She pointed out the window. “I’ve got a friend in Germany whom I’ve not seen in six years. He’s willing to deliver secrets from Germany that might help win this war. For whatever reason he asked me and Frank to come and get it. Frank’s dead, so that leaves only me. I’m going to Belgium and I’m going to get that book. And then I’m going to bring it back. And then I will deliver it to you. That’s what I was ordered to do. Yes, this isn’t an American military mission because we’re not at war yet. But it is a military mission. If you don’t want to help, fine. I’ll find my own way across the Channel. But I’m going.”
She glanced at Henry who remained mute. The expression on his face surprised her. He was looking at her with admiration.
Hastings stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. He scanned the papers on his desk until he found the one he wanted. He picked it up. “Captain Donnelly and Colonel Honeywell thought you might say that.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, we called them after the fiasco in Liverpool. Actually, we called the American Embassy here in London and they called your commanding officers. Here’s what they said.” He passed the paper over to her.
Lillian took it and read it. In all capital letters indicative of a telegram, the message read: “SERGEANT SAXTON MISSION OVER STOP. REMEMBER MCCLELLAN, VIRGINIA STOP RETURN TO US STOP”
She put the paper back on the desk. She had to make sure she didn’t give any indication of the coded message she just received.
“What happened in McClellen?” Hastings asked.
Lillian Saxton made up a story. “There’s an army base in McClellan, Virginia. We had reason to believe the quartermaster was siphoning gas and other rations and selling them for his own profit. I was sent in, undercover, to infiltrate as a buyer. We needed evidence. Supposedly, there was a ledger that identified the buyers. I was to get it. I found a ledger, but it turned out to be fake. The whole mission crumbled and the quartermaster, who really was selling things on the side, was never punished.” She shrugged. “They’re reminding me that for everything that might look like a shiny fishing lure, it can hook you and not let go.” She sat back in the chair, dejected.
Hastings beamed. “Well, that’s that. I thank you for your service here in Britain. And for taking out the Nazi spy ring, even thought we had it under control.” He said the last with evident meaning. He stood.
Lillian and Henry stood.
Hastings extended his hand and Lillian shook it. She grabbed her bag and left the office. Henry turned to leave but Hastings beckoned him to stay.
She turned in the doorway. “Can I get a car to drive me to the American Embassy or should I just a cab?”
Hastings was still standing behind his desk. “We’ll put you in a car and make sure you get to the embassy safely.”
“Good.” She turned on her heel. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Oh, and Sergeant?” Hastings called after her.
Lillian stopped and turned to face the British Intelligence officer. “Sir?”
“Don’t get any ideas about continuing this little mission of yours. We may be preoccupied with the impending invasion, but that doesn’t mean we can’t keep our eye on you.” He smiled.
Lillian Saxton smiled back. We’ll see about that.
CHAPTER 30
Lillian Saxton had to wait ten minutes on the front steps of the SIS’s office before a black car pulled up to the curb. A young man hopped out of the car and approached her. “Sergeant Saxton?”
“Yes.”
“My name’s John. I’ve been assigned to drive you to the American Embassy.”
Lillian studied the young man. She wasn’t sure if he had started shaving yet. His uniform looked a size too large. He wore no side arm.
She gave him one of her radiant smiles, the kind that stopped her fellow soldiers back in America dead in their tracks. This young pup all but melted. “I’m Lillian.” She offered him her hand. He took it gingerly, like a knight to his lady fair.
This is going to be easy.
“You’re so kind to do this for me,” she cooed. She picked up her bag and acted like it was heavy.
John jumped to her aid. “Allow me.”
She did.
He put the valise in the back seat of the car. He held the door open for her.
She slipped in and sat. While the young man walked around the car, she slid her skirt up an inch.
John got behind the driver’s seat and angled a look at her. He noted the skirt hemline.
She smiled. “Take me away, my English knight.”
John cleared his throat. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.
Lillian talked small talk with the young man, lacing her words with enough fawning to have earned her an Academy Award. All the while, she scanned the storefronts, looking for the right spot. She wasn’t sure how far away the embassy was, so she decided quickly.
“John, dear,” she said, “before we get to the embassy, I need to stop over there.” She pointed at a women’s clothing store.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I was told no unscheduled stops.”
“But, John,” she said, pouting her lower lip, “I can’t show up to the embassy looking like this.” She still wore her dirty dress from the car chase. “I need to get some, um, intimate apparel.”
She watched John’s Adam’s apple go up and down over his collar. She placed a hand on his arm. “Please.”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She leaned closer. The next moment, he pulled off to the side of the road and parked in front of the store.
Lillian pecked him on the cheek. “Thank you. I’ll only be a minute.”
She got out of the car and walked inside. A few ladies browsed the racks of clothes. None paid her any attention except for the saleswoman. She glided over to Lillian and asked if she needed any help.
“Actually, I do” Lillian used her American accent. “You see that man in the car out there.” She pointed. “He’s taking me back to Liverpool to catch a boat back to America. But my boyfriend, a British soldier, is stationed here in London. I know I have to go back, but I want one more night with him.” She winked at the woman. “Do you think I could slip out the back, catch a cab?”
A thin smile formed on the saleswoman’s mouth. “I think I can help you.”
“Oh, and if he comes in, make sure to delay him.”
The saleswoman pursed her lips. “Why?”
“I don’t want him to get into too much trouble. I just want to slip away for a few more hours.”
The saleswoman nodded.
Lillian walked to the back of the store and waited. How long before John would come in looking for her? The answer turned out to be fifteen minutes.
John got out of the car and came inside the store. The jangling bell was Lillian’s signal to go out the back. She heard the saleswoman telling John that Lillian was in a dressing room.
Thankfully, the back door did not have a bell. Lillian exited out the back alley, came around the side of the store, and peeked inside. From her vantage point, she couldn’t see John. Which meant he couldn’t see her. She needed her valise and, preferably, the car. She wondered if he had left the keys in the ignition. More important, she hoped when she got to the car, his line of sight would still be covered.
Lillian crept out from the side of the building and reached the passenger door. She cursed when she had to go around the car, forgetting that this was Britain and the cars were built backward. She opened the door and snatched up her bag. She glanced at the ignition.
No key.
She could hot wire a car; no problem. But would she have the time to do it and get away without being seen?
The traffic kept moving past her while she pondered her situation. She wasn’t immediately aware a car had pulled up and stopped next to her until a driver honked in protest.
Henry sat behind the wheel the other car.
“Going somewhere?” he said. He grinned.
The car behind Hen
ry honked again. Lillian glanced back into the store. She and John locked eyes. She turned back to Henry. “Yes.”
He nodded. “Get in.”
She did. He pulled away quickly.
Looking behind them, Lillian saw John get in his car and set off in pursuit.
“You can lose him, right?” she asked. “He looks like he’s fourteen.”
“He’s eighteen and an excellent driver. But, yeah, I can lose him.”
Lillian watched John’s car quickly lose ground to Henry’s skillful maneuvering. But she frowned when two other cars, both of the same make and model, veered from side streets and angled in their direction.
“Well,” Henry said, “I guess I wasn’t the only one who decided to follow you.”
Lillian reached into her bag and pulled out her pistol.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Henry exclaimed. “Those are my peers. They’re just doing their job.”
“What are you doing?”
“My job. The one George Ludlow assigned me: get that codebook and bring it back.”
“Then why are your friends chasing us?”
Henry grinned. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. “Because my bosses and I don’t see eye to eye.” He executed a hairpin turn down a narrow street and gunned the engine. The car, already moving fast, sped up.
Lillian processed his comment. “Wait, are you saying you’re going to help me?”
“Tell me about McClellan, Virginia.”
She hesitated a moment, then relented. “Complete fabrication. It’s a coded message. In our Civil War, Union General George McClellan found plans for Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s marching orders.” Lillian had to hang onto the dashboard when Henry blasted out of the narrow street and onto a wider one. Both pursuit cars still tailed them.
“Anyway, McClellan had the plans in his grasp. He beat Lee at Antietam, but failed to end the war conclusively in 1862. He feared it might be counter-espionage. The war dragged on for three more years.”
She looked back. Only one car chased them. It was gaining. She found the second one when Henry slammed on the brakes. One of the pursuers had come around and blocked Henry’s progress.
“Pardon me,” Henry muttered. He threw the car into gear and drove up and onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians dove out of the way. Henry avoided all bystanders and came around the pursuit car that had blocked the street.
“Your gun, please.”
Mutely, Lillian handed it to him. He stuck his arm outside the car and sent two bullets into one of the tires of the second pursuit car. The tire blew and air whooshed out. The vehicle visibly slumped. Effectively, he had taken out that car and blocked the passage of the other one.
Henry handed the gun back to her. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Not taking anything for granted, Henry pressed his advantage with speed. He zigzagged through traffic.
“We’re not going to the American Embassy, are we?” Lillian asked.
“Do you want to? I can certainly make my way there.”
“Not on your life. So, what’s our next move?”
Henry chuckled dryly. “This is child’s play. Getting across the Channel will be the tough part.”
“We just pick up a ferry, right?”
Henry shook his head. “Americans. In case you have forgotten, we’re already at war. One of the first things we did was to set up a blockade along the Channel. All ships, no matter the country of origin, are subject to a search for contraband and materials the Nazis could use.” He angled the car on a highway.
Lillian read the sign; they were leaving London’s city limits.
“Every ship has to list its manifest and crew. Royal navy men stop every ship in Channel waters. A team is sent onto the ship and a full inspection is conducted. Wireless radio sends messages back to the Contraband Control. They verify manifests and crew. If a ship passes, she sails on. If not, all contraband is confiscated and the ship’s crew is detained.” Henry glanced at her sidelong. “If that happens, we’re pretty much screwed.”
“We?”
“Of course, we. After what I just pulled, the only way I stay out of the stockade or avoid being tried for treason is if I come back with that codebook. Even then, I’ll likely be punished. But I’m fine with that provided we get the book and bring it back. Once the thick-headed bosses back at SIS see what we’ve done, they’ll thank us.” He paused. “I think.”
Lillian smiled. “Okay, Henry. Thanks.” At that moment, something in her relaxed about Henry. In fact, she nearly revealed to him the other reason she was so keen on meeting James Geiger.
But she refrained. There would be time enough to tell him once they were in Brussels.
“So, Mr. Traitor,” she mocked, “what’s your plan for evading the most powerful navy in the world?”
Henry angled his head, acknowledging touché. “I know a guy who owes me a favor.”
CHAPTER 31
General Siegfried allowed Gunter Graf to select exactly one person for the team. The other four members of the six-person party were supplied by Siegfried himself. Graf wondered why, but only a few moments’ thought told him the answer: so Siegfried, via his proxy, could take over the mission.
“You are in complete command of this assignment, Herr Colonel,” Siegfried had said. “All the praise will be yours and your team’s.” What he left unsaid was that all the blame if it went wrong would also be Graf’s to bear.
Graf looked around the small squad room in the motor pool of his building. He wore his uniform, tightly buttoned to the top. A slight scent of his wife’s perfume permeated the fabric. She had also given him a handkerchief with her perfume. This he had tucked into his pocket.
His aide, Wilhelm Lang, was the one person Graf selected. The young man was in his 20s, blond as der Führer’s epitome of Aryan breeding, displayed no fear in assembling his road gear. In addition to his uniform, he now wore a side arm in a holster. The flap covered the Luger.
Adolf Richter had the unfortunate luck to be named after der Führer. His parents had read Mein Kampf and become devoted followers of Hitler. Dieter Wolf and Kurt Schmidt were the other two men. All excelled in small arms combat and hand-to-hand fighting. Each wore a pistol on one side of his waist and a sheathed knife on the other. When Siegfried had told Graf of their credentials, especially in Poland last fall, Graf questioned the general. Both men looked ready for action.
“We’re not going into combat.”
“Yes, we are. Again, the difference between academia and the real world.”
Graf looked at Wolf and Schmidt. Their eyes told him they had already seen things in this world he never had. It chilled his bones to think what they had done.
Ursula Koch rounded out the small party. Unlike the men in the team, she wore civilian clothes consisting of a long gray dress, with a modest plunge of the neckline. Her blond hair was swept back up and over her ears. Her only concession to the task at hand was the pistol she wore on her waist. If Wolf’s and Schmidt’s looks were hard, Ursula’s was harder. It looked odd for a pretty woman like that to have murder and determination in her eyes.
On her wrist, Ursula wore a black leather bracelet. The watch attached to it was government issue.
“Show Herr Colonel your watch, Ursula,” Siegfried said.
She strode over to Graf and held it up in front of his face. She reached up and, with a thumbnail, slid a long, thin, metal wire from inside the watch. She mimed choking Graf.
He was proud of himself for not flinching. He had assumed as much, but wanted to verify.
Verification complete.
“Nice,” Graf said. “Let’s hope you don’t have cause to use it.”
“Herr Colonel,” Ursula said, “I’m always prepared to do what it takes for der Führer and das Vaterland.”
Siegfried called the team to attention. All but Graf complied. Satisfied, Siegfried deferred to Graf.
Herr Colonel took a ste
p in front of his team and stopped. Ironically, this was the first time since joining the Wehrmacht that he was speaking in front of people. Meetings rarely counted since he only delivered reports and often did it from a seated position. Here, this was like old times, his professorial days when he prided himself on holding students’ attention for the full period.
“Gentlemen and Fräulein, our mission is simple: listen and act. We have a situation where one of our own may be secretly trying to deliver secrets of das Vaterland to a foreign power in the form of one or two foreign agents. We don’t know that for certain. That’s what we’re going to ascertain. According to my sources, our man, named James Geiger, is to meet these agents in Brussels. We will be there as well. We will act under my authority. If what we fear turns out to be true, we will act. We will detain Geiger, confiscate whatever material he possesses, and deal with the foreign agents as necessary.”
Graf glanced at Siegfried. Herr General remained impassive.
“Any questions?”
“Herr Colonel, sir,” Ursula said. “Request permission to deal with the woman myself.”
“Let’s hope that isn’t necessary.”
“Fräulein Koch,” Siegfried cut in, “the mission is the priority, not personal glory. However, if the situation arises and the spies need to be dealt with, I think we can all agree that Fräulein Koch can take care of anything our weaker enemies can throw at us.”
Graf bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding.
“Sir?” Dieter Wolf said. “What’s your policy on collateral damage?”
Graf hesitated an instant. He knew the date the invasion was to begin, but couldn’t be sure if they did. “While a state of war exists between the Vaterland and France and Britain—and we believe one of the spies is a British citizen—currently Belgium is neutral. It would be better to keep collateral damage to a minimum unless circumstances change.”
“Herr Colonel,” Siegfried said, “fall in with your team.”
Ulterior Objectives: A Lillian Saxton Thriller Page 16