Treacherous Is the Night Page 9

  She nodded.

  My shoulders fell and I silently cursed. I’d felt certain I could get some answers from C, that he would even find my efforts to gain access to him amusing. But his second-in-command? Not so much.

  I turned to see Major Davis scowling at me in that supercilious way of his from the doorway on the opposite side of the room. “Mrs. Kent, may I have a word?”

  I barely managed to suppress a sigh of frustration, for there were few people in the world I detested more than Major Davis. Kathleen cast me a look of empathy, and even the young officer seemed to cringe in compassion.

  There was no doubt Major Davis possessed some redeemable qualities and his fair share of intelligence, otherwise C would never have tolerated him for so long as his second-in-command. But in my estimation, he was naught but an officious pig, no offense to the swine. Not that he had any higher opinion of any of the women in the Secret Service. He believed we were ruled purely by our passions, and just as likely to betray Britain for love or revenge as to serve it. However, he’d taken a particular dislike of me almost from the beginning. I liked to think this was because he knew I was cleverer than he, but I’m not sure he was that insightful.

  Whatever the reason, our relationship was contentious. So, it was with great reluctance that I turned to follow him into his office. “Oh, dear. Am I in trouble?” I mocked in a lilting voice.

  He shut the door with a sharp click, shaking his head at me as if he was scolding a child. “Mrs. Kent, this is unacceptable. You were released from the service . . .” He glanced at his calendar as if he didn’t know the precise date I’d been demobilized. “Over four months ago. Do I need to have you escorted from the building?”

  It had not failed my notice that he’d not offered me a seat, but I sank into one of the chairs across from his desk anyway, prompting a glare from behind his monocle. I was certain he’d taken the affectation as a ploy to exploit C’s vanity, for the chief also wore one.

  “I’m quite aware of when I was given my papers, thank you. But I need to speak with C. It’s come to my attention that someone who was part of the service, and perhaps still is employed here, is in violation of the Official Secrets Act.”

  “Yes, we know.” The dry tone of this voice and the censorious gleam in his eyes left me in no doubt as to whom he was accusing.

  I’d wondered if anyone at the Secret Service would question whether I’d shared confidential information with my husband. Whether they would think I’d gone rogue, joining forces with Sidney from the very beginning to catch the traitors we’d finally unmasked a few weeks prior. This meant that I would have been cognizant of his feigned death and desertion following his life-threatening injury. The idea was preposterous. But in Major Davis’s prejudiced mind, this must seem vindication of his belief that, as a woman, I was a slave to my emotions.

  Ignoring his vague indictment, I arched my eyebrows. “Then you are aware of the person who’s been selling classified information to a medium who calls herself Madame Zozza.”

  His expression shifted from disapproving to dubious.

  “That is, unless Mona Kertle was directly employed by the Secret Service?”

  Rather than answer my question, he flicked his gaze scornfully up and down my form. “Why am I not surprised you consult a mystic?”

  “I do not consult mystics,” I retorted sharply, glad I’d decided to be vague about how I’d discovered my information. “The woman is a fraud, but she was also in possession of sensitive information. Information that pertains to our intelligence networks in the German-occupied areas.”

  He sat back, narrowing his eyes as he considered me. I recognized this tactic for what it was. He was stalling. What I didn’t know, was whether this was because he knew something, or if he was simply struggling to think of a cutting comeback.

  “Perhaps because of that . . . little matter you and your husband managed to clear up for us on Umbersea Island, you believe that gives you the right to . . . dabble in other matters of intelligence-gathering.” He waved his fingers as if I was embroidering a sampler. “But it does not.”

  My cheeks flushed with anger and I was forced to bite my tongue on the scathing retort I wanted to give. Little matter? Since when was treason a “little matter”?

  But in this instance, the incident on Umbersea Island was of no consequence. Except to underscore my capability. Of course, I was sure he completely attributed our success to the fact that Sidney had been there.

  “I’m not ‘dabbling’ in anything,” I replied with a clenched jaw. “I am informing you of information I happened to discover. Information that clearly demonstrates someone is in breach of the Official Secrets Act. So that perhaps this agency can do something about it, lest the damage be even more serious.”

  He huffed an exasperated breath. “How do you know this information is particularly sensitive?”

  “Because it happens to involve me and some of the other agents I liaisoned with in Belgium and France. This Madame Zozza knew one of the agent’s code names.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t declassified?”

  I arched a single eyebrow derisively, not bothering to hide what a stupid question I thought that was. He knew as well as I did that nothing was ever declassified unless it had to be.

  He tapped his fingers against the blotter on his desk. “You said it involves agents in Belgium and France? One of them probably bragged about their experiences. They’re not like us, you know. The partnership was merely expedient.”

  I scowled at his cool dismissal of the dangerous work those in La Dame Blanche and other intelligence-gathering networks like it had undertaken. They’d risked their lives daily to report on German troop movements, and hunt down rumors of the enemy’s plans.

  I shook my head. “La Dame Blanche took an oath of allegiance. . .”

  “Not officially.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already rising to his feet. Their oath had been as serious to them as anything we had sworn, and more immediate. For they had known if they broke it, it could mean death for them and their comrades. La Dame Blanche was not some patchwork of loosely connected spies, it was a structured, militarized network of agents.

  “Regardless, we’ll look into the matter.” His voice conveyed he thought this a waste of time. “So you needn’t concern yourself with it.”

  Refusing to have him stand over me, I rose to my feet. “Then you should know that Mona Kertle is dead.”

  His brow furrowed. “Dead?”

  “Yes. She was killed when her house went up in flames yesterday morning.”

  “Well, then, the matter is closed.”

  “No,” I replied, no longer able to keep the contempt from my voice. “That fire was extremely suspicious. And we still don’t know who shared that classified information with her.”

  “There is no ‘we’ about it,” he snapped. “You are no longer with the service. Anything that needs to be done will be handled out of this office.” He lifted his chin, staring down his weaselly nose at me. “Is that clear?”

  “And what of C—”

  “I shall inform him of your visit and your . . . concerns.”

  I clenched my fists at my side. Of the former I was certain, but I doubted he would deliver the information I’d shared with any resolve, if he shared any part of it at all.

  “Now, can you show yourself out, or do I need to send for Lieutenant Ross?”

  “I know the way.” I yanked open the door, but before I could depart, Major Davis offered one last remark.

  “Oh, and Mrs. Kent, I am ordering you to stay out of this matter. Should I discover you disregarded this warning or should you attempt to visit us here again, I will not hesitate to contact Scotland Yard.” His eyes gleamed with the pleasure it would give him to see me arrested. “Is that clear?”

  “Except I’m no longer a member of the service, as you so helpfully reminded me. So you have no authority to order me to do anything,” I replied as I cl
osed the door. Perhaps it would have been wiser to hold my tongue and allow Major Davis to believe he’d won, but once the words were out of my mouth, I couldn’t call them back.

  However, one thing was for sure, he didn’t want me anywhere near this. It was true Major Davis had always held me in disdain, but he’d never overtly threatened me. Not when he knew C would countermand whatever his intentions were. For him to do so now must mean he really didn’t want me to investigate, or to share what I’d discovered with C. I had to wonder why? Was he just being an interfering bounder, or was he genuinely worried?

  Kathleen glanced up at me as I exited, her gaze sympathetic.

  I inhaled a deep, calming breath, and projected a lighthearted voice. “Good to see you,” I told her, forming the letter “C” with my hand, and shielding it from the view of any who might be watching through the open doorway with my handbag.

  Her eyes dipped to see it, but did not react. “Take care, Ver.”

  I strode away, tossing greetings to the men I cared to, and ignoring the rest. None of my former colleagues would be surprised Major Davis and I had argued. After all, during the latter years of the war, it had occurred on an almost weekly basis.

  As I strolled through the entry, I made certain to flash a winning smile toward the man I’d charged past, presumably the estimable Lieutenant Ross. He didn’t return my grin, but his brow cleared of some of its displeasure.

  “Good day!” I called with a jaunty wave before sailing out the door.

  * * *

  A short time later, Kathleen came striding down Whitehall Place from Whitehall Court. She walked swiftly, but steadily, her handbag clutched under her arm, and her face tilted up to catch the rays of the sun that had penetrated through the blanket of clouds. From my vantage at the corner of Northumberland, I had a clear view of her progress. So when she veered left toward Charing Cross, I could tell that no one from the service was tailing her.

  I hurried up the smaller lanes which veered north toward the Strand and into the forecourt of Charing Cross Station. I reached the base of the gothic Queen Eleanor Memorial Cross, a replica of the medieval Eleanor Cross, just as Kathleen approached from Trafalgar Square.

  “Was I followed?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I see Major Davis is as odious as ever.”

  She screwed up her nose. “Worse.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Though, I suppose some of his suspicious nature is slipping.” She exhaled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “But you didn’t ask me here to discuss that puffed-up peacock. What’s going on, Verity?” Her dark head tilted to the side. “I heard about your husband.”

  “Yes. But this isn’t about him,” I hastened to say, not wanting to discuss Sidney. “I must speak with C. Where is he?”

  Her eyes followed a man whose gaze lingered on us overlong as he strolled toward the entrance to the train station. “You know I can’t tell you that.” Her gaze searched mine. “Even though I know you must have good reason to ask.”

  “Then can you tell me when he returns? Surely that’s not sensitive information.”

  She frowned. “You’re not going to like the answer. He’s gone for almost another fortnight. I don’t expect to see him until at least the twenty-first, and that’s assuming he returns early. You know what a workhorse he is.”

  I closed my eyes, fighting disappointment and frustration.

  “What is it? Why are you so desperate to talk to him?”

  I laced my arm with hers and guided our steps around the monument, feeling we’d stood immobile too long. We were attracting attention. “Because I think there’s been a security breach.”

  Her eyes registered alarm. “What do you mean?”

  I wanted to tell her more, to enlist her help, but doing so might constitute a security breach itself. It was true what I’d said. Since I was no longer a member of the Secret Service, Major Davis couldn’t order me about. But I had signed the Official Secrets Act, and that did not lose effect simply because one was demobilized. I’d already risked much by speaking to George about it, even though he was part of 40 OB. But at least I’d spoken to him before Major Davis had made his threats. With Max being an earl with contacts at the War Office, and Sidney a war hero, Major Davis wouldn’t dare to touch either of them or me for sharing information with them.

  In any case, there was little Kathleen could do to help me. It was more important that she remain at her position close to C, so that should I have need of her later she would still be there. However, I decided to risk one question.

  “I can’t reveal the details. Not like this. But I do need to know one thing if possible. Have you ever seen or heard the name Madame Zozza or Mona Kertle mentioned?”

  Kathleen had a mind like a steel trap. She never forgot a name. It was how she’d first come to C’s attention during the war and been promoted to one of his assistants.

  She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think . . . wait! Isn’t she that famous medium? I’ve seen her name mentioned in the papers.”

  “Yes.”

  Her brow furrowed and she hesitated before saying more. My nerves tautened, realizing this meant she’d thought of something.

  “I’ve never heard either name mentioned in the office, but . . . I overheard some talk of a Spiritualist a few weeks back. Something about someone paying her a visit. I’m afraid I didn’t listen very closely.”

  I patted her arm where it still lay clasped with mine. “I understand.” Sometimes listening to others’ conversations at the service only got you in trouble for hearing things you shouldn’t have. “Thank you for telling me. I won’t ask anything more of you. Except, will you let C know I came to see him? Davis promised he would, but I don’t trust him.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  We ceased our stroll and I gazed into her brilliant green eyes. Her cheeks had regained some much-needed color and fullness. I’m not sure I’d ever seen her looking better. Particularly given how wan and drawn she’d been at the end of the war, the loss of her fiancé and father having taken a terrible toll on her. “It is good to see you,” I remarked.

  She smiled. “You, too.” Then she leaned in to buss my cheek. “One of these days we shall find time to truly catch up.” Her eyes glinted. “And you can tell me all about the reappearance of that dashing husband of yours.”

  I gave a little laugh. “Yes. Let’s.”

  I crossed the street toward St. Martin-in-the-Fields, and then paused to watch Kathleen’s retreating form until it disappeared around the corner. When no one moved to follow her, I strolled on past the church and up toward Trafalgar Square. I could have easily hailed a taxicab, but I wanted time to puzzle out the morning’s developments.

  It was true. Major Davis and I had always had a contentious relationship. His high-handed treatment was business as usual, but his outright dismissal of my concerns was unusual. In the past, he had always been keen to catch security violators, and almost eager to prove others untrustworthy. Perhaps he’d already been aware of the matter I’d brought to his attention. I supposed that could explain my swift removal. But even if that was correct, I would have expected him to mine me for more information. He’d never shown any qualms before about claiming the ideas and evidence I’d given him as his own. But this time it seemed he had been more interested in silencing me.

  Kathleen said she’d overheard discussion of a Spiritualist, but that did not necessarily point toward Madame Zozza. With the rampant popularity of Mysticism, there were hundreds of mediums operating throughout the city. However, I was not a fan of coincidences. The fact that it had been mentioned at all made my instincts stand up and take notice.

  It seemed to me that the Secret Service had at least some level of awareness of the matter. The question was how much? And had Major Davis discouraged me from making further inquiries because there were secrets to keep hidden, or simply because he’d missed ordering me about? Was there cause for concern or not?

  Whatever the tru
th, I was not going to receive assistance from my former colleagues in the London office. At least, not until C returned. I could only hope George and Max were able to uncover something of use. Because someone had certainly wanted me to believe Emilie was dead, and to unearth this secret of hers, whatever it was. I only wished I knew what they’d been referring to.

  I’d started to ruminate on the medium’s particular choice of the word “unearth” when suddenly the back of my neck began to tingle. During the war, I’d learned quickly never to dismiss such a sensation. I scanned the street around me, never breaking my stride as I searched the faces of passersby. I couldn’t help but note the two men wearing copper masks, though neither of them seemed to pay me the slightest attention. Another man fiddled with a camera, but he didn’t seem to be pursuing me for a photograph.

  When the feeling did not abate, I paused before a shop with large glass windows. The Pall Mall store sold leather goods for men, and I feigned interest in a pair of shoes all the while scanning the reflection for the sight of a suspicious or familiar face.

  In the far corner, I saw a man swerve almost erratically toward the doorway to a pub and disappear inside. I couldn’t tell whether this meant this would not be his first drink of the day, or he had been following me. Regardless, I made note of what little I’d seen of his appearance and his dull gray suit in the glass’s reflection.

  CHAPTER 9

  “ You are looking much too staid and respectable,” I told my older brother as I leaned up to buss his cheek after surveying him from head to toe.

  Freddy grinned. “Yes, well, I suppose war and marriage will do that to a fellow.”

  “I suspect it’s more the marriage bit,” I replied as Sidney pushed my chair in for me.

  Freddy had secured us a table at the edge of the Savoy dining room near a column. The light from the chandeliers sparkled off the crystal and silver and glinted on the jewels adorning the fashionably dressed patrons. As usual at this hour, the restaurant was crowded, though the band had not yet begun to play any music to dance to, only a soft melody to accompany the din of voices and clink of silverware.