9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

The anteroom was smaller than he had expected. So small, in fact, that Peter had to leave the garbage cart parked conspicuously outside the door. With the windowless door closed, he wasted no time pillaging the various drawers and cabinets, hoping to find that single penny pressed from a bronze planchet. His research of the famous penny indicated that its minting date was within the timeframe of his visit.

  As he thoroughly examined each compartment of each drawer, Peter only found nickels, dimes, and quarters. A handful of steel pennies were found with the pressing misaligned, but no bronze penny. He moved to a small wall cabinet and began to rummage around the open shelving. Unfortunately, all he passed over were paper bills. That’s when he noticed a small metal box on the top shelf and pulled it down. Upon opening the box, Peter’s anxiety threatened to burst a blood vessel. Inside was a plastic tray with blank bronze planchets. He quickly sifted through the blanks, hoping to find a pressed penny. There were none.

  Lifting the plastic tray out, Peter found the mother lode. There were a half dozen rolls of pennies lying at the bottom of the till among a few rolls of other denomination coins. He picked up the first roll and peeled away one end. His heart skipped a beat. It was the wheat side of a bronze penny. Flipping the coin out with his thumb, his eyes darted to the date: 1942. His heart sank. Tossing the roll aside, he grabbed another roll and opened it. Again, 1942. He continued to open each of the six rolls, finding the same date each time.

  Deflated, Peter tossed the box aside and contemplated plan B. He didn’t want to resort to it if he didn’t have to. Frustrated, he tossed the penny rolls back into the box and replaced the plastic tray. Before closing the box, he slid the blank bronze planchets into his pocket. He returned the box to the top shelf and exited the coining room.

  And came nose-to-nose with a familiar face. Peter instantly recognized Bartholomew Canter from his Operation Abraham research.

  “What are you doing in there?” barked Canter.

  “I . . . I was just cleaning out the trash—” Peter began to explain.

  “There’s no wastebaskets in any part of this area. You should know that. Who is your supervisor?”

  “Well, that’s an interesting story,” Peter scrambled. “I’m actually not an employee here. I’m . . . I’m a private contractor for the government.”

  “Come again? A private what?”

  “I’m a private contractor. Hired to find possible . . . security weaknesses in . . . various government facilities. As you can see, I’ve been able to make my way into the depths of the US Mint without being detected,” Peter said confidently.

  “I’ve been in the mint for nearly four years, and this is the first I’ve heard of it. I need to see your identification,” Canter demanded.

  “Well, Mr. Canter—or should I call you Bart?” Peter paused to judge Canter’s reaction.

  “I, um, Bart is fine. Do you know me?”

  “I do, Bart. I know about all the employees here,” Peter said, not lying. He just prayed that he could remember all the names. “I know the staff tonight consists of twelve employees. I know that there is no janitorial staff on this shift and that the coining room was unattended. I also know that the entire second floor is vacant this time of night.”

  “That could be just a lucky guess on your part,” snapped Canter. “So I’ll ask again. Show me your ID.”

  Peter paused, not quite sure whether he should show his military ID or not. Figuring he was in deep now, he made for his back pocket. He handed the ID to Canter.

  “I’m Pete. Pete Cooper.” Peter cringed at the thought of actually telling a person his real name in 1942, something that he had been ordered to keep confidential throughout the entire mission.

  Canter examined the ID, and although he wasn’t familiar with military IDs, he was smart enough to know a real one.

  “I, um, I’m not quite sure what to say,” Canter said as he handed the badge back to Peter. “We’ve not had any security issues for as long as I’ve been here.”

  “It’s not just for the protection of the mint. My task force is investigating multiple installations throughout the nation. In fact, my West Coast team consists of more than a dozen men and women,” Peter said, building his ruse.

  For the first time, Canter looked fearful. “I suppose that your presence here means we failed miserably?”

  “That’s an understatement. When I began my surveillance of the site, I found multiple avenues of entrance, some less conspicuous than others. Once I breached the perimeter, I found many more disturbing security deficiencies.”

  Canter hung his head in embarrassment. “I don’t suppose we can just get a warning? I mean this really is a first for us.”

  “I’m afraid not. It’s all going in my report when we complete our investigation next week,” Peter said.

  Canter found an empty chair and slumped into it. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m through.”

  “Bart, this is not completely your fault. True, it is your shift, and you are the on-site supervisor, but the entire staff has its part of the blame. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you.”

  “I’m not so sure. I’ve been given a written warning already for another . . . incident . . .” Canter trailed off.

  “I am aware, Bart. Something about giving a personal tour . . . to a civilian female after hours,” Peter said, recalling the humorous file from Canter’s employment record.

  “You must think I’m a horrible person,” Canter stated.

  “What I think has no impact on this situation. Sure, bringing a woman into the mint—a woman for whom you had romantic intentions—was certainly a lapse in judgment.”

  “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God,” Canter mumbled as he rested his forehead on the edge of the table.

  “Listen, Bart. Keep your head up. My report isn’t going in for a few days, and . . .” Peter paused, realizing that Canter was nearly at his tipping point.

  “And?” Canter begged.

  “Well, I really shouldn’t,” Peter said, letting out a bit more line.

  Canter raised his eyes to Peter. “Anything. I’ll do anything to make this go away.”

  Peter began to pace slowly for effect, keeping his eyes down as if dissecting a complicated equation.

  “There is this one thing that you could do for me.”

  “Name it . . . uh, what was your name again?”

  Peter smiled. He had him. “Pete. Pete Hooper.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The following day, Peter and Julie spent the better part of the morning and all afternoon gathering supplies for their trip to New York. They purchased luggage, clothing, and toiletries throughout the bay area. Although Peter had been out shopping with the doctors shortly after their arrival, he had been shocked at the cost of things, even with prior knowledge of the economy.

  “Miss Stewart showed you all those stores?” Peter asked Julie as they hauled the last of the bags up to their room.

  “Yeah, and I didn’t even take you to all of the shops. Gerty has a thing for shopping and knows nearly every clothing store owner in town personally,” Julie said before carrying two arms full of clothes into her room.

  Peter slid his suitcase into the closet and began hanging his shirts. “You two have really bonded, I’d say.”

  “What? Oh yeah. Gerty’s wonderful,” Julie said, walking back into the living room. “You know, I think she and Dr. Epson are in love, but neither of them know it.”

  Peter didn’t respond. It was none of his business, and he felt awkward talking about other people’s love lives. He changed the subject. “So, I think this should about do it for clothing until we leave on the twenty-fourth.”

  Julie nodded. “There are a few more things I’d like to get, but it’s stuff I can pick up on my own.” She lowered herself onto the arm of the sofa. She looked down at the cushions concealing the hideaway bed that Peter slept on. “There is something I’d like to know, Peter.”

  Peter had hung the last of the new shirts in the wardrobe before
turning to face her. “What is it, Jules?”

  “I’ve noticed . . . you gone at night. Last night, for one, and a few times last week as well. Is there anything going on?”

  Peter stood motionless. He’d expected her to become suspicious if she found him gone but hoped she hadn’t notice. Yet he was surprised at her directness.

  “Uh, yeah. About that. I’ve been . . . tracking some things down for General Applegate. It’s really nothing to worry about.”

  “Things like what? I thought you said we weren’t going to keep anything from one another.”

  Peter considered her statement. She was right.

  “So I did,” Peter returned to the wardrobe and pulled his satchel from the top shelf. “I wasn’t going to mention any of this until we were on the train, but I suppose now is a good a time as any.”

  He sat on the sofa and pulled out the manila envelope from Applegate. “The general gave this to me the night before we left. He told me not to open it until we arrived, which I did the afternoon we checked in.”

  Julie dropped off the arm of the sofa and slid closer to Peter, eyeing the envelope curiously. “What’s in it?”

  “It’s, um, it’s the additional information for the mission I told you about. Along with dossiers for everyone on the team. There’s information on Epson and Stewart, as well.”

  Intrigued, Julie picked up the envelope. “Information like what?”

  Peter slipped the envelope back from Julie and pulled out the various smaller envelopes. He handed them to Julie one by one until he came to the envelope with her name on it.

  She dropped all the other envelopes into her lap and studied her own.

  “What’s it say?”

  “Pretty much what you told me the other day about your past. The general thought I should know about everything that could potentially compromise the mission.”

  “How would my past compromise anything?” Julie demanded. “I’m completely dedicated to this mission.”

  “I know, Jules, but Applegate felt that you were . . . unstable because of your parental incident and your ancestors in France. After reading this, at first I thought so, too. But it’s just how he manipulates things.”

  Julie wiped a tear from her eye, not looking up. “And now?”

  “Now I trust you completely. I know you’re a good person. Julie, why would I share any of this if I felt otherwise?”

  Julie looked into Peter’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Peter.” She pulled the letter from the envelope and read. A few minutes later, she crumpled the paper in anger.

  “What gives him the right to judge me like this?” Julie demanded.

  “It’s okay, Jules. I said I believe you. Let’s not focus on Applegate’s mind games.”

  Julie nodded and smoothed out the letter and hastily stuffed it back into the envelope. “What about the other envelopes? And what does any of this have to do with you leaving at night?”

  Peter handed Julie the letter in which Applegate had informed him of the mole, and as she read it, Peter removed the remaining envelopes from her lap. He nonchalantly found his own and slipped it back into the larger envelope, along with Julie’s. She didn’t seem to notice.

  Frown lines grew on her face as she read, but Peter remained quiet until she finished.

  “So he thinks one of Epson’s assistants planted a bomb? I can tell you this, it wasn’t Gerty,” Julie stated confidently.

  “I don’t know what to believe, Jules. I’ve been out at night tracking down where they live,” Peter lied.

  “What good will that do?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s a start. You never know when we’ll need the information. It’s not like I’m going to bust into their houses and interrogate them. Not yet, at least.”

  “Not ever,” demanded Julie. “I think there are better ways to figure this out.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, first thing we need to do is share this with the docs. They are with Gerty and Michael every day and should be aware of this.”

  Peter nodded. “Agreed, but we need to be careful. I’m not sure how well the docs can play dumb knowing there may be a bomb in their future. How much of this other stuff should we share with them?”

  Julie contemplated Peter’s question. “Well, I don’t think they need to know about our past or what’s in their envelopes. I think we should just give them enough information so that they can observe the entire situation.”

  Peter nodded again. “Sometimes less is more. Certainly in this situation.” Peter returned the remaining envelopes to the large manila envelope.

  “What about our travel. What’s it say?”

  “The general doesn’t want us to read that until we are on the train to New York.”

  “And you think that’s the best move? Considering all the lies he’s told?”

  “I s’pose you’re right,” Peter said and pulled out “International Travel Information.” He opened it and began to read aloud.

  Peter-

  If you are reading this, I assume you are on the train to New York and everything in San Francisco is in order. Let me first say that what you are about to read may come as a shock, but in the end, I am positive that you will agree it is necessary for the success of the mission.

  Once you and Miss Frey arrive in New York, you need to check into a hotel for a few days before the boat departs for France. During that time, you will need to track down two people and persuade them to surrender their travel documents. I know this sounds ominous, but because international travel by civilians was mostly suspended during wartime, obtaining their travel documents is the only practical solution to get you two across the Atlantic without leaving a paper trail.

  The two individuals are Warrant Officer Alexander Cain and Miss Alicia Hamilton. Cain is responsible for war-related news reporting and is a civilian with military clearance. He should be referred to as Mr. Cain; no military title is necessary. Miss Hamilton is his personal assistant and has no military designation. They will both be staying in New York until their scheduled departure on Friday, September 4. Because they are both technically civilians, we feel that obtaining their travel documentation should pose no significant complication.

  I recommend your first approach be covert appropriation. If you can lift the paperwork from their hotel room, so much the better. By the time they realize their paperwork is missing, you’ll be boarded and on your way.

  If your first approach doesn’t work, you are authorized to detain them by any means necessary to obtain the documents. Because we are unsure of their temperament, we cannot not advise you on whether to use lethal force. Bring your weapon and use your best judgment. Peter, I need to express the urgency of this segment of the mission. If you are not on that boat on September 4, the mission will fail.

  For obvious reasons, Miss Frey should be advised of this letter. Best of luck to you both.

  Peter and Julie sat quietly as the implications sank in. It was several moments before either could speak, and it was Julie that broke the silence.

  “I, um, I’m not sure what to say. What did he mean ‘by any means necessary’? Does he really expect us to kill them?”

  “Of course not,” Peter said, hoping his confidence was believable. “I think Applegate just wants us to be very persuasive, is all.”

  “Then why did he say to bring a weapon? Do you think we’ll need one?”

  “I have no idea, Jules. I hope not, but we’ll take a side arm just in case.”

  Peter refolded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. As he and Julie sat privately waltzing with the possibilities in New York, they heard murmurs from the hallway. From the sound of the voices, it was the two doctors returning from their day at Epson’s lab.

  “We’ve got to tell them about the mole,” Julie said as she rose and moved toward the door.

  “Wait, Julie. I agree, but not a word of anything else.”

  Julie opened the door, startling Lamb and Larsson. �
�Hi, there. Can Peter and I have a few words with you?”

  “Sure thing,” replied Lamb. “What’s up?” he asked as he and Larsson walked into their hotel room.

  “What’s up, docs?” Peter said with a smile. “Why don’t you take a seat. There’s been a . . . development.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Michael Gallagher stood motionless as the elevator arrived at the third floor of the Perry Hotel. Even though the ride up was short, agitation overwhelmed him since he’d just been here five minutes ago, dropping the doctors off. But one of them had forgotten an attaché case, and now he had to return it. Initially, he’d thought about just giving it to them the following morning when he picked them up. But upon second thought, returning it now might give him an opportunity to chat with Peter and Julie and potentially learn something new. Even though Dr. Epson had provided them with military IDs, neither had been back to the base since their arrival.

  The chime of the elevator bell returned Gallagher to the task at hand as the doors parted at the third floor vestibule. As he approached the doctors’ room, he slowed and brought his hand up to knock. Before he did, voices echoed from across the hall—Peter and Julie’s room.

  “. . . imperative . . . to the mission . . .” Peter’s familiar baritone voice reverberated through the wood panel door. Gallagher couldn’t quite make out all the words, so he delicately pressed his ear to the door and listened.

  “I think we understand. You just need us to keep our eyes and ears open. Report anything out of the ordinary back to you and Julie ASAP,” Lamb said. “Do you have a hunch who it is?”

  There was a pause before he heard Peter. “I think it’s best not to speculate until we know more. You agree, Jules?”

  Gallagher imagined Julie nodding her head, since there was no reply.

  “Great then. Stay sharp and keep your nose down. There’s no need to raise any suspicion until we know for certain,” Peter ordered.

  Gallagher felt apprehension steal through him but left his ear planted on the door. Dr. Larsson finally spoke.