Oslo Spies: Phyllis Bowden Book 2 Page 7
He opened his eyes reluctantly to see a bulky body plopped heavily in the seat across from him. A fat man with dark features and darker intentions stared back. His contact. Having to deal with scum like this, his job was rapidly losing its appeal.
The man’s smile peeled back his transparent skin as if a cadaver were smirking at him. “Mr. Green?” His work name.
“Constantin?”
“Da.” Constantin’s squinty eyes peered into the gloomy café. “Coffee okay?”
“Not particularly, but drink at your own risk.”
The cadaver smirk flashed again. “You Brits have strange sense of…how you say…humor.”
“That’s how we say it. Now let’s get this over with. You can introduce me to the head of the Communist party here in Bucharest?”
“Da. Sure. Anytime you say.” He glanced back into the café.
“How about now? That’s what I’m here for.” Joe’s patience was evaporating in light of Constantin’s less-than-forthcoming information.
“What’s the rush? Let’s eat.” He waved to someone, but the skinny waiter had disappeared. In fact, Joe couldn’t observe anyone in the café at all, or on the street. Time to go.
Joe rose quickly, knocking over his chair. He didn’t bother to right it as he backed away from Constantin. When he saw the gun, Joe knew he’d been had. A flash of light was the only warning before the pain exploded in his chest. He caught another whiff of gunpowder when something bit into his shoulder and that’s all he remembered before the world went dark.
ELEVEN
Lt. Col. Lawrence sat at his desk, pen in hand. His attention wandered to the cloudless sky outside his second floor office at the American Embassy and he just couldn’t figure out where to start.
Phyllis had made her request several days ago, but for the life of him, he didn’t know who to call for information.
Ronnie stood suddenly, walked to the window and looked unseeing through the glass. For a man used to being in charge and having the answers, Phyllis’ request had caught him unaware. Heaven knows it wasn’t going to be the last time he would be asked to find a lost loved one, but Astrid Hansen’s name had been weighing heavily on his mind. It was time to do something.
He took off his jacket, draped it carefully over a chair and sat back down at his desk. After pushing aside pertinent embassy business and other important military paperwork, he reached for the clunky black telephone. He automatically barked at the German operator who came on the line and took a breath to calm his tone. Knowing the Germans would eventually leave Norway didn’t mean dealing with them on a day-to-day basis would be easy. The embassy had been working to take over the telephone exchange from the Germans, but it hadn’t been accomplished yet.
“Put in a call to Major James Stevens, War Department in Washington, D.C., please.” He added please because he should.
The German operator on the other end was efficient if nothing else because Lawrence was speaking to Stevens in a brief two minutes’ wait.
“Lt. Col. Lawrence!” A cheery voice came over the line. “How goes it in Norway? Eating any lutefisk?”
Ronnie laughed. “There’s none to be had right now, Jim, but hopefully soon. We’re working hard to help the country get up to speed.”
“Boy, that’ll take some time.”
“True enough.”
“So how can I help you? I assume you called for a reason unless you just want to hear how my son is doing at Georgetown.”
He chuckled again. Ron had known Jim Stevens from the early days of his Army career and they’d done favors for one another from time to time.
“No, but I hope he’s doing well.”
“He is, thanks.”
“I’ve got a problem, Jim, and I’m not sure where to start to solve it.”
“You?” Jim laughed heartily. “Mister I’m-always-in-charge-and-you-damn-well-better-know-it?”
“Ha. Funny. Listen, this is serious. I have people coming to the embassy here in Oslo looking for relatives that the Germans exported to God-knows-where. How do I start finding them?”
Jim whistled. “We’ve been slammed here too with requests from Americans to find their European relatives. It’s a mess for sure.”
“Where should I start?”
There was a pause on the line.
“Jim? You still there?”
“Okay. I’ll give you the official line that Washington wants us to use, but it’s only because President Truman hates General Donovan so much and is dissolving the agency.”
“I heard that. What’s going to happen to the OSS?”
“No one knows, so here’s who to call. First, there’s a captain in the War Department who is spearheading the effort and I would certainly give him a try.”
Lawrence reached for a pad and pencil. “What’s the name?”
“Captain Reuben Ayers. You got the War Department number? Just call the main number and ask for Ayers. Tell him I referred you.”
Ronnie scratched the name on his pad. “Thanks and the second name?”
Jim lowered his voice. “This didn’t come from me. We clear on that, Ron?”
“Crystal clear. An elf brought me the information in my sleep.”
“An Army elf…”
Ronnie laughed. “Absolutely.”
“Name of William Casey should get you more information. Lt. Casey, one of General Donovan’s top aides. Just mention what you need and see if he’ll help. I know Donovan has resources that Truman won’t ever have. An international superspy beats a Washington politician any day and twice on Sunday.”
Smiling, Ronnie put down his pencil. “Thanks, Jim. I owe you one.”
“You coming back to Washington?”
“One of these days, but I probably have three years here before I’m moved.”
“Glad to have you back after that messy business in London.”
“Thanks again. Bye, Jim.”
“See you, Ron.”
The call to Captain Ayers netted exactly zero information. Ayers wasn’t in and a disinterested secretary dutifully took Lawrence’s request and information in a monotone voice. The call to Lt. Casey was more interesting. The man was actually in his office and answered the phone himself. Refreshing in the world of bureaucracy where Ronnie lived. After introducing himself and explaining what he needed, Casey got right down to business.
“Lt. Col. Lawrence, I don’t think I need to tell you how hard it will be to get the kind of information you need.”
“Yes, sir. I’m fully aware.”
“Why, the Germans just surrendered in May and it’s only August of the same year! I know Norway is crawling with Germans you can’t get rid of and we’re still fighting that damn war in the Pacific!”
“Yes, sir, I know that too, but isn’t there any way to find out about these people?”
Casey was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he seemed to have made up his mind.
“The big problem is that Truman is dissolving the OSS. You know that, correct?”
“I’d heard the Office of Strategic Services would be no more and probably soon.”
“Soon enough, but here’s what I’ve got for you right now. When the concentration camps and labor camps were captured, the British, Americans and Soviets all took certain regions to liberate. Some camp officials kept records of Jews and other prisoners used for slave labor, but the military force going in seized those records. You can count on the British to help you if they can, but not the Soviets. They have minds of their own.” He paused. “Do you know where this Astrid Hansen’s parents went?”
“You mean which camp?”
“Right.”
“They were shipped on the SS Donau, straight to Auschwitz.”
Ronnie could almost hear Casey shaking his head. “The retreating Germans burned all the records from Auschwitz. The best we can do to learn if anyone survived is if the individual became a prisoner at another camp. The Germans did that sometimes: sent prisoners for labor from Auschwitz to a nearby camp to work in a factory or some kind of construction work.”
“Her father was a rabbi, age fifty-five. The mother was about the same age, a housewife.”
Casey clicked his tongue. “Doesn’t sound good for the parents. What about the brothers?”
“They were seized coming home from the university and taken somewhere. Astrid thinks maybe to a labor camp. She just doesn’t know which one.”
“That could be more promising. I’ll call some of our contacts in Poland, Czechoslovakia and Hungary, countries that had more slave labor camps, but there are other countries that were occupied during that time. There could be camps we don’t know about yet.”
Ronnie tapped the pencil on his desk. “I understand and will appreciate any information you can get for me.” He thought a moment. “Lt. Casey?”
“Yes?”
“While you’re at it, would it possible for me to get names of any Norwegian individuals you come across who died in the camps? I have people knocking on the doors of the American Embassy every day begging for information about their lost relatives. I know it’s a bad time for me to ask for this favor, but there’s never going to be a good time.”
“You’re right about that and I’ll do what I can. I’ll get my staff working on this immediately and try to get back to you next week.”
Lawrence smiled and stood. “Thank you very much, Lt. Casey. I’m in your debt.”
“Not at all, Colonel. I’m happy to help. My agency is folding and it’s a last hurrah for me.” He laughed. “Who says government agencies can’t help one another?”
“Indeed. I’ll be awaiting your call.”
After he hung up, Ronnie stretched his arms out wide. He’d yell “Yippee!” if it were an approved Army expression, but since it was not, he buzzed Phyllis to let her know.
“That’s wonderful news, sir! I know Astrid will be happy someone is working on it.”
“No, Phyllis. Don’t inform Miss Hansen just yet.”
“But sir. She has a right to know.”
“It could amount to nothing. The men I called might hit huge brick walls and come up short.”
“It would still help her to know someone is looking for her family.”
He shook his head. “I’ll let you tell her at the appropriate time. Now sit down, I have a new job for you.”
Lt. Col. Lawrence came around to lean against the side of the desk. Phyllis took out her pad and pencil, prepared to take notes.
“First, how’s it going with the telephone exchange? I hate hearing German voices on the other end of the line.”
“Working on it, sir. We’re training Norwegian women to take their places, but they aren’t ready to work yet.”
“Okay. The new filing system?”
“I’ve been working with various staffers on it, but some of them are so new, they don’t know the old system. I’m having to train them on what we have just so I can switch them to the new one.”
“I can hear your frustration, Miss Bowden. How about the communications network with Washington?”
“We’re more interested here in Norway than the people I’ve spoken with in Washington, D.C., sir. They’re more concerned about the war in the Pacific than what’s happening in Oslo.”
“Understand, but I hope you’ll keep on it.” He focused on her expression.
“Your day is pretty busy, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “Well, I’ve barely been here a month and it doesn’t seem like I’ve gotten much of anything accomplished, to be honest. The letters on my desk are piling up and the office isn’t running as smoothly as I’d like. We need more staff, sir.”
“All right. I’ll take the matter up with Personnel. In the meantime, I want you to attend the embassy party tomorrow night. It’s too bad Joe had to leave so soon; he could have gone with you.”
Phyllis smiled. “He left two days ago.”
“Did you have a good visit?”
“We really did.”
“…I understand congratulations are in order.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
Ronnie couldn’t hold back his grin. “Your landlady, Mrs. Lind, called to tell me the news and that she was very happy for you. She hopes you and Joe stay in Norway and have lots of babies.”
She sat back in her chair stunned. “Well, I…ah…she…”
“I know you’re trying to say that snoopy old woman should mind her own business, but that’s not life in Norway. Good news circulates fast here.”
“I…haven’t adjusted to being engaged, Colonel.”
He laughed. “Take all the time you need. You’ll need it to figure out the logistics of marrying a British citizen who’s an MI5 agent. Just getting him through immigration at the Washington Airport might be interesting.” Ronnie laughed again, his eyes twinkling.
“Yes, sir,” she groaned. “Hadn’t thought of that.”
“Anyway, Miss Bowden, back to work. I need you to attend that party for specific reasons. No guns needed, nothing more dangerous than wearing a nice cocktail dress and having a glass of champagne will be required.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want me just to show up and look nice?”
“Look nice, listen attentively, and ferret out what’s going on in the Norwegian government. There will be many officials, military personnel and diplomats in attendance, besides some bigwig business people trying to set up shop here. Let me know what people talk about. Lots of secrets spill out when the champagne is poured.”
Phyllis smiled, put down her pencil. “That doesn’t sound very hazardous. I can do that.”
“Good.” The tall officer rounded the desk to sit down. “Now go get busy. You have lots to do. I’ll call about getting someone in here to help you.”
“Thank you, sir. Much obliged.”
She had her hand on the doorknob when he called out. “And Miss Bowden?” Phyllis looked back.
“Sir?”
“Get that communications network up and running with Washington, and I’ll make sure you’re on the next military transport for a weekend in London to see your betrothed and good friend Lorraine.”
Her smile stretched from ear to ear as she saluted him.
“I’ll do it.”
But back in her office, Phyllis lamented ever taking any task to completion. She’d written a list of things Lt. Col. Lawrence had asked her to do and had not yet, in the weeks she’d been here, been able to finish one. Plus he had a new job or two every day to add to her ever-growing list. Staying later at work didn’t seem to make much difference and she hoped he could find someone to give her a hand. She needed another one before she fell behind so far she couldn’t get out.
So it was with a heavy heart and one that was missing Joe very much that she made her appearance at the embassy party the next night.
TWELVE
Normally, the large room on the first floor of the American Embassy was used as a cafeteria, but not this evening.
Tonight small round tables with white cloths and floral arrangements were pushed to the periphery of the room leaving a huge center space for the group of people within to socialize. A long table with chafing dishes and plates of finger foods waited to one side while several waiters in short white jackets circled with drink trays.
Army officers in their dress uniforms of deep blue with polished gold buttons, shoulder boards and decorations mingled with men in black tie and slick dinner jackets. Women in long, shiny gowns of taffeta and crepe, strapless or backless, slithered silkily in black, pink or blue. Phyllis glanced down at her princess ball gown in bright pink with its drop sleeves, tight bodice and full skirt and knew she’d landed on another planet. Generally, she wore print or floral dresses of rayon, the poor man’s silk, or cotton to work. Her friend, Lorraine, in London had told her she had to take the ball gown with her to Oslo because she might have need of one. It was ridiculous really. She’d only brought two suitcases and the silly dress had taken up way too much space.
Still Phyllis was happy she’d let Lorraine talk her into packing the frothy dress. Here she was wearing it within a month of landing in Norway. She’d never needed one in the London embassy, but with the war over, everyone wanted to wear fancy dress clothes and step out on the town.
But she felt like a spy in her pretty gown moving from group to group dropping in to catch a conversation before moving on to the next. She listened to several enthusiastic members of the Norwegian Labor Party discussing Norway’s budding economy. Her eyes glazed over with meticulous details of social programs and new trade deals. Stifling a yawn, she moved to a British diplomat discussing the war with Japan with a colleague from the American Embassy. She lasted long enough to insert an opinion before her feet got itchy.
A group of Army officials nodding their heads at a tall Norwegian man in a black tie caught her eye. The impeccably dressed officers in their crisp Army uniforms listened with rapt attention to the man with a commanding presence. He smiled warmly when Phyllis joined their circle.
“And who are you, lovely lady?” If any other man had said that to Phyllis, she would have stalked off in the opposite direction, but from this man it seemed sincere.
She extended her hand. “Phyllis Bowden, American Embassy.”
“John Edelland at your service.” He softly pressed his lips to her hand. The officer closest to Phyllis arched an eyebrow at the cavalier gesture. When Edelland took a step towards her, all the officers muttered fast farewells and melted into the throng of people, since his intention to speak with Phyllis alone was obvious. She watched them disappear in dismay.
“Um…Mr. Edelland…”
“Call me John, please.” He steered her toward a circling waiter in a silky white jacket. John plucked two glasses off the silver tray. “Champagne, Phyllis?”