Today, though, we weren’t here for paintings or music.
* * *
—
The gray, soupy fog was so thick I couldn’t make out Nelson standing on top of his tall column. I could barely see the four bronze lions that guarded the statue’s granite base. David chose one in the front as his hiding spot. “I’ll make myself invisible but keep my eyes peeled,” he promised.
Before Eleanor ascended the steps, we had a whispered discussion. “I think you should sit on this front side too, facing the big fountain,” I suggested. “Don’t forget to listen for Big Ben.”
The face of London’s famous clock tower near Westminster wasn’t lit, because of the war. But the bells still chimed. “LR and I will hide near a lion on the National Gallery side.”
“All right. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, Bertie.” Eleanor reached into her knapsack and drew out a doughnut. “For Little Roo. Feed it to her slowly to keep her occupied.”
I watched Eleanor stride confidently to the top step, just below one of the four bronze relief panels that decorated the column’s base. She settled herself and tucked her hair under her hat, holding the closed book so it was visible.
LR and I moved into position. I pulled the feisty spaniel onto my lap and began to slip her bits of doughnut. I didn’t want to take the chance of LR being recognized—especially if Leo Marks turned out to be the traitor.
Sunset was more than an hour away. In the summer, people often lounged on the steps to eat lunch. But Eleanor was almost alone on this cold winter day. The waiting seemed endless. As one face after another emerged from the mist, I found myself wondering who among the crowd could be a spy. And not just any spy—a corrupt one.
When the sound of chimes broke through the fog, I jumped. First I heard the four-note melody, and then Big Ben struck the hour: bong bong bong bong bong.
I waited. Nothing. No one came near Eleanor.
All at once, I felt LR stiffen in my arms. She whined and might have barked, but I put my hand over her muzzle. “Shh, quiet, girl.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what had captured LR’s attention: a nondescript middle-aged man walking his dog. A handsome black dog, with a thick plumed tail.
I held my breath and ducked my head, pretending to fish something out of my knapsack. But I kept watching him from under my cap. The man didn’t turn my way. I saw him shoot a quick glance toward Eleanor. He hesitated for just a second, then kept walking. He didn’t approach her. But he’d seen her. I knew it. He must’ve realized instantly that Eleanor wasn’t Violette. Or maybe he’d been expecting someone else entirely.
The man was sharp—sharp enough not to fall for the trap.
But not sharp enough for us. Because LR and I recognized this pair. We’d seen them in front of the SOE office. I even remembered the dog’s name: Hero.
The traitor’s dog had given him away. TRAVELER might not realize it, but his dog was well named. He was a hero.
* * *
—
The man melted into the crowd and slipped out of view. I went around and tapped David on the shoulder, and we climbed up to sit beside Eleanor.
“No one came near me,” Eleanor said. She swallowed hard and her eyes filled with tears. “I looked and looked for Violette, but I didn’t see her anywhere. We don’t know where she is. And on top of that, the trap failed.”
“Bertie, does this mean we’re giving up?” David asked quietly.
“Not a chance.” I let LR down and gave her the last chunk of doughnut. “Once again, Little Roo has saved the day. She spotted TRAVELER.”
“What? How?” David cried.
I told them what I’d seen. “I recognized the dog immediately. I’m not sure you noticed it when you were trailing me, Eleanor. But when LR and I tracked Leo to the Inter-Services Research Bureau on Baker Street on Saturday, we saw a beautiful black dog with a woman.”
Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t remember. I might have been across the street then. But how do you know TRAVELER has anything to do with the dog?”
“Well, the dog knew the way to the office. And the same man I saw today came out of the office and greeted his wife, who was walking the dog.” I grinned. “I even know the dog’s name: Hero. So while we may not know TRAVELER’s name, Leo Marks will,” I concluded with satisfaction. “Maybe it’s time to go see him again.”
“Oh, this is wonderful.” Eleanor reached into her pocket, took out a handkerchief, and blew her nose.
I’d expected her to be more excited. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m still upset about Violette, I guess. And I started having chills sitting here,” she admitted. “I hope I’m not getting sick.”
Automatically, I reached out to touch her forehead with the back of my hand, just as Deputy Warden Esther had checked my temperature last night.
And in that instant, another memory came back to me. That tiny thing that had nagged at me since the night LR and I found Violette in the alley.
“Hullo, are you with us, Bertie?” David waved his hand back and forth in front of my eyes. “You’ve got this faraway expression on your face.”
“I just thought of something,” I cried. “Something even more important than going to see Leo. We’ll walk you home, Eleanor, but let’s make a detour on the way. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Where’s there?” David wanted to know.
“You’ll see. Just follow me.” It was all I could do to keep from running. But it was too foggy for that.
“This is the way to the command post,” said Eleanor after a while. “Is that where we’re headed?”
I shook my head. “Not quite. Just keep walking.” I didn’t stop until we reached the intersection of Maddox and Mill streets. “We’re here.”
“Wait a minute,” Eleanor breathed. “Isn’t this where you found Violette?”
I pointed to the “Food Waste for Pigs” bins. “Yes, behind there.”
“I feel like Sherlock is about to reveal the solution to a case,” David teased.
I grinned and took a breath. “When I was at the command post last night, Deputy Warden Esther felt my forehead to see if I was ill. But it wasn’t until today, when I checked to see if Eleanor had a fever, that everything came rushing back to me. I don’t think you’re too warm, Eleanor, by the way.” My words tumbled out. “You see, I remembered something I should’ve noticed at the time: When I touched Violette, her skin was warm. More than that, it was hot. Maybe because my hands were cold that night, I didn’t think much about it. But then Deputy Warden Esther mentioned that there’s a bad flu going around.”
“I’m not sure I’m following,” David said.
“Hear me out.” I pointed across the street. “That building is St. George’s rectory, a back annex to the big church, which has its main entrance on the next block. Well, Deputy Warden Esther just happened to mention that Mrs. Clark, the housekeeper at the rectory, said she’s been caring for someone with a bad case of influenza.”
“Someone with a bad case of influenza,” Eleanor repeated. Her eyes widened. “And you think that someone might be Violette?”
“Maybe. And remember, Deputy Warden Esther has only been serving at our command post for a few days. The senior wardens are both so busy they probably never mentioned to her what happened on Friday night here on Mill Street,” I mused. “She wouldn’t have known to connect the report of a sick patient with the missing woman. But I think…”
Eleanor didn’t wait for me to finish. She rushed over, ran up a few steps, grabbed the brass knocker, and let it fall on the red wooden door. Knock! Knock!
Almost immediately, the door swung open. A tiny woman with round pink cheeks and snowy white hair greeted us with a smile. “Good evening.”
“Hello. Are you Mrs. Clark?” I asked.
“Why, yes, I’m Kathleen Clark. Can I help you?”
“We hope so,” said Eleanor. “We’re…we’re looking for a friend. A friend who’s fallen ill.”
Mrs. Clark stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Well then, you’d better come in.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Combined with alertness of mind, the agent should develop a good memory.
—SOE Manual
We followed the spry housekeeper into a neat sitting room adorned with lace doilies, embroidered pillows, and a woven rug of pale blue.
“What a pleasant room, Mrs. Clark,” said Eleanor, reaching out to shake hands. “Did you do all this needlework yourself?” Not waiting for an answer, she went on. “I’m Eleanor Shea, from America. I’d like to present my friends, Bertie Bradshaw and David Goodman.”
Eleanor, I decided, could talk to anybody.
“Please sit down.” Mrs. Clark beckoned us to a love seat, where we huddled like pigeons on a rooftop. I held LR tight on her lead. There were a lot of fragile things she could knock over.
“I imagine you’ve come about Miss Smith,” Mrs. Clark was saying. “Dear Vi, as I’ve come to think of her.”
Vi Smith! Was that our Violette? Before I could speak, Eleanor said smoothly, “How is Vi doing, Mrs. Clark?”
“Oh, much better, love. I discovered her quite by accident, you know. I found her after that horrid air raid last Friday when I went to empty meal scraps in the bins. Luckily, I was able to rouse Miss Smith and help her inside. Why, the poor girl might’ve frozen to death….” She paused. “Though I did notice a strange thing. It seemed someone had covered her with a jacket.”
“Um, that was me,” I explained. “I’m a civil defense messenger. Actually, my little rescue dog here is the one who found Vi—er, Miss Smith. But when I returned with help, she’d disappeared. We thought maybe she’d gone home. And this street is mostly shops, so we didn’t think that someone might have taken her in….”
“We’re quite hidden away here, that’s true,” said Mrs. Clark.
“Has she been very ill?” Eleanor asked softly.
“Oh, dear, yes. She can sit up now to drink some broth, but she was quite agitated when I refused to let her get out of bed today,” replied Mrs. Clark, with a shake of her pearly curls. “I remember that terrifying flu epidemic in 1918, after the Great War, and I won’t risk a patient of mine having a relapse.”
“We’re ever so grateful for your kindness.” Eleanor beamed at Mrs. Clark. “Miss Smith is my tutor, you see. She was on her way home last week when she fell ill. My father and I have been at our wits’ end searching for her. And, by chance, we heard the wardens on Maddox Street speaking about your extraordinary nursing skills. That’s what led us here.”
As their conversation continued, David turned to me and said under his breath, “How does she manage to spin these stories?”
“I think Eleanor’s pretending to be a Mayfair society lady,” I whispered back. “Like that clerk she met in the bookshop.”
Mrs. Clark was getting to her feet. “Now, I can’t let you see her for long, mind you. But I think she can be safely moved to your house this weekend, Miss Shea. I’ll look forward to hearing from your father.”
Eleanor smiled. For a minute, I thought she might curtsy. “And I know my father will wish to make a donation to St. George’s church to show our gratitude.”
Mrs. Clark led us down a hallway. Knocking gently, she opened a door. “Miss Smith, you have some young visitors. I’ll bring in tea in a moment.”
She closed the door and we stood silently, staring at the young woman in a pink dressing gown, sitting up in a narrow bed with a cluster of pastel pillows propped up behind her.
“Violette!” Eleanor rushed forward. And it was Violette. I knew it instantly too. Not just by her face and dark hair, but from seeing my own jacket hung neatly on a peg on the wall. I’d have to explain to Dad how I got it back. Maybe, I thought, it’s time to tell the truth.
A few minutes later, Eleanor perched on Violette’s bed, LR in her lap, while David and I sat awkwardly on straight-backed cane chairs, trying to balance plates with homemade scones and impossibly delicate teacups. David finally slurped his tea in one gulp and returned the cup to the tray Mrs. Clark had brought in and left on a side table.
Violette beckoned for David and me to draw our chairs closer. “Eleanor has told me of your impressive deciphering skills. So you know everything.”
I could see LR eyeing the bed, so I kept hold of the lead. “Don’t even think about it,” I whispered in one furry ear. I didn’t think Mrs. Clark wanted dirty paws on her pretty coverlet.
“Not quite,” David told Violette. “Your last entry didn’t give many details of your escape.”
Violette smiled. “Well, it’s a long story. I got out of France by crossing the Pyrénées into Spain on foot.”
“How did you manage it?” I asked, fascinated. I’d never heard Violette speak in person before, but it was as if I already knew her from the notebook.
“First I took a train to a small village in southwest France. On the outskirts, I stopped at a farmhouse and met a woman and her son. Luckily, I had enough money to pay her to sew me a traveling outfit: riding jodhpurs and a knapsack. I traded my shoes for her son’s old boots.”
“Was crossing the mountains hard?” Eleanor asked.
Violette nodded. “But I trusted the woman’s son to serve as my guide, and he knew that trail like the back of his hand. Luckily, the weather was kind to us. Once I reached Spain, I bribed the captain of a cargo vessel to hide me in his hold and bring me here. We sailed in a convoy of other ships. It was during the crossing that I began to feel ill. I rented a room, but only arrived the day before I met you, Eleanor.”
“Did you stay hidden because you didn’t want the British to detain you in prison, as a possible double agent?” I asked.
Violette nodded. “Yes, I knew that with the Nazis controlling the radio messages to London, they could easily smear my reputation and claim I was a collaborator. My only chance to unmask the real double agent was to stay free—and work undercover.” She spread her hands in a gesture of despair and sighed. “But now what? I wasn’t able to spring the trap today. I’m not sure he’ll take the bait a second time. I’ve failed. And because of that, agents will be captured and killed. And the invasion itself—”
“No, you haven’t failed,” Eleanor broke in. She took Violette’s hand. “Bertie found your hidden message in the newspaper. We’ve just come from Nelson’s Column.”
Violette looked up in surprise. “Oh, my goodness. What happened?”
I took up the story. “Eleanor pretended to be you. A middle-aged man with a handsome black dog showed up. He didn’t speak to Eleanor, but I recognized him as someone I’d spotted before on Baker Street outside the Inter-Services Research Bureau, which we figure is just a cover for the real SOE offices inside.”
Violette nodded.
I went on, “We think he must be the traitor, but we don’t know his name.”
“Do you?” David asked Violette. “I mean, do you know someone from your organization with a dog that looks like that?”
“Je suis désolée. I’m sorry; I don’t. My training took place in the countryside,” Violette told us. “I had one interview on Baker Street, and met with my code master there only once. I don’t know who this man is.”
After a minute, I spoke up. “Well, that’s all right. Leo Marks will.”
“Leo?” Violette said sharply. “Leo is the name of my code master. How do you know him?”
“My foster family knows his father,” David told her. “And we went to Marks & Co, his bookstore, to see Leo. We asked him for advice about ciphers, because we had a hard time cracking your last message. But I pretended it was for school. I never said anything to him about you.”
>
“Could Leo suspect you are here? Could he have been following you last Friday?” I put in.
Violette took a sip of tea. “I did go to Baker Street before I met you, Eleanor. I stood across the street. I thought perhaps, if Leo came out, I might approach him. I…I wanted to trust him. But then…then I decided to be more cautious and changed my mind.” She stopped to cough and put down her cup. “We must talk quickly. Mrs. Clark will be back any moment to herd you away and make me rest. I’m afraid, mes amis, that I’m not a very good spy. I wanted TRAVELER to show himself.” She picked at the coverlet with pale, thin fingers. “But after that, I wasn’t so sure of my next steps. I thought I might go to your father, Eleanor, with my notebook as backup for my story. But how to get the highest military officials to listen, I still don’t know.”
Little Roo stood up on her hind legs and put her paws on me to beg for the last bite of scone. LR had been part of this adventure from the beginning. And looking at her, I got an idea.
“Actually, I might know a way we can get a meeting with the supreme commander himself,” I said. “LR has friends in high places.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The main question was no longer which agents were caught, but which were free. I ended my report by saying as much.
—Leo Marks, in Between Silk and Cyanide: A Codemaker’s War, 1941–1945
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 1, 1944
“Who’s growling?” said the man behind the desk.
There were a lot of people in the room. A lot of people and two dogs. It was probably one dog too many. At least Telek seemed to think so.
“Ah, it’s my own Telek being a bad host, of course.” The man grinned and pointed at me. “What’s your spaniel called?”
“Her name is Little Roo, General Eisenhower. She rescues people after bombing raids.” LR gave a little woof!
How I Became a Spy Page 15