The 9

by Madalyn Morgan

  Smirking, he pushed her with his right hand. She didn’t move. He pushed her again and, taking a couple of steps, Ena’s foot caught the toe of the woman’s shoe. She began to apologise, but the woman glanced up at her, smiled, and waved her hand as if to say it didn’t matter.

  Ena heard Walter King sigh loudly. He squeezed her shoulder again, this time even harder. ‘Open the door.’ Ena hesitated and King reached round her. While he was bending forwards, and, Ena hoped, off balance, she spun round and, garnering all her strength, kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.

  His face turned scarlet. His eyes, blazing with anger, bulged in their sockets. Cursing and holding his crotch, Walter King took a step back, but didn’t fall down. Ben, the MI5 man, and the woman began to get up, but King recovered quickly and in an instant had the knife out of his pocket and at Ena’s throat.

  ‘Open it!’ he shouted to the intelligence woman, who jumped up and did as she was told. ‘Now sit down,’ he ordered, and she returned to her seat. Pushing Ena out into the corridor, King closed the door.

  With one arm around her neck, and the knife at her throat, he forced Ena along the corridor to the exit. ‘I can’t breathe,’ she choked. ‘Please, I think I’m going to faint…’

  Ena’s legs turned to jelly and as she slid to the floor, the world turned black. King put the knife in his pocket. ‘Get up, you stupid bitch!’ he shouted, slapping Ena’s face to bring her round. He opened the window, hauled Ena to her feet, and propped her against the door.

  Ena caught her breath and coughed. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then she saw the Welcome to Rugby sign. The train had hardly stopped when King opened the door. ‘We are going to leave the train and walk along the platform to the exit smiling as if we are sweethearts, understood?’ Ena nodded. ‘I shall put the knife in my pocket but if you so much as look at anyone it will be at your throat in a second. Got it?’ Ena felt disorientated and her head ached. ‘I said, got it?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve got it,’ Ena said, shaking.

  ‘I don’t want to kill you.’ Ena hoped that was true. ‘I take little pleasure in it, but if you do not do as I say, I will kill you in an instant.’

  Ena nodded. ‘I will do as you say.’

  He slipped the knife into his pocket. ‘When we are out of the station, and I am sure we have not been followed, I will let you go.’ King nudged Ena down the train’s steps and, gripping her arm, manoeuvred her along the platform. They walked quickly, overtaking passengers who had just left the train, until they were surrounded by people. Ena felt sick. In a few minutes they would be through the tunnel and out of the station, and then what? Would he let her go as he said? The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

  Without warning, King pulled her to one side to allow a family – mum, dad, and two children, to go past. Then, with one hand clamped on Ena’s arm and the other in the pocket where the knife was, he guided her towards the exit.

  As if they were members of the family in front of them, Walter King laughed and chatted about their holiday. Ena, grim faced, looked over her shoulder. Two men appeared from the far side of the train. As they scrambled onto the southbound platform she recognised one as the MI5 officer, the other was Ben.

  ‘You’ve got the tickets.’ Startled, Ena brought her attention back to Walter. ‘Tickets!’ he said, ‘You should have two tickets.’ King looked around, his eyes darting all over the place, not settling on anyone in particular. He obviously hasn’t seen Ben or the MI5 man, Ena thought, and sighed with relief.

  ‘They’re in my handbag,’ she said, as pleasantly as she was able. ‘I can’t open it and take out the tickets with one hand. If you let go of me, for a second...’ He looked into her eyes, his own hard and cold. ‘There’s no one around,’ Ena said, ‘Even if there were, they wouldn’t risk trouble in a crowd like this.’

  ‘Tickets please!’ the ticket collector said to the father of the family in front of them. He handed over his family’s tickets and after the collector had torn the corner from each one, he waved the man and his family on. By the time King had let go of Ena’s arm, to allow her to open her handbag, the family was through the barrier and nearing the exit. ‘Tickets please!’

  ‘Hurry!’

  Ena raised her eyes. ‘I can’t find them.’

  ‘You stupid--’ As the few remaining passengers passed through the barrier, King snatched Ena’s bag out of her hand and froze. Ena saw his Adam’s-apple rise and fall as he backed away from her. ‘You won’t pull the trigger,’ he goaded, his eyes fixed on the small revolver in Ena’s hand. She tilted her head to one side and gave him a wry smile as if to say, “Try me”. ‘So,’ he said, staring into her eyes and holding her gaze, ‘I am going to walk out of here.’ He continued to back away.

  Looking past him, Ena saw a number of policemen, military men and civilians enter the station. Some stayed at the exit. Ben, the MI5 man, and several army officers were on the platform.

  With a smirk on his face, sure that Ena wouldn’t pull the trigger, Walter King’s right arm shot up. ‘Heil Hitler!’ he shouted, turned, and charged through the cordon of officials.

  Aiming blows at whoever came near, King downed a military policeman and a couple of security officers before Ben stopped him with a punch to the nose that sent him stumbling backwards, arms circling like a windmill, until he hit the ground.

  King scrambled to his feet. With a bloody nose, he staggered forward like a drunk, and Ben knocked him down again. ‘Enough!’ he shouted, pushing himself up to a standing position. Suddenly, King doubled over in pain. Holding his left side with one hand, he raised his right hand in a gesture of surrender.

  Something wasn’t right, Ena thought. And as Walter King reached into his pocket, she shouted, ‘Knife!’ A second later Ben wrestled him to the ground and the MI5 man took the knife.

  The female intelligence officer appeared at Ena’s side, took the gun out of her hand, and bustled her along the platform. The last Ena saw of Walter King, who she thought she had killed several years before, and who would have killed her if she hadn’t produced Commander Dalton’s gun, was the back of his head as he lay face down on the platform of Rugby station.

  Moving quickly, the two women crossed to the waiting room. There was a Closed sign on the door, which opened as they approached and closed immediately after they had entered.

  ‘Commander Dalton?’

  ‘Congratulations, Ena.’ Dalton laid his hand on Ena’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She winced from the pressure. He didn’t appear to notice. ‘Thanks to you, we’ve got them.’ Them? Ena wondered if Freda had been on the train after all.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, they’re bringing the other one out,’ an intelligence officer said.

  Commander Dalton let go of Ena’s shoulder and turned back to the window, where they watched police and military intelligence make their way to a carriage further along the train. An army officer alighted first, followed by a policeman handcuffed to the prisoner. A wave of panic went through Ena and she struggled for breath.

  ‘Ena?’ Commander Dalton called, walking away from the window. Ena didn’t move. He called her again. ‘Would you come away from the window? I need to speak to you.’

  ‘One minute--’

  ‘Now!’ The commander ordered.

  Ena left the window, not to join Commander Dalton, but to make a bolt for the door. ‘Stop her!’ Dalton shouted. As Ena reached the door, the female intelligence officer threw herself at it, blocking the door and knocking Ena out of the way.

  ‘I’m sorry that was necessary,’ the commander said, stooping down to help Ena up.

  Ena pushed him away and put her hands up as a warning. For what seemed like minutes, but could only have been seconds, they stared at each other. ‘All right!’ Ena said, at last. ‘But can I speak to him?’

  ‘Not possible,’ Commander Dalton said, and took her by the arm. With the commander on one side and the intelligence officer on the other, Ena watched Henr
y Green, the man she was in love with, being dragged from the train in handcuffs. When he passed by the waiting room window, a few feet away from her, Ena lifted her arm and placed the palm of her hand on the glass, but Henry didn’t look, didn’t see it.

  The door to the waiting room opened and a young army officer entered. ‘Your car is here, sir. Yours too, Miss Dudley.’

  Her head pounding, in a state of shock, Ena took a faltering step towards the door, stumbled, and reached for the intelligence officer’s arm to stop herself from falling.

  Commander Dalton took her other arm. Ena jerked it away. ‘How could you, of all people, think Henry has anything to do with Freda and Walter King’s spy ring?’ she spat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The day before Ena was due to go down to Bletchley Park to be debriefed by Commander Dalton, she went to RAF Grafton Underwood, near Kettering, to see Ben. The USAAF Eighth Air Force had been stationed at Grafton since 1942 – and it was where Ben and his boss were flying back to America from.

  She arrived at the aerodrome late. Ben Johnson, she was told by a young airman who was part of Ben’s party, was in a meeting. He suggested Ena wait for him in the NAFFI. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here, miss.’

  Ena was hungry, but couldn’t face food so ordered a cup of coffee. She hadn’t eaten properly since the day she had been part of MI5’s mission to snare Freda and Walter King – and Henry. It had been almost a month and she still hadn’t come to terms with Henry being a spy; she probably never would. Ena wondered who, if anyone, would tell his parents. He wasn’t in the services, so they wouldn’t get the dreaded telegram from the war office. Given the choice, killed in action was preferable to your son has been tried for treason and hanged as a spy. Tears blurred Ena’s vision. She shook her head, defying them to fall.

  Ena had gone over and over in her mind what she was going to say to Ben, but whatever she said she knew she’d be breaking his heart. Things had moved so fast. She liked him, had begun to love him, but he wanted too much from her, too soon. Getting married and moving to America was a huge step – one that Ena wasn’t ready to take.

  Jogging into the NAFFI, Ben pulled Ena to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She winced. ‘What is it?’

  ‘My shoulder. It’s still painful from the pressure Walter King applied when he forced me out of the train.’

  Ben looked at her with concern. ‘It’s getting better, though, right?’

  ‘Yes, every day it hurts less and the bruise has faded. It’s mustard-yellow now, it was black at first.’

  Ben dropped his arms to Ena’s waist, pulled her close to him, and kissed her full on the lips. ‘I have waited for this day for so long, honey.’

  Ena put her hands on Ben’s upper arms and gently eased herself away from him. He let go of her, and she took a step back. Looking around, Ben said, ‘The guy who gave me your message said you didn’t have any luggage with you.’ Ena opened her mouth to speak. ‘You’ve stowed your cases already, huh?’ he cut in.

  ‘You know I haven’t.’

  Ben ran his hands through his hair. He looked near to tears. ‘So you’re not coming to the States?’

  Ena shook her head and whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘But you’re my girl. I want you to be my wife. I love you, Ena, I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I do love you, Ben, but as a friend. I never said I’d marry you, or go to America to live.’

  Ben looked downcast, his shoulders slumped. ‘I guess I thought in time you’d grow to love me. I know,’ he said with renewed optimism, ‘don’t make your mind up now. Give it a couple of months. I’ll go over today, find us somewhere to live, and you can come over later.’ Ben took hold of Ena’s hands, his eyes pleading. ‘What do you say?’

  Ena hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt Ben, but he wasn’t listening to her. ‘I don’t love you, Ben. Not in the way you love me. Marrying you wouldn’t be fair on you.’

  ‘I don’t care. I have enough love for the both of us. Hey?’ he said, a new desperate thought lighting up his face. ‘I’ll show you America. I’ll take you to see the Rockies and the Grand Canyon, and the Great Lakes.’

  ‘Stop it! Even if I wanted to, I can’t leave my family, my friends, my job, and move to the other side of the world. Not in the middle of a war.’

  ‘But I need you, Ena.’

  ‘So do my parents, Ben. I can’t leave them while my brother is fighting on the front line in France, and my sister is goodness knows where in the world. And there’s my job--’

  ‘Okay! Don’t come with me now.’ Ben cuffed his tears. ‘We’ll write each other, and if you still don’t want to live in the States when the war’s over, I’ll come back to England. We can get married here. We’ll stay in England if that’s what you want. We’ll live in Oxford; you’ll love it there. Or we could get a place near your folks. I’ll get a job here in England and we’ll go to the States on vacations.’

  ‘Stop!’ Ena cried. ‘Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.’

  They stood in silence for some time. Then Ben said, ‘Are you seeing another guy?’

  ‘Not in the way you think, no.’

  ‘What other way is there?’ he shouted, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘I love someone that I can never be with. Someone who I will never see again. And if I did see him, I would turn my back on him.’ Now it was Ena’s turn to cry. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’

  ‘I’m sorry too!’ Ben said. His voice had a bitter edge to it. ‘Sorry that you’re turning me down for that God-damn traitor, Henry Green?’

  Shocked that Ben had guessed she loved Henry took Ena’s breath. When she recovered she said, ‘I am not turning you down for Henry. I’m turning you down because I don’t love you. You know, Ben, it would be so easy to say yes, let’s get away from everything that has happened during the last three years and start afresh, but it wouldn’t be fair on you.’

  Ena picked up her handbag and lifted the strap of her gasmask onto her shoulder. ‘Good bye, Ben. Don’t think too badly of me.’ She wanted to hold him, tell him that one day he would find a girl that was worthy of his love, but that was the last thing he wanted to hear. Instead, she left him standing in the NAFFI and walked away. She didn’t look back.

  She had half an hour to wait until the base bus arrived to take the aerodrome’s civilian workers into the town. She sat on the grass by the bus stop and burst into tears. She had cared for Ben, loved him. She might have fallen in love with him, eventually, if it hadn’t been for Henry. Henry had put an end to her loving anyone after he’d kissed her on the night of the dance at Bletchley Park. Ena had never felt a surge of energy like it – not before, nor since. Her pulsed raced and her body ached for him then. It did now.

  At the sound of an aeroplane’s propellers whirring, Ena looked up. A big silver Douglas DC3 was lumbering down the runway. She watched the aircraft gather speed and cried for what might have been. Nearing the end of the runway, the nose of the huge silver aeroplane lifted. Seconds later, it was airborne.

  Ena watched the plane climb high in the pale blue sky and disappear behind a patchwork of clouds. She wiped her face and whispered, ‘Goodbye.’ Goodbye to Ben and goodbye to love. She knew she would never see Henry Green again. She also knew that loving him had spoiled her for loving anyone else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  There were three people in Commander Dalton’s office for the meeting: Ena, Herbert Silcott, and the man who had sat next to Ben on the train, the day Walter King was captured, who Ena knew was from military intelligence.

  Commander Dalton opened the meeting by welcoming everyone. He introduced Herbert Silcott and Ena to the man from MI5 calling him, Mr Robinson. ‘Shall we get down to business?’

  Mr Robinson nodded and read from his notes. ‘Freda and Walter King’s real names are Frieda and Walter Voight. Frieda has been on our files since arriving in England from Germany in 1938. Born and brought up in Berlin, she is the younger sister of
Walter Voight. From an early age, they were members of the Hitler Youth movement and in their late teens were recruited by Abwehr, the German secret service, where they were trained as deep cover spies. They are both extremely intelligent – although it was Frieda who called the shots – and they are both ruthless, high-ranking Abwehr officers.’

  Ena shivered. She hadn’t known Freda at all.

  ‘Thanks to your sterling work, Miss Dudley,’ Mr Robinson said, ‘Frieda Voight was apprehended in Liverpool trying to board the ferry to Ireland. Walter Voight, as you know, was captured in Rugby – again, thanks to you.’

  Commander Dalton nodded. ‘The relationship between Frieda and Walter is ambiguous. They are known to military intelligence as brother and sister but when the house in Northampton was raided it was obvious they shared a bed.’ He glanced up at Commander Dalton who raised his eyebrows.

  Mr Robinson returned to his notes, found his place, and continued, ‘It was while Walter Voight was at University in Oxford in the mid-thirties that he met and befriended Henry Green.’ Ena’s heart was beating so loudly she thought everyone would hear it. She took a slow calming breath. ‘During Voight’s final year at Oxford, Frieda joined him. She found lodgings near the college, and together, she and Walter recruited Henry Green.’

  Commander Dalton took over. ‘Green and Voight shared a house in Northamptonshire after leaving Oxford, which Frieda put a stop to, saying that two men living together looked improper and would attract attention. So, in 1939, when we recruited Henry Green to Bletchley Park, he found lodgings in the town.’

  ‘We have since learned the real reason for Frieda Voight getting rid of Henry Green was so she could spend weekends with her brother alone,’ Mr Robinson cut in. ‘To keep up appearances, Frieda flirted with men, appearing to enjoy the attention they gave her. In the early days, she even took one or two men back to the house in Northampton, but it was her brother who Frieda wanted, who she loved.’