‘Flight Lieutenant Vassy – vassykoff and Miss Halliday are here,’ he said in the sort of earnestly solemn tone reserved for the terrifyingly important. ‘Yes. I’ll do that.’
I began to wonder if I should be apprehensive about meeting this Mr Temple. On reflection, I decided not. I was doing a favour for these people by going out with the poisonous Dan Lowell. It was up to Jim and Mr Temple to flatter and cajole me into doing what they wanted. And if I didn’t want to do it, then I jolly well wouldn’t.
The porter walked with us across the shiny lobby to the lift, which gave us a smooth, almost silent ride to the sixth floor. I followed Jim as we both trod noiselessly along the carpeted corridor. He stopped outside a door marked ‘608’. The dignified silence of Dolphin Square made me feel nervous, and despite my intentions to be cool and relaxed, my heart began to thump. I wondered if Jim would use a special knock, as the spies always did at the flicks, but it was tap, tap, tap, just as normal people knocked, only quieter.
An efficient-looking young woman in a neat suit stood in the doorway, and said, quietly, ‘Flight Lieutenant, Miss Halliday. Do come in.’
I could only assume that even her crisp efficiency quailed at pronouncing Jim’s surname without practice. The thought gave me heart.
She led us down an oblong hall that had been laid with cork, Our shoes made no sound as we followed her to the lounge.
The room had been set up as an office. Antique-looking furniture gave a it an air of solid respectability, but all I could think of was how much it resembled a stage set. Act one, scene one: In the spymaster’s study.
A man with thick dark hair and a long face sat behind an ornate desk in front of a large window. He was probably in his early forties, and was wearing tweeds, like a country gentleman. His watchful light-coloured eyes were not quite green, not quite blue. A pipe jutted from the side of his mouth and the room was scented with the aroma of tobacco. I thought him rather ordinary-looking, but then supposed that spymasters would need to be inconspicuous. In front of him were a telephone and a typewriter and one file, closed, from which I deduced that the spymaster had a neat mind. He stood and came out from behind the desk to greet us.
‘How d’ye do?’ he said to Jim. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’ His voice was soft and slightly breathy.
Then he turned to me. ‘Miss Halliday. I’m delighted to meet you. You may call me Captain Temple.’
I wondered if Temple was his real name and if he was actually a captain. I murmured a greeting.
‘Please, do sit down,’ he said. ‘Would you care for anything. A drink, cup of tea?’
I was longing for a cup of tea but, taking Jim’s lead, I declined the offer. Captain Temple waved me towards the sofa, where I perched uncomfortably while he and Jim took an armchair each. Miss Quiet and Efficient left the room, closing the door behind her and it wasn’t long before the muffled sound of a typewriter drifted in.
Temple turned to me and smiled. ‘You must be wondering why I asked Jim to bring you here, Miss Halliday.’
‘I think it’s to do with Mr Lowell of the American Embassy,’ I said, looking straight into his pale eyes. They reminded me of a bird’s eyes, sharp and watchful. ‘Jim seemed to want me to accept Mr Lowell’s invitation to lunch next Saturday. But you should also know that Mr Casey threatened me yesterday.’
‘You’re a woman who comes straight to the point, I see. Capital. Yes. We want to speak to you about Mr Lowell and Mr Casey. Also Mr Harker and Mr Egan.’
I couldn’t help giving a slight jump when he mentioned Michael’s name. He drew on his pipe. A thin stream of smoke soon escaped from his lips and as the musty scent of his tobacco wafted over to me I pictured him in a deerstalker saying, ‘Ah ha, Watson, the game’s afoot.’
‘Before we get to the purpose of your visit here today, I have to make a few things clear,’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘What we are about to discuss is top secret. Do you understand what I mean by that?’ As before, his soft voice had a breathy quality that made it seem almost as if he was whispering.
‘I understand,’ I said.
I did understand. I’d seen the posters: ‘Careless talk costs lives’; Keep it under your hat’; ‘Keep Mum, she’s not so dumb’; ‘Be like Dad and keep Mum’. Just the other week I’d watched a propaganda film in which a tiny bit of gossip in the pub had caused the deaths of hundreds of British sailors. I understood very well what top secret meant.
‘What it means,’ he went on, as if I’d not spoken, ‘is that our discussions today relate to the security of this country. What it means, Miss Halliday, is that if you divulge a word of what we speak about this afternoon, you will be liable to ten years’ gaol with hard labour.’
My heart gave a thump. I hadn’t known that.
‘Nor must you reveal anything of the matters which led to me asking you to come here today. You spoke about them to Mrs Ashwin and Dr Levy. Don’t do so again. Anything that relates to the death of Harry Egan, what he carried and what happened to it must be kept absolutely secret. Do you understand that, Miss Halliday?’
‘Yes,’ I said, looking straight into his eyes. ‘I understand. I won’t say a word to anyone about any of it.’ What he had said had shocked me into an appreciation of just what I was involved with. It was deadly serious and as dangerous as Michael had told me.
‘Good.’ His smile was charming, good-humoured and avuncular. It terrified me. He puffed on his pipe and said, ‘It is frequently alleged that women are less discreet than men, because that they are ruled by their emotions and not by their brains. My own experience has been very much to the contrary. I have investigated a large number – possibly hundreds – of cases of loose talk and have found that in most instances by far the greater proportion of the offenders were men, usually trying to build themselves up to other men or impress a woman.’
All the time he was talking he subjected me to that sharp, birdlike gaze. I felt like a small, furry creature faced with a swooping owl, transfixed not so much by terror as by awe.
‘I can be discreet when I need to be,’ I said. ‘I can keep secrets.’
He nodded as if he knew that already and I wondered if my background had been investigated already by this frighteningly gentle and soft-spoken man.
‘You must be wondering who I am, what I do,’ said Temple. ‘My job is a simple one. It involves keeping an eye, and often two, on any undesirables who may be in this country. Sometimes this means lifting up a log in order to expose the things that lurk in the dark underneath it. Sometimes it means investigating in places that should be above reproach, such as the American Embassy.’
I nodded, imagining Dan Lowell and John Casey as cockroaches, scurrying around under a log.
‘What exactly did Mr Harker tell you about what Mr Egan was carrying when he died?’ asked Temple.
‘I know it was a little package of microfilm. I found it behind the photograph in Mr Egan’s watch fob. Mr Harker told me it contained photographs of damaging correspondence between Mr Churchill and Mr Roosevelt.’
Jim and Temple exchanged looks, and I had a moment of doubt. Surely I was right to trust Michael. He couldn’t be one of the nasty creatures crawling around under Temple’s rock. I couldn’t have misjudged him so badly.
‘That’s what Mr Harker told me,’ I said, now feeling uncertain.
‘He thought it did contain such correspondence when he went to the Café de Paris that night,’ said Temple, in his soft, whispery voice. ‘He assumed it was similar to a case last year, when an American cypher clerk called Tyler Kent at the American embassy had been secretly copying correspondence between Winston Churchill and President Roosevelt for a far-right group in London. The American clerk was prosecuted in secret, along with others, and is currently serving time in a British prison.’
I was puzzled. ‘If he worked for the embassy wasn’t he immune from prosecution?’
‘Ambassador Kennedy revoked his diplomatic immunity when t
he situation was explained to him,’ said Jim.
‘I should mention that the Americans were not at all pleased to learn that we’d had one of their employees under surveillance,’ said Temple. ‘Not pleased at all. So we need to tread very cautiously in this case.’
‘Michael Harker was posted to London to prevent such incidents occurring again,’ said Jim.
‘So Michael Harker is a spy?’ I said.
He’s an investigator,’ said Jim. ‘What they call a Special Agent. He works for the War Department, on secondment from the US Federal Bureau of Investigation.’
My eyes grew wider. I’d heard of the FBI, who investigated spies and gangsters in the United States. They were called G-Men. I knew that because I’d seen the James Cagney movie.
‘Then why were the people at the embassy so angry that Michael had searched Egan’s body? Surely it was his job.’
‘Harker has no formal embassy position,’ said Jim. ‘He must defer to officers from the Department of State, who are responsible for embassy security and who see him as treading on their toes. He is in a difficult position. He was unwilling to tell them that he has seen the microfilm. All he could say was that he was suspicious about Egan’s integrity and motives for going to the nightclub, and that is why he searched his body and obtained the watch fob from you. Not surprisingly, his explanation was not well received.’
‘Michael hasn’t told anyone at the embassy that Egan had microfilm and he found it?’
‘No,’ said Temple.
‘Why not?’
‘Once he had a look at it he knew that someone else at the embassy had to be involved in the matter. Egan didn’t have the security clearance to allow him even to see what was on the microfilm, let alone the opportunity to photograph it.’
‘Which means whoever gave it to Egan will be desperate to get it back, in case it can incriminate them,’ said Jim.
‘So it’s not just correspondence?’ I said.
‘It’s much more important than that,’ said Temple. ‘If the information it contained fell into German hands, it could cost us the war.’
I stared at him, wide-eyed. Was this real? I’d carried the microfilm in my handbag for over a day.
Temple puffed on his pipe again, and seemed to be thinking. ‘Miss Halliday, what I am about to tell you is about as secret as it gets, but I believe in letting my agents know the truth.’
My heart began to pound. His agents?
‘What did the microfilm contain?’ My voice was surprisingly level, when my heart was racing like an express train.
Jim answered. ‘The schematics of a device that uses magnetic waves to pinpoint the position of German bombers. When it is placed in the noses of our planes it enables our RAF night fighters to greatly increase the numbers of planes they shoot down.’
I threw Jim a triumphant smile. ‘I knew it wasn’t carrots.’
‘No, not carrots,’ said Jim, with a laugh. ‘That information campaign served a dual purpose. We got rid of a glut of carrots by convincing people eating heaps of them would help their eyesight, and we were able to provide an explanation for the sudden increase in German bombers being shot down at night.’
‘Very clever,’ I said.
‘We shared the invention with the Americans, partly in gratitude for Lend-Lease. They have fine-tuned the process and are mass producing the items for use in our aircraft and in their own,’ said Jim. ‘It’s technology that the Germans don’t have and obviously it’s crucial that they don’t get it.’
‘Someone with a very high security clearance at the American Embassy gave Egan the microfilm,’ whispered Temple, ‘knowing he would hand it to a British fifth columnist.’
‘Was it Lowell?’ I asked, almost whispering myself. ‘Casey?’
Jim shrugged. ‘Harker thinks it is one or both of them, but there are a few other possibilities. Harker doesn’t trust anyone at the embassy any more. It was a risky strategy for him, speaking to me about it, but he was desperate.’
‘Miss Halliday, I cannot emphasise enough how serious is the threat of information such as this falling into Nazi hands,’ said Temple. ‘We need to know that we can safely share our secrets with the Americans. Our ability to defend this country would be severely compromised if we cannot. We must be able to uncover the traitor at the embassy.’
His face was grim, and I believed every word.
I said, slowly, ‘But isn’t it just as important to find out who Mr Egan was meeting that night? The name of the German spy or British fifth columnist who was going to give the information to Berlin?’
Temple and Jim exchanged looks. Temple nodded.
‘Egan thought he was meeting a British fifth columnist who had contacts in Berlin,’ said Jim, ‘but he wasn’t. It was one of Captain Temple’s men. We set up the operation months ago, after the conviction of the embassy clerk. Egan contacted our agent, saying that he had important material that should be sent to Berlin. We didn’t know what it was. Like Harker, we thought it was probably correspondence.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Michael Harker what you were doing?’
‘Just as the Americans keep secrets from us, we need to keep secrets from them.’ Temple was unapologetic. ‘We intended to gather the evidence and present it to the ambassador, exactly as we did last year with Mr Tyler Kent. We weren’t aware that Mr Harker had found out about Mr Egan.’
‘The problem we’re facing is that we thought Egan was the only Nazi collaborator who remained at the embassy,’ said Jim. ‘Now Harker tells us that someone higher up must also be involved. We need to find out who it is and expose them before they can do real damage to this country.’
‘Mr Harker would have been the best person for that job,’ said Temple. ‘Unfortunately, he has been sent away.’
‘Can you get him brought back?’ I asked, trying to mask the hopeful note in my voice.
‘We’re working on it,’ said Temple. ‘
‘I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,’ I said. ‘What do you want from me?’
Temple frowned and sucked on his pipe. ‘If I had my way I’d have properly trained you, but we need to act quickly.’
Train me? The conversation was rapidly becoming bizarre. It was as if I had slipped into a twisty, unfathomable world and I wasn’t sure how I would escape from it.
‘I don’t understand,’ I repeated.
Captain Temple leaned closer. I resisted the temptation to move back, away from that unsettling gaze.
‘Miss Halliday, you have one great advantage over trained agents.’
‘What advantage do I have?’
‘You are already on good terms with Dan Lowell.’
‘I detest Dan Lowell.’
‘Hide your contempt. He appears to like you. What we want you to do is to become a closer friend of his.’
‘A closer friend,’ I said, on a gasp. ‘What do you mean. How close? Mata-Hari close? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.’
Temple shook his head and seemed pained. ‘A common misconception about secret service work is that women must use sex to gather information,’ he said, on a puff of pipe smoke. ‘I am no believer in what has been described as Mata-Hari methods. I am convinced that more information has been obtained by women agents if they keep out of the arms of the man than was ever obtained if they sink too willingly into them.’
‘So what exactly do you want me to—’
‘I do not want you to attempt to seduce Mr Lowell. What is required in this case is a clever woman who can use her personal attractions wisely.’
‘My personal attractions? I’m not sure what—’
‘Nothing is easier than for an attractive woman to gain a man’s confidence.’
I gazed helplessly at Jim, who shrugged. It was Ambulance Girls At War all over again. They wanted me to do something I was not able to do, thinking that my assets would be enough to get me through. Only this time no one could dub over my voice when I was with Lowell.
�
��Captain Temple, I’m the worst actress imaginable.’
‘All the evidence points to you being an intelligent and resourceful young woman. Brave, too. Patriotic.’
I broke in forcefully, ‘And a terrible actress. I’d probably just make things worse.’
‘If the Nazi collaborator is Mr Lowell, then he is not sure where the microfilm is. There are four alternatives: you have it, Mr Harker has it, before he died Mr Egan managed to give it to the man he was to meet that night, or it was destroyed in the explosion. He knows that Mr Egan slipped the fob into your pocket after he saw Mr Harker. That makes it much more likely that you removed it from the fob, or Mr Harker did after he took it from you. If he thinks you have it then you may be in danger. We intend to use Lowell’s lack of knowledge to our advantage and we need your assistance to do so.’
‘Casey threatened me yesterday. He thinks I have the microfilm. Doesn’t that make it more likely that it was Casey who gave it to Egan?’
‘Leave Casey to us. We need you to deal with Lowell. Will you help us?’
My throat felt very dry. Was I in danger? Could I act the part required? I looked at the floor and thought about it. I was used to flirting with men, being thought desirable, using my assets to make men desire me when I was onstage. I was able to be friendly to the most odious of men; you have to, when you work onstage, and I’d been doing so for years. I was also used to rejecting unwelcome advances, so I knew how to stop Lowell getting too amorous. Maybe I could do this.
Temple and Jim were both watching me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If doing this would help my country, if it would help Michael, then how could I hesitate?
‘What exactly do you want me to do?’
‘We want you to meet Mr Lowell and be friendly to him. We need you to give him certain information, but discreetly in the course of a seemingly innocent conversation.’
Ambulance Girls At War Page 27