Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II

by Padgett Lively

  “I know,” she repeated, angry that her shaken state of mind might get Billy into trouble again.

  Billy’s erratic behavior was quickly gaining him a reputation for unreliability. Evelyn had repeatedly tried to discern the reason, but he just brushed her off. She intuitively knew that it was partially due to jealousy, that her standing within the spy ring bothered him. Her maps and skill at tailing lent her some status, and she was frequently Mister Thornton’s first choice when assignments were given out.

  Evelyn generally made a point of being partnered with Billy. She rarely agreed to run a tail without him and tried hard to protect him when he was especially unpredictable. But on top of this, lately he had become secretive and downright smug. He continually hinted at having more important things to do. Today wasn’t the first time he had failed to appear at the appointed place to trade off a tail.

  Jimmy readily understood her hesitation. “Billy, huh?” He shook his head over her objections. “It’s not important right now, and it’s not what’s got you all out of sorts.”

  She took a deep breath. They had turned onto Front Street and were heading north just west of the docks.

  “No,” she admitted. “There was a hand-off after we’d turned onto Pine Street. I’d been following Peach breeches—”

  “What?” He glanced down at her, amusement forcing a wide grin onto his face.

  She blushed. “It was the color of his… well, his breeches.” She looked at him with annoyance and continued, “He passed something off to a fellow—”

  “And he would be…?” he questioned, still smiling.

  “Blue waistcoat,” she replied primly, ignoring his teasing tone. “I had to pretend to have forgotten something in order to retrace my steps and follow him…” She hesitated, as if waiting for another amused observation from her friend.

  Jimmy’s face settled back into a more serious aspect, and he nodded for her to continue.

  “Well, the short of it is, he entered the churchyard at Saint Peter’s and left it underneath a brick lining a grave.”

  The fact that Jimmy didn’t miss a step and kept his breathing regular was an act of sheer willpower. “Am I to understand that you retrieved what was under the brick?” he asked sharply.

  “Yes, you are to understand that,” she snapped with some asperity, irritated at the implied rebuke.

  They had turned onto Walnut Street, and about halfway up the block, Jimmy steered her casually yet firmly into a very narrow and smelly alleyway.

  “What are you doing?” Evelyn stopped in her tracks and tried to pull her arm out of his grip.

  His hand tightened just short of being painful, and he hissed in her ear, “Calm down.”

  Evelyn’s heart beat hard against her chest, fear suddenly making her weak. Jimmy’s typically good-humored face radiated anger.

  “The minute whatever you have is found missing, they will know he was followed. You could’ve blown your cover and maybe the whole network’s.”

  Evelyn’s relief that Jimmy wasn’t some enemy spy intent on doing away with her was quickly followed by indignation. She jerked her arm out of his grip, but her anger soon dissipated as the truth of his words sunk in.

  She turned pale, and her hand flew to her mouth. “No. Oh no,” she groaned. “But Mister Thornton says… I didn’t think… I didn’t even see him put it there. I just followed his footprints… I was so excited to discover…” Her words trailed off, and she struggled not to cry. How could she be so stupid? And here, all this time, she had thought herself so much smarter than Billy.

  Seeing her stricken face, Jimmy relented a little. But he was more than just angry about the implications for their network; she had needlessly put herself in harm’s way. “Blue Waistcoat” will think hard about who was near him on the street and may remember a pretty girl with a basket.

  “Did you see anyone else in the churchyard?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

  “No.” Evelyn shook her head vehemently. “I tell you he was gone when I came around the back of the church, and there was only one set of footprints.” She looked at him steadily, a little color returning to her face. “I didn’t follow him into the churchyard. I went around the other side. He could have been trying to flush out a follower. I thought if we happened to meet coming around the building, he couldn’t think I was following him.”

  Jimmy nodded. It was a good move, but risky. With no one else in the churchyard, she would have stood out no matter what.

  “So what happened?”

  “When I got to the other side of the building, he was gone,” she replied and shook her head slowly. “Like he had just turned around and gone back out onto the street. But then I found the footprints…”

  Jimmy pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. “Well, we’d better have a look at what you’ve got there.”

  He began to lead her deeper into the alleyway, but she hesitated.

  “Evie, I’m not going to do you any harm, but I didn’t duck into this place randomly. The back entrance to the Black Swan Inn is up here.” He turned and kept walking, and she reluctantly followed.

  “Why are we here?”

  “The people I work for keep a room for planning and meetings and such.”

  “Mister Thornton?”

  “I don’t work for the butcher.”

  He said nothing more as he pushed open the alleyway door, and they entered the dim, yet scrupulously clean back hall. They went up several flights of stairs before emerging onto a landing that was lit by two wide dormer windows, one at each end of the hallway. He knocked on the door of a corner room, and Evelyn was surprised to hear a familiar voice ask, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Jimmy, and Evie is with me.”

  She heard a chair push back as if from a desk, and the door opened to admit them into what looked to be a combination sitting room and study. Two comfortable sofas strewn with pillows and blankets bounded the fireplace, and three small desks were arranged with one pushed up against a window and the other two put together facing each other. There was a tea table and various other chairs to accommodate any number of visitors. An interior door opened into what looked to be a small bedroom. Evelyn could see a trunk and two packing crates just inside at the foot of the bed.

  A kettle hung over the fire, and a tray of bread and cheese, a small basket of apples, and a pitcher of cider were arranged on a buffet table against the wall. The two women standing on the other side of the door, one with a cup and saucer in her hands and the other holding a sheaf of papers, were her aunts.

  For a girl with very few actual relatives, Evelyn had a plethora of aunts, and almost as many uncles. These two had always been her favorites, Aunt Cara and Aunt Fancy. The other woman, who had remained seated, Evelyn knew only in passing.

  “Meet my employers,” Jimmy announced, a cheerful wave of his hand encompassing the women, “Three-Five-Five.”

  “What?” Evelyn could barely take in the feminine bustle and industry so in contrast to the masculine stoicism of the band of primarily men and boys who worked for Mister Thornton.

  Cara put her teacup down and came forward, grasping Evelyn’s hands and leading her to one of the sofas. “My dear, three fifty-five is just a little code name for our network here. It’s derived from the cipher we use to send messages.”

  Evelyn stared at her dumbfounded. Aunt Cara, lovely Aunt Cara, as neat as a pin and as delicate as a goldfinch, sat talking of code names and obviously involved in some sort of intelligence gathering.

  “I don’t understand.” Evelyn shook her head, trying to clear her brain.

  The woman at the desk had gotten up and come over with a hot cup of tea. She handed it to Evelyn and sat down on the other sofa, saying, “We haven’t met properly. I’m Verity Turner. Fan… your Aunt Fancy’s friend.”

  Fancy and Jimmy, who had gotten himself a cup of tea as well as an apple, joined the group at the fire. Evelyn was still staring at Verity. She was a tall, big-boned wo
man of approximately Fancy’s age. Her hair was streaked with gray and pulled back in a severe bun. She wore an elegantly turned out gown of blue silk and wire-rimmed spectacles that sat firmly on an aquiline nose, highlighting the large liquid-brown eyes behind them.

  “Yes,” Evelyn croaked then, clearing her throat, said more clearly, “Yes. Aunt Fancy is staying with you.”

  “True,” Fancy replied. “But I spend a great deal of my time here.”

  Verity smiled at her knowingly. “My father isn’t the most welcoming of hosts.”

  The women all laughed, and even Evelyn and Jimmy joined in. Ebenezer Turner was well-known as a fierce loyalist and unremitting curmudgeon. He also didn’t much like women and certainly not those who thought for themselves.

  The shared joke seemed to clear the air, and Evelyn relaxed and took a sip of tea. She put the cup and saucer on the table and asked, “What is going on here?”

  “A spy ring,” Cara answered succinctly, looking down at her lap and smoothing out the skirt of her gown. “One your mother and I began only shortly after we arrived from London.”

  “Mother?”

  “She was asked by Doctor Franklin to… well, to try and develop a system, a how-to so to speak, for gathering intelligence.”

  “Mother?” Evelyn repeated, “Doctor Franklin?”

  “Evie, really,” Fancy scolded, “stop bleating. Doctor Franklin is involved in almost all aspects of this revolution, and he has personal knowledge of Odette’s skill at… well at deception and investigation.”

  Evelyn had never known this about her mother, but she did remember her mentioning on several occasions the acuity of Benjamin Franklin.

  “Mother always said that no one could pull the wool over Doctor Franklin’s eyes.”

  “One of the few your mother couldn’t fool.” Fancy laughed and then sobered looking first at Evelyn and then at Jimmy. “What’s happened?”

  Jimmy quickly swallowed a bite of apple and relayed in a very professional manner what had transpired, “I found Evie walking down Pine Street toward the docks looking a bit dazed.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably at Evelyn’s annoyed look, but soldiered on, “She’d been following a loyalist since north of Market who passed off something to another agent. She then followed him and retrieved whatever it was at a drop in Saint Peter’s churchyard.”

  The silence that followed this much abridged account of her little adventure wasn’t so much ominous as assessing.

  “I was worried that she could have compromised herself or the Thornton network.” He looked back at the three pairs of eyes trained upon him and blushed realizing that in bringing Evelyn to them, he had panicked. “I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted, not putting into words his fear for her… that without a broader understanding she might end up getting hurt.

  “You did the right thing,” Cara reassured him.

  Evelyn, irritated at being talked about as if she weren’t present, said, “I don’t understand why I wasn’t told of your efforts sooner. Particularly since learning of my work with Mister Thornton, and…” She pointed an accusatory finger at Jimmy “…I don’t understand why he is working with you, and I knew nothing about any of this,” she finished, waving her hand indignantly about.

  Cara patted her lap soothingly. “It is particularly since you were doing such good work for Mister Thornton that we didn’t tell you. And Jimmy was only recently brought in on a recommendation from Hershel.”

  “Uncle Hershel?” Evelyn bleated and then looked apologetically at Fancy who suppressed a smile.

  “Hershel is a consultant of sorts, and during his investigation of the tavern fire he discovered Jimmy,” Cara explained. “And, well, Jimmy seems to have eyes and ears on every corner. So he is our very first trainee.”

  “Trainee for what?”

  “For the spy network that is going to have to be in place if we are to win this war,” Verity interjected. “We are something of a test run, a way to try out practices and recommend them to General Washington.”

  “You’re going to make recommendations to General Washington?” Evelyn was astonished.

  “Oh, no, my dear,” Cara clarified, “not us. I’m afraid he’s not quite that progressive. Ben will present our findings to him as coming from his spy network.”

  “He need not know we are women,” Verity added, “At least, not at first.”

  Evelyn had a lot to take in, and she delayed her response by sipping at her tea. Finally, she said to Jimmy, “So that’s why you knew not to take the packet.”

  He nodded. “I’ve learned it’s best to watch and see who picks it up and follow them. Sometimes, if you have a partner, one can keep watch and the other can take a look at it before putting it back. If we know the drop and their patterns, we can eventually plant false intelligence.”

  Evelyn looked around at all of them. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “We’ve all made mistakes,” Cara pronounced sagely. “We’re still learning, but I fear it will prove to be a dangerous game. So the quicker we learn… the better.” She looked around at her audience and added, “Now, let’s have a look at that packet.”

  Evelyn dug through her basket and pulled out the oilskin envelope. She brushed off some dirt from the radishes and handed it to Cara. Unfolding it, Cara found two pieces of parchment within. She carefully spread them out on one of the desks, and the group gathered around to view the contents.

  One was a letter and the other a map. The letter seemed innocuous enough, a missive beginning, “Dear Jeremy,” and containing news of the betrothal of Jeremy’s cousin and plans for the wedding, including a map of Philadelphia and possible inns where he might consider putting up.

  “Is it in code?” Jimmy asked, as Verity picked up the letter and held it up to the light from the window.

  “If it is,” she answered, squinting through her wire-rimmed glasses, “we are going to have a difficult time deciphering it. We would need a key; sometimes a book or other template is used.” She furrowed her forehead and abruptly walked over to the fireplace. Grabbing a candlestick from the mantle, she lit the wick. “But I think they used something else. Something that will prove much easier…”

  Holding the paper barely above the flickering candle, Verity moved it systematically over the flame to heat the entire page. To Evelyn’s astonishment a second set of writing appeared between the sentences.

  “What—?”

  “Invisible ink,” Verity answered without looking up from the letter. “There are various forms. This is the least secure; anyone with a candle can expose the hidden writing.”

  “Anyone with a candle and knowledge of invisible ink,” Jimmy retorted, visibly amused by Verity’s obvious scorn for such a simplistic devise.

  She looked up at him and grinned. “Well, as spies, it’s our business to know. But you are right. If the groundskeeper or any other regular person had found it, they might have been puzzled by its placement, but would have thought it an innocent letter. As it is now, the inns that are identified on this map appear to be locations for loyalist meetings and even some ammunition caches.”

  The collective gasp from the group was a satisfying reaction to this calm, matter-of-fact statement, and she grinned again.

  “Jimmy, I think its best that you get this communication to Doctor Franklin. Hopefully, before they realize it has fallen into enemy hands.”

  She gave him the letter and reached for the map only to find it missing from the desk. Evelyn was holding it, a look of worried concentration on her face.

  “What is it?” Fancy asked.

  “This map… it… well it has a mistake,” she replied, looking up. Evelyn turned the map to face her audience and pointed at a corner lot labeled “Harper’s Garden.”

  Fancy raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Harper’s garden is a local landmark, but it is never labeled on a map.” She looked at them, breathing a little heavily with the significance of her find. “
Except on a map I made for Mister Thornton that had the movements of some of the loyalists.”

  Evelyn remembered something else and looked again at the map. “And here is Bangle Court.” She pointed to a dead-end street and said, “That street doesn’t exist. I made it up. It’s a trap street, a technique used by cartographers to catch anyone copying their maps.” She looked at them urgently. “Don’t you see? Someone copied my map and used it to plot out the loyalist ammunition caches. Mister Thornton is the only person who knows the map contains these traps. Now, if they are showing up in a map for loyalists—”

  “Someone within our network must have given your map to them,” Jimmy finished for her. “And they copied it for their own use, thinking the only thing remarkable about it was the information regarding their movements.”

  “Exactly!” she exclaimed.

  “Oh my,” Cara muttered almost to herself, “it looks like we have a traitor in our midst.”

  *

  Evelyn walked with Cara up Walnut Street, having left the others back at the Black Swan Inn. It was dark, and the early evening chill was finding its way in between the thick folds of her woolen cloak. She shivered and looked up as the first stars twinkled in the night sky.

  So different than London was Philadelphia, much smaller and without the constant bustle and jostle of a disinterested humanity. It had a precise neatness that Evelyn had always found very appealing. It could be busy, and often was. Even now, farmers were harnessing horses to carts empty of wares; taverns and coffeehouses were doing a brisk business; hackneys and carriages were still numerous enough to create a fair amount of traffic.

  It was the port, however, that was the primary hub of commerce and trade, as well as the point of entry for most immigrants. Evelyn remembered well their arrival in Philadelphia. The bells had rung in honor of Doctor Franklin’s homecoming. She had clung tightly to her mother’s hand as they made their way through the jubilant crowd. Her father had arranged for a carriage to take them and their luggage to Mrs. Lynch’s tidy little inn.