The Unlikely Spy(170)

"So," he said. "The reason I asked you to come today, Captain Vogel. Some exciting news from London."

"Oh?" Vogel said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Our source inside MI-Five has some very interesting information."

Schellenberg produced a signal flimsy with a flourish and presented it to Vogel. Reading it, Vogel thought, Remarkable, the subtlety of the manipulation. He finished and handed the flimsy across the desk to Schellenberg.

Schellenberg said, "For MI-Five to take disciplinary action against a man who is a personal friend and confidant of Winston Churchill is extraordinary. And the source is impeccable. I recruited him personally. He's not one of Canaris's flunkies. I believe it proves the information stolen by your agent was genuine, Captain Vogel."

"Yes, I believe you're right, Herr Brigadefuhrer."

"The Fuhrer needs to be told of this right away. He's meeting with the Japanese ambassador at Berchtesgaden tonight to brief him on preparations for the invasion. I'm sure he'll want to pass this along."

Vogel nodded.

"I'm leaving on a plane from Tempelhof in one hour. I'd like you to come with me and personally brief the Fuhrer. After all, it was your operation to begin with. And besides, the man has taken a liking to you. You have a very bright future, Captain Vogel."

"Thank you for the offer, Herr Brigadefuhrer, but I think you should tell the Fuhrer about the news."

"Are you certain, Captain Vogel?"

"Yes, Herr Brigadefuhrer, I'm quite certain."





62


OYSTER BAY, NEW YORK





It was the first fine day of spring--warm sunshine, a soft wind from the Sound. The day before had been cold and damp. Dorothy Lauterbach had worried that the memorial service and reception would be ruined by the cold. She made certain all the fireplaces in the house were laid with wood and ordered the caterer to have plenty of hot coffee ready for when the guests arrived. But by midmorning the sun had burned away the last of the clouds, and the island sparkled. Dorothy quickly moved the reception from the house to the lawn overlooking the Sound.

Shepherd Ramsey had brought Peter's things from London: his clothes, his books, his letters, the personal papers that the security men had not seized. Ramsey, sitting on the transport plane from London, had leafed through the letters to make certain there was no mention of the woman Peter was seeing in London before his death.

The graveside ceremony was packed. There was no body to bury, but they laid a small headstone next to Margaret's. All of Bratton's bank attended, as did most of the staff of the Northeast Bridge Company. The North Shore crowd came too--the Blakemores and the Brandenbergs, the Carlisles and the Duttons, the Robinsons and the Tetlingers. Billy stood next to Jane, and Jane leaned against Walker Hardegen. Bratton accepted the American flag from a representative of the navy. The wind tore blossoms from the trees and tossed them on the crowd like confetti.

One man stood slightly apart from the rest, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed respectfully. He was tall and thin, and his double-breasted suit of gray wool was a little too heavy for the warm spring weather.

Walker Hardegen was the only person present who recognized him. Hardegen did not know the man's real name. He always used a pseudonym that was so ridiculous Hardegen had trouble saying it without laughing.

The man was Hardegen's control officer, and the pseudonym he used was Broome.





Shepherd Ramsey carried the letter from the man in London. Dorothy and Bratton slipped into the library and read it during the reception. Dorothy read it first, hands trembling. She was older now, older and grayer. A fall on the icy steps of the Manhattan house in December had left her with a broken hip. The resulting limp had robbed her of her old physical presence. Her eyes were damp when she finished reading, but she did not cry. Dorothy always did things in moderation. She handed the letter to Bratton, who wept as he read.





Dear Billy,

It is with great sadness that I write this letter. I had the pleasure of working with your father for only a very brief period, but I found him to be one of the most remarkable men I have ever met. He was involved in one of the most vital projects of the war. Because of the requirements of security, however, there is a strong possibility you may never be told exactly what your father did.

I can tell you this--the work done by your father will save countless lives and make it possible for the people of Europe to be rid of Hitler and the Nazis once and for all. Your father truly gave his life so that others may live. He was a hero.

But nothing your father accomplished gave him as much pleasure and satisfaction as you, Billy. When your father spoke of you his face changed. His eyes brightened and he smiled, no matter how tired he might he. I was never fortunate enough to be blessed with a son. Listening to your father talk about you, I realized the depth of my misfortune.





Sincerely, Alfred Vicary





Bratton handed the letter back to Dorothy. She folded it, put it back in its envelope, and placed it in the top drawer of Bratton's desk. She went to the window and looked out.

Everyone was eating and drinking and seemed to be having a good time. Beyond the crowd she could see Billy, Jane, and Walker sitting on the grass down by the dock. Jane and Walker had become more than friends. They had started to see each other romantically, and Jane was actually talking about marriage. She thought, Wouldn't it be perfect. Billy would have a real family again.