Undeceived

by Cox, Karen M.

  Chapter 2

  Northern Virginia, CIA Headquarters

  February 1982

  Elizabeth exited the personnel office, pushing the door open with her hip while she lovingly eyed her brand new CIA employee badge.

  “Oof! Excuse me. I’m so sorry! Wasn’t looking where I was—” She stopped suddenly, staring up into a familiar face. “Hi!”

  He did a double take. “Well, hello there. Please tell me we’ve met somewhere before.”

  “At The Farm last month—you gave a lecture.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember. You were in the new recruit class.” He paused, squinting at her while he tapped his lips with an index finger. “Question about homemade inks, I believe.”

  “Wow, good memory!”

  “Good memory is a must in covert operations.”

  She laughed.

  He put a hand to her elbow to move her to the side and let the gruff man standing behind her through the door. “It’s Elizabeth…Bennet, right?”

  “Good memory, again.”

  “Why are you skulking around human resources on a fine day like this?”

  “Got my badge this morning.” She smiled and showed him her picture, proud as a new parent. “I’m official.” She turned it back toward her, thinking she might seem a bit overeager, like a kindergartener at Show and Tell.

  “Oh.” He turned his head to look at the badge from her viewpoint. “The photographer did you justice. Nothing like mine.”

  She glanced at his badge and tossed him a dubious look. His own picture showed off his Hollywood-handsome face to perfection. “Yeah, right.”

  “Look, I’ve got about a half hour to kill before I go to a meeting upstairs. Let me buy you a cup of coffee or something. A congratulatory cuppa joe for the new girl.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Mr. Wickham.”

  “Please, I insist. And call me George.”

  She hesitated.

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  “I’m not exactly sure…”

  He jerked his head toward the corridor. “Come on. I’ll show you a shortcut to the cafeteria.”

  He led her past three hallways and made two left turns before they found the elevator. He pressed the down button and turned to smile at her, making her cheeks pink up, a telltale sign of emotion. A failing indeed.

  “So have you got an assignment yet?”

  “I think I’ll be at the State Department.”

  “Here in DC?”

  She nodded and stepped in as the doors opened. “Isn’t that where we all start out?”

  He grinned. “Not all of us.”

  “Guess I’m not a hotshot rising star like you and the other guy who spoke to our class that last month.”

  “Uh-oh, who was that guy? How did I compare?”

  “Favorably. He was Uber-CIA Man, William Darcy.”

  George’s smile dimmed. “Don’t put me in the same category with ‘the London Fog.’”

  “Geez, do people really call him that? I thought maybe it was a joke.”

  The handsome grin returned full force. He leaned in and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “He comes and goes almost before dawn, cloaked in a mysterious shroud of secrecy, protecting the ignorantly blissful citizenry from the machinations of the Evil Empire. If you be a Commie, be afraid, be very afraid.”

  Elizabeth stifled a snicker.

  “Unfortunately, being ‘the Fog,’ he’s also dull and gray.” He paused and tossed her a mischievous look. “And cold and clammy, according to the ladies.”

  Her eyes widened even while she laughed. “You’re bad, you are.”

  “I am. You’ve discovered my fatal flaw. I’m bad to the bone.”

  The elevator door opened, and they stepped into the cacophony of the employee cafeteria.

  “Go grab us a table, and I’ll get the coffee.” He turned and pointed at her. “I’m getting a doughnut too. You want?”

  “Um…”

  “All new personnel need to be baptized with bad coffee and a greasy doughnut.”

  “You talked me into it.”

  She sat down at a chipped Formica two-top and turned to look for George. As he approached with a plate balanced on two coffee cups, she stood and reached out. “Here, let me get those before you drop the whole mess.”

  “Thanks.” As he sat, he fished in his shirt pocket and drew out some sealed creamer cups. “Didn’t know how you took it, so I brought these.”

  “Great.” She dumped in sugar from the glass canister on the table.

  “Oh man, I forgot a spoon. I take mine black, so I don’t think about that stuff.”

  “I’ll get it.” She stood and felt his eyes on her as she walked away. He was interested, she could tell, but she also knew she’d shut him down pretty quick. It wouldn’t do to let him turn her head, but neither would it do to be rude to a colleague, and a possible contact.

  “So,” she said as she sat across from him. “Big meeting today?”

  He waved his hand. “Boring counterintelligence departmental stuff.”

  “I’ll bet it’s not boring at all, but it’s top secret stuff and several levels above my pay grade. So I understand if you can’t say.”

  “I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you.”

  “Then for Pete’s sake, don’t tell me!”

  He smiled at her. “What about you? Do you have any idea what you’ll be doing at the State Department?”

  She stirred her coffee. “Well, I’ll be here at Langley for about another month, doing more orientation classes. I’m assuming they’ll assign me to one of the foreign embassies, probably as an interpreter.”

  “An interpreter! That’s exciting. What language?”

  “My degree is in Slavic languages, so I know Polish, Russian, Romanian. But I have sort of an unusual specialty—in Hungarian, which is of Uralic, not Slavic, origin—and I know a smattering of German as well.”

  “A woman of many talents.”

  “Guess my nerd is showing.”

  “Say ‘thank you,’ Elizabeth. That was a compliment.”

  “Thanks.” She stirred her coffee again, looking down to cover her awkwardness.

  “After you finish up your training, you can pretty much write your own ticket.”

  “I suppose I can as long as the ticket’s to Eastern Europe. But I gotta pay my dues first, like everyone else.”

  “Ah, but see, you’re not like the others.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Ha. What I mean is, it’s not every day I run into an officer who speaks fluent Hungarian. Let me hear some.”

  “Absolutely not.” She laughed self-consciously.

  “Come on. It’s a beautiful language.”

  She relented. “It’s a good morning. I’ve got my new identification badge, and I’m having coffee with a handsome guy who has a gentleman’s manners.”

  “See? Beautiful.” He took a sip of his coffee and studied her over the rim of his Styrofoam cup. “And I don’t understand any Hungarian whatsoever.”

  He glanced around, and in a hushed voice said, “Tell me, have you ever considered counterintelligence? A specialization like yours might be valuable there.”

  “I think every officer thinks about CI at one time or another. You know, catch the bad apple who’s ruining the whole bushel.” She considered telling him her CIA service was a family tradition, but then she decided against it. Elizabeth Bennet wanted to be known for her own accomplishments, and she learned early to keep information about her father confined to a select group of friends. “I heard you need field experience before you’re considered for counterintelligence.” She took a bite of doughnut.

  �
�You need certain skills, no doubt about that.”

  “How did you get there?” She winced. “Wait, that didn’t come out quite like I meant it.”

  “I know what you meant.” His smile was kind. “What you’re saying is, you want to hear the tale.”

  “Exactly,” she answered, relieved he hadn’t taken offense.

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “And one you don’t want to share?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just…well, let’s just say it was a blessing that came out of a curse.”

  She waited, catching and keeping his gaze.

  He sat back and pointed at her. “That. See there? You’ve got some counterintelligence skills already with your wide-eyed, ‘tell-me-your-story’ expression. And it almost worked, even on a cynical veteran like me.” He winked at her and bit into his doughnut. “The conventional wisdom might dictate that a counterintelligence man—or woman—have experience in the field,” he said after a moment, “but sometimes, I think it’s better for a CI officer to come in fresh, without preconceived notions or other agency contacts to cloud perceptions.”

  Definitely glad she hadn’t spilled the beans about her father. “Interesting point.”

  “Officers who’ve been around a while—they have a history with people in the organization. It makes it harder to be objective, especially in a setting like CI where you might have to investigate a respected colleague, even a friend.”

  He finished off his coffee and expertly tossed the empty cup in the trashcan across the aisle. “As much as I hate to, I gotta run. It was great seeing you again, Elizabeth.”

  “You too.”

  “Maybe we can run into each other again.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe I’ll make sure we do.”

  Time to let him down easy. “If you can find me. I plan to be all over the world for the next few years.”

  “I’m sure you will if that’s what you want.”

  “It’s definitely what I want.”

  “Well, then, since I only have one halfway decent foreign language to my name, I’ll just cop out and say auf Wiedersehen.”

  She returned the formal German goodbye. Apparently, he’d gotten her unspoken message; she was on a well thought-out career track with no time for personal entanglements. She watched him go, thinking it was a shame she wasn’t ready for a handsome, steady guy. George Wickham would certainly have fit the bill.

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth entered her apartment, groceries in hand, and instantly noticed the blinking lights on her answering machine. Pressing the button, she listened to the latest message from her mother.

  “Hi, Lizzy dear. I hope you’re out on a date and that’s why you didn’t answer your phone. Give me a call when you get in.”

  The second message was from her friend Charlotte.

  “Let’s get together next weekend for some dinner and a round of barhopping. I could use a night out on the town. You tell me the day, and I’ll round up the usual suspects.”

  Elizabeth smiled at Charlotte’s enthusiasm and mentally reviewed her calendar for the coming week. She began putting away groceries but paused when she heard the low, smooth voice with an undercurrent of excitement in it.

  “Elizabeth? Hi, it’s George Wickham. Listen, I’ve got to talk to you, and I hope you don’t mind me calling you at home. I had to cajole your number out of a little sweetheart in HR, but I think it will be worth it. Hopefully, you haven’t gone on to your next assignment yet, but even if you have, I want to bend your ear about something that just came down from the higher-ups.” He paused. “Something big. There’s a meeting tomorrow morning—just come up to my department at 9:00 a.m. Let the secretary know who you are. I’ll leave your name at the front desk. Sorry I can’t give you more time to think about it or more information, but we’re better off discussing this face-to-face. Hope to see you then.” He paused again. “Please come. I think you’re just what we need. And this meeting could change your life.”

  She played the message again, twice. She thought back to their conversation in the cafeteria. It had seemed so innocuous, like a dozen other pickup conversations she’d participated in over the last year or so, but something in it had led him to issue this mysterious invitation. “I think you’re just what we need,” he’d said. Could it be a chance to work for the coveted CI department? Even a simple assignment would look good on her track record.

  Regardless, she was going to show up and see what was what. It was flattering to be singled out.

  Her mother’s shrill voice echoed in her head. “Weird, hushed phone calls in the middle of the night…”

  “You hush, Mama,” she muttered. “It’s not even the middle of the night.”

  Elizabeth disappeared into her closet, pulling out every power suit she owned in hopes of finding the one that made her confident enough to say and do all the right things. Tomorrow, she was going to a meeting in CI.

  ***

  The director held out his hand and shook hers, holding it with his two in a fatherly gesture. “So, you’re Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Tom Bennet’s girl. It’s good to meet you at last, and all grown up too. I worked with your dad, respected him.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “The day we lost him was a tragedy. It’s good to see you honoring his service with your own.”

  “I’m proud to do it.”

  “Well, well. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  He ushered her into a conference room where George Wickham was sitting at the long mahogany table.

  “I believe you know George Wickham?”

  “We’ve met and talked briefly,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Nice to see you again, Miss Bennet.” George leaned forward and offered his hand.

  The director moved around to the head of the table. “Good, good. Elizabeth, we have an opportunity for you. A position we wouldn’t typically offer a brand new officer, but your unique talents are an excellent fit for our needs.”

  “I’m honored.”

  Elizabeth looked at Wickham for a sign. He smiled at her to show his support. “I gave the director your name after our conversation. You said you’d thought about CI.”

  “But most importantly,” the director interrupted, “you have the languages we need. In particular, you’re fluent in Hungarian.”

  “So the position’s in Hungary?”

  “You’d be stationed in Budapest.”

  “Traveling to Hungary has always been a personal ambition of mine. I’m certainly intrigued, but I’ve already been offered a job at the State Department here.”

  The director waved that off. “Not a problem. You can do both. The State Department’s a good cover for a CI officer; we’ll just transfer you to the Hungarian Embassy.”

  “What, exactly, would I be doing?”

  “On the surface, you’ll be translating: reports, documents, that sort of thing. For us, you’ll be gathering intelligence. Specifically, we’re looking into one of our officers because we’ve had some recent concerns. Your assignment would include monitoring phone calls, contacts, that sort of thing. You’ll feed the information to us, or rather to Wickham here. He’ll take care of the analysis and report to me.”

  She indicated George with a nod in his direction. “Where will he be?”

  Wickham sat up and folded his hands in front of him on the table. “West Germany. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”

  “Reasonably well,” Elizabeth said in German.

  He laughed. “I told you, Director. She’s perfect.”

  “Don’t you think you should tell me who I’m investigating?”

  “Not until you’ve gotten your additional security clearance. So, not until you say you’l
l take the assignment. If you do take it, and clearance is granted, Wickham will brief you. I will say that you’ll have an advantage. I pulled some strings to get this man posted to Budapest recently. He knows very little of the language, and he’s been asking for an interpreter for weeks now. So, he’ll be glad to see you. Play your cards right, and getting information on him will be a breeze. Wickham says he has an eye for the ladies, which you might be able to use to your advantage. Think it over, and let us know by the end of the week.”

  “I don’t need to think it over. I’ll take it.”

  “Excellent.” Wickham’s approval shone on his face.

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’d like you to take twenty-four hours to think about it.”

  “I will if you like, but it won’t change my mind. If you’ll have me, the job’s mine.”

  ***

  Elizabeth sat in the same room two weeks later, her security clearance approved, her bags packed, and her new colleague across from her at the same long conference table.

  Wickham spoke first, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, Busy Lizzy, here we go. You’re going to love this. The guy we’re investigating? It’s Darcy.”

  She couldn’t hide her stunned reaction. “Pardon?”

  “We’ve begun a counterintelligence investigation of William Darcy,” he repeated.

  “You can understand my shock. I mean, Darcy has a pristine reputation—”

  “True enough. He’s been a stellar officer in many ways. At one time, the top echelon here at Langley thought he had the potential to go far. But things have happened recently—events that have made them wonder. Anyone can go rogue, and part of our job is to ferret out who does and who doesn’t.”

  She looked at Wickham, gauging his expression. “You had an inkling about this before, didn’t you?”

  “I never trusted him much. Not really. But a lot of this came to light after we stopped working together—particularly, after Prague.” He rested his chin on steepled fingers as if lost in his thoughts. A look of misery passed over his face, and his eyes filled. He wiped them with the back of his hand. “What happened in Prague definitely makes more sense now.” He cleared his throat. “There are some things I still can’t talk about—things above your security clearance—but I think you deserve to know as much as I can tell you. That’s how I prefer to deal with my colleagues.”