“I don’t think so. He isn’t so much a doll collector as a doll merchant. He buys and sells—that’s all.”
“How is that different than what Mrs. Dickinson does?”
“I’m not sure, but he certainly wanted to make a distinction. When we talked, he admitted that bringing a policeman to the store wasn’t necessary. But he believes she cheated him before. He wanted to intimidate her, yes, but he made no threats. He claims he took his check and left. The policeman says the same.”
“Then the blame comes back to me.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. I’m sure there’s another explanation. We simply need to find it. Now that we know she’s left the city, two of our agents are searching the store and her apartment. Hopefully, they’ll find something that will either prove her innocence or her guilt.”
“Phillip is already on a train with her. Why doesn’t he just ask her?” Then they could put an end to all this cloak-and-dagger business.
“Perhaps she’s frightened enough now to tell the truth.”
“Perhaps. But what about those who are working with her? If she is guilty of treason, we need to know who else is involved. The timing is important. And so is having enough evidence to convict anyone and everyone who’d assist our enemies.”
Eloise nodded agreement then rose and wandered to the window. A restlessness had been building within her ever since she learned that Phillip was on that train. Would the trip end in Philadelphia? Or would Velvalee lead him west? Perhaps all the way to Portland or Seattle or San Francisco.
Wherever she went, Phillip would follow while Eloise stayed behind. She couldn’t bear the thought of not being there—wherever there might be—when the timing was right to arrest Velvalee and her accomplices. She’d been part of this case from the beginning, but now she’d been cast aside as if her contributions didn’t matter.
In the deep places of her heart, she knew that wasn’t true. Phillip hadn’t left her on purpose. He had a job to do, and he did it. He was still doing it. Yet, she couldn’t shake the painful notion that he’d abandoned her. Just like her father. Just like her brother.
Except…no.
They had left her alone to pick up the fractured pieces of her broken heart. Phillip, whether he knew it or not, had taken her heart with him. He would return, but the case might be solved before he did. And then what? Possibly a trial where each of them would be expected to testify. But there would be no reason for them to see each other outside the courtroom.
Even before that, her association with the FBI would be over. She’d return to the navy cryptology unit, and Phillip would join one of the military branches. Her heart would travel with him wherever he went. But there would be no last-minute romance.
If she couldn’t bear a separation of a hundred miles, how could she bear a separation of three or four thousand? A separation that might never end? She didn’t have the courage.
A knock at the door interrupted her self-absorbed thoughts. There were too many other things going on in the world for her to be wallowing in pity.
Richard answered the door and returned with a package wrapped in brown paper. “Our good men at the postal service have done it again. Mrs. Dickinson considered this package important enough to mail before making her escape. Shall we see what’s inside?”
“I’m guessing a doll.”
“I imagine you’re correct.”
Eloise joined him at the table. The package was addressed to Isaac Hirano in Seattle.
“We must unwrap it with the utmost care,” Richard cautioned. “That way we can wrap it up again after we take a peek inside.”
When they finally opened the box, they found a wooden doll nestled in tissue paper. Richard gave Eloise the task of undressing the doll and examining her clothing.
The lining of the jacket was constructed in such a way that the silk fabric overlapped at the back. Eloise slipped her fingers between the flaps and drew out a piece of paper. Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the words.
“It’s written in jargon code.” She felt herself beaming at the discovery.
Richard returned her smile. “Shall we attempt to decode it?”
“We shall.”
Eloise retrieved her steno pad and pencil then placed the letter between them.
“Read it aloud,” he prompted.
“It says:
‘I hope this finds you well as I am not. I return this doll to you with a wish that I may visit quite soon. Travel arrangements must be made, but I am impatient. Home is where the heart is so they say, and you know where my Heart belongs. Please take care of this little Doll. I feel her heart breaks. All she needs is a friend.’”
“What do you think it means?” Richard asked.
“She knows we’re after her or that someone is after her, and she’s afraid.”
Richard steepled his fingers beneath his chin. Eloise waited, giving him time to think, but her own thoughts were whirling like a dervish.
“Would you please copy the message word for word?” he asked.
“Sure. Are we sending it to Phillip?”
“Not yet.”
“I could take it to him. Then we could tail her together.”
“That simply won’t work, Eloise. She’s seen you. She knows you.”
“She saw Phillip too.”
“Yes.” Richard slowly nodded. “But she may not recognize him. At least we can hope she doesn’t. I’ll do my best to arrange help for him.”
“There has to be something I can do. Something besides copy messages.”
“I have an assignment in mind for you.” He fingered the brown wrapping paper. “Once we have a copy of the message, place the original in the doll jacket exactly as it was before. Then we’ll wrap the package so no one can tell it’s been opened. This may be a way for us to find Mrs. Dickinson’s accomplices.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Patience, Eloise. I can’t let you join Phillip. But how would you like to deliver this package to the Seattle post office?”
“You want me to travel to Seattle? By myself?”
“You won’t be alone, though it may seem like you are. We’ll figure out the fastest train routes so you’ll arrive before Velvalee. Yes, I think this will work. This will work just fine.”
Eloise wasn’t as confident, but she made no objections. She’d been handed an assignment as if she were an agent instead of a civilian colleague. The mission was simple and not even dangerous. As far as Velvalee knew, the post office was transporting her package across the country. No one knew that Eloise had it except for Richard.
Still, it was a mission and a chance for her to prove herself.
CHAPTER FORTY
Phillip couldn’t allow Velvalee to give him the slip at Philadelphia’s Thirtieth Street Station; neither did he feel comfortable standing behind her in the ticket line. He also did not want to draw undue attention by flashing his badge. He studied the departure board and made a gut-level guess. The train to Chicago was scheduled to leave in less than thirty minutes. Other west-bound trains had later departure times. On a hunch, he purchased a ticket to the Windy City. If he was wrong, he’d rely on the same maneuver he used in New York—board the same train as Velvalee and buy his ticket from the conductor.
In the waiting area, he perused the magazines and papers at the newsstand while keeping an eye on the Doll Woman. She perched on a bench, her suitcase at her feet, and clutched her handbag to her stomach. No doubt she was protecting the cash she’d retrieved from her safe deposit box. All the while, her eyes darted among the crowds as if she expected danger at any turn.
“Pardon me, sir.” An army captain gestured toward the section of the rack half-hidden behind Phillip. “Mind if I take a look there?”
Phillip shifted his position. “Not at all.”
The captain clasped his hands behind his back as he scanned the selections. “My uncle Richard says one should never ride the rails without somet
hing to read.”
Phillip’s ears perked up, but he feigned indifference. “What else does your uncle Richard have to say?”
“That the fox needs a friend.” The captain lowered his voice but never once made eye contact. “Especially when the hen is on the move.”
An amused grin stretched Phillip’s lips. He should have known Richard would send reinforcements. “The fox is on her trail.”
“Destination?”
“Chicago, I think.”
“I’ll purchase a ticket and pass that thought along.” The captain selected a magazine then turned away to pay for his purchase. Without any further acknowledgment, he disappeared into the crowd.
Phillip didn’t try to speculate on how his uncle had arranged the rendezvous. In his years with the FBI, Richard had made numerous invaluable contacts. It probably had taken only a phone call or two to find someone who could pass the message to Phillip that he wasn’t alone in his quest. Funny. He usually preferred working alone. The G-man who went where he was needed, worked with other agents as necessary, then moved on to the next assignment. He’d never minded that role before.
But now, truth be told, something—or perhaps someone—important seemed to be missing as he sat a few rows behind Velvalee during the trip from New York. Knowing that Richard had sent the captain to work alongside him filled that lack. From a practical and tactical standpoint, Richard’s motivation was his belief that four eyes were better than two. But Phillip’s gut told him that his uncle also meant to reassure him. Nick the Cabbie had done as he promised, and Phillip wasn’t working alone.
Unfortunately, Richard hadn’t been able to send Eloise. A few weeks ago, Phillip had been miffed that Richard wanted her to play such an important role in the operation. Figure out the jargon code? Sure. That was her area of expertise. But to travel with him to interview the supposed letter writers? Never in a million years. Of course, he only agreed to the mission as a favor to his uncle. But then for Richard to add a woman who wasn’t even a trained agent into the deal had seemed an undeserved punishment.
Now that they had traversed the continent and back again, however, Phillip missed having Eloise beside him. But Elena Piperton from Cape Cod had no reason to be on the same train as Velvalee Dickinson. Neither did her chauffeur, but Mrs. Dickinson had paid him no mind when he entered the shop. He was hired help and of no consequence, especially not with Danvers bellowing out his accusations in front of a policeman. Though Phillip still intended to keep as much distance between them as possible, he doubted she would recognize him without the chauffeur’s uniform. Thankfully, Richard hadn’t insisted Phillip return to New York and leave the trailing to others.
The minutes ticked by, and the loudspeaker announced the boarding call for Chicago and points west. Phillip lowered his head as Velvalee Dickinson’s sharp eyes scanned her fellow travelers. He sensed her movement as she stood, gripped her suitcase, and walked toward the platform. He waited a few seconds before following. On the way, he spotted the army captain talking to a lieutenant. Phillip guessed the subordinate would soon send a one-word telegram to Richard: Chicago.
On board the train, neither Phillip nor the captain acknowledged one another. The officer, his anonymity a benefit that Phillip didn’t have, managed to secure a backward-facing seat across the aisle from Velvalee while Phillip once again sat a few rows back. At least his weren’t the only eyes on the drab little hen whose admiration for the Japanese culture had turned her into a modern-day Mata Hari, though one lacking the femme fatale sultriness of the legendary spy.
Oh well. It took all kinds.
Phillip turned to the Saturday Evening Post he’d purchased and settled in for the long ride to Chicago. The drawing on the cover was of a freckled-faced boy, eyes wide and tongue sticking out of his mouth, wearing a ball cap and holding a giant watermelon that in real life would have weighed as much as he did. The image invoked memories of lazy Sunday afternoons, picnics on hot summer days, and swinging on the tire overhanging Deer Creek to fall into the sun-dappled water. It was an image Americans needed to hold on to as they faced a devastating enemy none expected to have experienced once—let alone twice—in their lifetimes. Especially not after their victorious stint in the War to End All Wars. The uneasy peace had lasted less than twenty-five years. Less time than he’d been alive.
He eyed the back of Velvalee Dickinson’s dreary hat, momentarily caught the captain’s eye, then turned back to the magazine.
In the deepest recesses of his heart, he wished Eloise were by his side.
Eloise set out the next morning, several hours behind Phillip and Velvalee, on the same route through Philadelphia and Chicago. At both stops, she sent prearranged telegrams to Richard and received one-word messages from him in return that revealed Phillip’s next destination. After Chicago, Velvalee chose to take the Union Pacific Railroad to Des Moines and Omaha. Richard sent Eloise along the northern, less populated route, through Minnesota, North Dakota, and Montana. With fewer stops to make, Eloise should arrive in Seattle before Phillip and Velvalee.
Before she embarked on her trip, Eloise and Richard met with the postmaster in charge of all of New York City’s post offices. Ever since Velvalee had been identified as a possible traitor, he ensured that all packages she placed in the mail were turned over to the Bureau. So far, the searches hadn’t uncovered any hidden messages, and the packages were sent on their way to the intended recipients.
Thanks to Phillip’s quick thinking, Velvalee’s latest package had been delivered straight to Richard instead of the FBI’s field office. He met with the postmaster, who stamped the proper postmark with yesterday’s date on the wrapping. If Velvalee saw the package before it was unwrapped, she wouldn’t suspect it hadn’t been shipped across the country by the postal service.
Eloise passed the time on the train by reading the local papers she picked up at each station, smiling at the comics, working the crossword puzzle, and sometimes fending off the flirtatious remarks of soldiers either traveling to or from home on leave or heading to the coast, where they’d eventually ship out for a life-changing—and in too many tragic instances, a life-ending—experience.
While traversing the seemingly non-ending plains, where the land and the sky met on a faraway horizon, she chatted with a newly minted private who’d signed up within an hour of receiving his high school diploma. His parents persuaded him to wait until after graduation, though it had been hard to see his friends going off without him earlier in the school year. He’d managed a short leave after basic training, and now he was on his way to Cut Bank Army Airfield.
Eloise oohed and aahed over the photo of his sweetheart, a cute blond with an engaging smile and sparkling eyes. When she returned the photo, she caught the gaze of a shabbily dressed man across the aisle. He immediately turned his head away.
A shiver of alarm raced up Eloise’s spine. She had noticed the man when he boarded but only because she was heeding her instructors’ warning about paying attention to her surroundings. Until now, he’d seemed harmless. Judging by his threadbare jacket and battered hat, he was just a down-on-his-luck passenger traveling alone. Not exactly the wardrobe she’d envision for someone who was in league with a traitor. Or for an FBI agent.
Richard had assured her that one or two agents were accompanying her on each leg of her journey. If they did their job right, he said, they’d blend in so well with the other passengers that she’d never notice them. She’d accepted that as a challenge. Could she pinpoint the agents without making it obvious she was trying to find them?
In all the hundreds of miles she’d traveled so far, she hadn’t been confident she’d identified a single one. But this wasn’t the first time she’d sensed someone watching her. It happened in Chicago after she exited the 20th Century Limited, then again at Minneapolis’s Great Northern Depot.
While the young man chatted about his plans for the future once Hitler’s soldiers had either surrendered or been killed—almost as though, wit
h the bravado of youth, he could single-handedly bring about either of those possibilities—Eloise took surreptitious glances at Mr. Shabby Man. In his turn, he seemed content to watch the passing landscape. Perhaps he was as harmless as he appeared, the shared gaze nothing more than what sometimes occurs among strangers in cramped surroundings. But his amiable demeanor didn’t alleviate the alert tension in her muscles. She planned to keep a quiet eye on him until their paths separated and to keep a lookout for him after that.
Her young companion said goodbye to her in Shelby, just east of the Montana-Idaho state line. Mr. Shabby Man didn’t acknowledge her presence when he got off at the next stop, the small Sandpoint, Idaho, station. Perhaps she’d been mistaken after all.
When she finally arrived in Seattle, she sent a one-word telegram to Richard: Arrived. His response: Next: Spokane. That’s where she’d been about eight hours ago. Since only one daily express traveled from Spokane to Seattle, Phillip would arrive at about this same time tomorrow.
Her pesky butterflies flittered with anticipation. But as Eloise left the station, she did her best to focus her thoughts on her mission instead of daydreaming about a reunion with Phillip. The reality—two colleagues greeting one another without so much as a handshake—would be nothing like the romantic scenes that popped unbidden into her head.
Juggling her suitcase and the package, she took a taxi to the central post office, where Richard had arranged an appointment with the postmaster. After reading the letters from Richard and the New York City postmaster requesting his assistance, he assured her the package would be delivered the following day. She’d successfully completed her mission.
With nothing else to do, she checked into a hotel not far from the FBI field office. All she could do now was wait.
Wait for the package to be delivered.
Wait for Phillip to arrive.
The Cryptographer's Dilemma Page 23