en.” She shook her head. “You are welcome, my dear.”

  When she left, Phyllis took her time going through the apartment. She hadn’t brought much with her on the flight over from London and her footlockers and steamer trunk had not arrived. Good thing it was summer because all her fall and winter clothing was in that trunk. She made a few notes on what she would need for toiletries and food, locked the door and took the trolley back to the base. The newly opened PX had most of what she would need, so she gathered her bags and rode back to her new apartment.

  Her feet felt lighter as she walked down the street to her new building. Climbing back up four flights of stairs didn’t take as long as the first time because she was going to her new home. The skeleton key was cumbersome at first, but she got the hang of it and opened the door with as much flair as Mrs. Lind had.

  She was home!

  Details she had overlooked before in her excitement to have a place to live suddenly loomed large. Phyllis turned over a stuffed chair to find a German pistol underneath. She picked up the weapon carefully making sure the safety was on. The metal was cold but still had a lingering smell of gunpowder. Handling guns was part of her training although she rarely had to fire them in her course of work. She knew this gun was a luger and set it aside, wondering what she’d do with it.

  An array of clothing was strewn throughout the apartment. She found a metal helmet in one corner of the room sitting on the floor looking out onto the patio. Picking it up was like reaching out for a dead snake. Phyllis knew the helmet wouldn’t bite her, but it was scary just the same.

  An olive colored cloth belt with a good quality steel buckle lay curled on the sofa. In the master bedroom, a pair of German jackboots was in the closet and a few SS tee shirts lay on the floor, but what sent a shiver through her was the red wool Nazi armband with its menacing swastika peeking out from under the bed. She picked it up as carefully as she had the luger half expecting some German officer to burst into the room and pluck it from her clutches. Fighting the urge to spit, Phyllis took the German possessions back to the living room where she had a nice pile growing. They were now relics, war souvenirs with all the power sucked out of them. Their mere presence still filled her with dread as it did all the people of Norway and Europe. What should she do with it all?

  In the kitchen, the small, pale green refrigerator was relatively new with bread, cheese and wine waiting to be consumed. Assuming the fleeing Germans had left the food, she dumped it all into a waste bin and placed inside the few groceries she’d bought. She smiled at the tiny container of coffee she’d managed to buy at the Army PX and put it in a cupboard as a treasured treat. Indeed it was. Although coffee was still rare in Norway, Ronnie had mentioned that the Norwegian government was working on a trade agreement with Brazil to supply the coffee it so desperately needed. Norway would have to barter fish, but Brazil didn’t seem to mind.

  It didn’t take long to unpack her suitcase and the few bags she brought. After righting the furniture, giving the floor and counter a good wash, and changing the bed sheets, she was beginning to feel more at home. A picture of her family had a place of honor on the fireplace hearth along with a picture of her beloved Joe.

  Her thoughts turned to him as she poured a glass of wine and sat out on her patio watching the day become night. As dusk fell softly before her, Phyllis wondered where her relationship with Joe Schneider was going. In the aftermath of war and in a foreign country, love shouldn’t seem so important. Yet in the faces she had met in Oslo and London, it was all that really mattered. Being loved, being surrounded by loved ones, having those who mattered most with you was what they had fought for and what they had won.

  It was what many people had won…what many others had lost. Her thoughts darkened when an image of Astrid Hansen floated in her mind. Astrid had lost nearly everyone dear to her. What would it take to put sweet Astrid together again? To make her feel secure and loved?

  Phyllis shook her head. It would take a miracle and Astrid was just one out of so many that had already come to the American Embassy for help finding their lost loved ones. She wasn’t sure she had what it would take in her bag of tricks.

  But when her head finally hit the pillow that night, the only thing on her mind was Joe. She was going to enjoy every minute of the time they had together because everything was so fleeting in wartime. Permanence wasn’t a word used in times of upheaval and she wasn’t going to take her time with Joe for granted. Who knows how long they would actually have together. She would soon learn how very right she was.

  EIGHT

  Phyllis was untangling her crossed typewriter keys after a burst of typing that left a jumbled mess on the page. She painstakingly plucked each key free of the others and had just sat back relieved when her office door flew open.

  “May I help…” The rest of her words fell on the floor as she turned to see a beaming Joe Schneider walk up to her desk. He leaned his handsome face closer as one finger softly touched her jaw to close her open mouth.

  “Afternoon, sweetheart.”

  His deep voice resonated from the top of her head throughout her body causing an involuntary shiver of surprise. Phyllis leaped out of her chair and into the strong arms of the man she loved. They wrapped themselves in a tight embrace and hung on for dear life. Footsteps in the hallway softened, the fan in her office quieted, and voices in the embassy died out altogether when Phyllis and Joe kissed for the first time in a long time. Warm breaths intermingled with desperately clashing lips jockeying for the most expressive position. His full lips, so familiar, captured hers with feeling and love. When she pulled away to touch his face, he shook his head.

  “In a minute,” he whispered as he captured her lips again. It was some time before either was ready to leave the silky cocoon of intimacy.

  With a ragged breath, Joe rested his forehead against hers. “Nice to see you again, Miss Bowden.”

  “Can it be that you missed me?”

  “Lt. Col. Lawrence posted an MP outside the door to give us some time to ourselves without interruption.”

  She kissed his jaw. “He’s a nice man.”

  “He’s a grateful man. You saved his career.”

  “So he keeps telling me.”

  Joe pecked her mouth. “The last thing I want to do when I finally have you in my arms again is talk about your boss.”

  Phyllis laughed, stroked his sweet face, the face she knew so well. Joe was handsome in the mode of a classic movie star, Gregory Peck maybe. She nuzzled the light stubble on his jaw from the day’s travel before his dark eyes pinned her in place like a butterfly with clipped wings. She ran her hands lightly over his smooth cheeks up into his dark hair. His subtle aftershave infiltrated her senses and filled her with his overwhelming scent, the scent of Joe Schneider, not to be mistaken with any other man in Norway or on the planet, for that matter. Phyllis leaned closer to breathe him in, to soak up his essence, to be marked as the one and only man for her.

  “Lawrence said to take the rest of the day off. Could I take you to dinner?”

  Still surprised to have him so close, Phyllis continued to gaze at him with the loving adoration of a cheerleader and her football steady.

  “Phyllis? Honey?”

  “Mm?”

  “You with me?”

  She blinked and smiled. “I can’t believe you’re here. Ronnie didn’t mention when you were comin
g, just that you were.”

  “I do believe he wanted you to have a nice surprise.”

  “He sure was successful.”

  He kissed her again. “Come on. Grab your coat and hat. Let’s get out of here.”

  The clunky trolley took them to Arne’s little café across the street from Phyllis’ new apartment in downtown Oslo. Phyllis and Joe watched one another with playful eyes that didn’t notice the inquisitive stares of fellow riders. Oslo was bustling with people. Phyllis tucked her arm in Joe’s and proudly showed him part of her newly adopted city. Once inside the café, Joe noted the austerity of the place with a practiced eye. Phyllis shook her head and pointed to an item on the still unreadable menu when Arne took their order. They were both pleasantly surprised when the shy proprietor brought in meat cakes, cod and cabbage stew.

  “Tusen takk, Arne.”

  “Vaersagod, Miss Phyllis. Takk for sist!” He frowned, bit his lip. “Thank du,” he said tentatively.

  She smiled. “You’re welcome. Where’s Lars?”

  Arne brightened immediately. “Lars? Iz home.”

  “Tell him hello.”

  The man nodded with bright eyes. “Hel-lo.”

  “God save King Haakon.” Phyllis held up two fingers and Arne copied her.

  “Gud redde Kongen Haakon.”

  With that, Arne hurried back to the kitchen for the bread. After he’d left, Phyllis turned to Joe. “He’s teaching me Norwegian and I’m teaching him English.”

  “Are you going to learn how to say God save the King in every language?”

  “Nope. There aren’t many monarchies left in Europe.”

  “World War I fixed that.”

  “I’ll say.”

  The café had eventually filled with people by the time Phyllis and Joe said goodbye to the busy proprietor. Business in downtown Oslo was picking up faster than she thought it would and it was a good sign of economic growth. But the economy was the last thing on Phyllis’ mind when she brought Joe up to her fourth floor apartment in the old, ornate building. After stowing his duffle bag, Joe joined her on the patio for a glass of wine.