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PERSONNEL STOP FERTIG.

4.

CROYDON AIRFIELD LONDON, ENGLAND 14 FEBRUARY 1943-ST. VALENTINE'S DAY "I think the thing to do with Charity Hoche, Helene," Lt. Colonel Stevens had said to Helene Dancy earlier that morning, "is for you to meet her at the airport, run her past the officer's sales store, get her into uniform, and take her out to Whitbey House. She is a young lady who attracts a great deal of attention, and to the extent we can, I think we ought to keep her out of sight."

Colonel Stevens had then decided that it would be best to put Charity Hoche into the uniform of a WAC first lieutenant.

"We'll think about actually getting her a commission," Stevens had said. "In the long run, that might be the thing to do. But for the short run, anyway, I think it makes more sense than putting her into a civilian specialist's uniform. That attracts attention."

The first impression Capt. Helene B. Dancy had of Miss Charity Hoche was not particularly favorable.

Miss Hoche descended the stairway from the door of the ATC C-54, "the Washington Courier," wearing the uniform of a War Department civilian, with the uniform cap perched perkily atop a ma.s.s of long golden hair. Neither Capt. Dancy nor Colonel Stevens had expected that Miss Charity Hoche would arrive in England in a civilian specialist's uniform.

She also managed to display a good deal of shapely thigh and lace-hemmed black petticoat as she came daintily down the stairs. She wore the gabardine uniform topcoat over her shoulders.

Two officers (one of them, in Capt. Dancy's opinion, old enough to know better) hovered solicitously around her. They were rewarded for their efforts with a radiant display of perfect white teeth between lips that Capt. Dancy thought had entirely too much lipstick of a too dazzling shade.

A double-decker London bus had been driven onto the field to transport the arriving pa.s.sengers to SHAEF Billeting. There they would be given a two-hour orientation lecture, known as the "Be Kind to Our English Cousins speech." The trouble with Americans, in the opinion of many Englishmen, was that they were "overpaid, overs.e.xed, and over here."

The purpose of the orientation lecture was to remind the newly arrived Americans that England had been at war for more than three years; that there was a "ration scheme" for practically everything the English needed to live; and that the British quite naturally resented the relative luxury in which the American taxpayer was supporting its citizens in the United Kingdom.

The lecture, Capt. Dancy decided, seemed to have been prepared with Miss Charity Hoche in mind. But she would not hear it.

Capt. Dancy showed her identification card to the guard and walked out of the terminal building and intercepted Charity Hoche as she was being escorted to the bus.

"Miss Hoche?" she said. "I'm Capt. Dancy. Will you come with me, please?"

The pudgy lieutenant colonel who was carrying Charity's makeup kit looked crushed.

Capt. Dancy happened to meet Charity Hoche's eyes and found herself being examined very carefully by very intelligent eyes.

"My luggage?" Charity asked.

"It'll be taken care of," Capt. Dancy said.

Charity said good-bye to the two officers and followed Capt. Dancy into the terminal, then to the Ford staff car.

"Where are we going?" Charity asked when she was in the car, and then, without waiting for a reply, "Is it hard to drive one of our cars on the wrong side of the road?"

"The 'other' side of the road is the way I think of it," Capt. Dancy said. "And the answer is 'no, you have to be careful, but you soon get used to it.' "

"How did I get off on the wrong foot with you so soon, Captain?" Charity challenged.

Because you're young and spectacularly beautiful and look and act as if a serious thought and a cold drink of water would kill you.

"If I gave that impression, Miss Hoche, I'm sorry," Capt. Dancy said. "Where we're going is to my billet. There, we're going to put your hair up, take some of that makeup off, and do whatever else is necessary to make you credible as a WAC officer."

Charity Hoche seemed oblivious to the reproof.

"Captain Dougla.s.s thought you might want to put me in a WAC uniform, but he wasn't sure. I've got the insignia and AGO card of a first lieutenant in my purse."

Dancy looked at her in surprise.

"So, all we'll have to do, then," Charity said sweetly, "is pin on the insignia, put my hair up, and take some of the makeup off, right?"

She gave Capt. Dancy a dazzling smile.

"But before we do that," Charity went on, just as sweetly, "I think we should go by Berkeley Square. Not only do I have three 'Eyes Only' for Mr. Bruce, but I have crossed the Atlantic with a Colt 'Banker's Special' hanging from my bra strap. It hurts like h.e.l.l, and I want to get rid of it."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned," Capt. Helene Dancy said.

"Won't we all be, sooner or later?" Charity asked.

"Apparently, I was wrong about you," Capt. Dancy said.

"I don't know about that," Charity said, "but you were wrong about Colonel Stevens. You should have known he wouldn't have let me come over here if I was a complete fool."

5.

OSS LONDON STATION BERKELEY SQUARE LONDON, ENGLAND 1610 HOURS 14 FEBRUARY 1943.

David Bruce, Chief of London Station, was surprised to sense his office door being quietly opened, and when he looked up, to see the face of Capt. Helene Dancy waiting to catch his attention.

"Sorry to disturb you, Sir," Capt. Dancy said.

Bruce's eyebrows rose in question.

"Miss Hoche is here," Capt. Dancy said.

Bruce frowned. He didn't want to see Charity Hoche. He wanted, in fact, to nip in the bud any idea of hers that she would enjoy with him the same close personal relationship she was supposed to have with Bill Donovan.

He had directed that Helene Dancy pick the girl up at Croydon and take her directly to Whitbey House in one of the station's 1941 olive-drab Ford staff cars. En route, Helene was supposed to relay his orders to her to make herself useful wherever Lieutenant Robert Jamison felt she would fit in.

Jamison was Adjutant of Whitbey House Station. His job had been to relieve Canidy of as much of the administrative burden as he could. He had done a good job, but not only was he admittedly unhappy with what he called his chief clerk's role, but he was also qualified, in Bruce's opinion, to a.s.sume greater operational responsibility.

Jamison wanted to go operational, which was different from a.s.suming greater operational responsibility.

Bruce had already decided that was out of the question, not because Jamison couldn't do it but because he knew too much for the OSS to risk having him captured. With Canidy the exception that proved the rule, OSS personnel privy to OSS plans and intentions in more than one-their own-case were not permitted to go operational.

No attempt had been made to brief Jamison on any particular operation, but he did the paperwork, and he was as bright as a new dime. There was no question in David Bruce's mind that Jamison knew far too much about too many things to send him off somewhere where he was likely to find himself being interrogated by the Sicherheitsdienst.

But Bruce had always thought there were areas where Jamison's intelligence and other talents could be put to better use than requisitioning sheets and towels and keeping abreast of the paperwork. Canidy had been giving him jobs of greater importance than these. And he had accomplished them admirably.

Jamison had handled, for example, and handled well, a project in connection with "Operation Aphrodite": There was only one way to test the practicality of the drone bomber project, and that was by setting up a target and trying to blow it up with an explosives-laden, radio-controlled B-17. This, of course, had to be done with as much secrecy as possible, so when they finally flew the flying bombs against the German submarine pens, they would have the necessary element of surprise.

Jamison had scoured the maps of the United Kingdom until he found a lonely bay in Scotland that could be used as a target range. It had required coordination with the English, the local Scottish government, the U.S. Army (from whom he had borrowed a detachment of Engineers to build a target, a mock-up of the entrance to the Saint-Lazare submarine pens), and the U.S. Navy (who had provided ships to clear the area, and a yard boat to be available to pluck "Operation Aphrodite" aviators from the water, if that should prove necessary).

And Jamison had carried this responsibility (which was, of course, in addition to his "chief clerk" duties) with a skill, imagination, and discretion that had pleased Bruce. Jamison had come up with a different cover story for each set of outsiders involved, with just enough truth in each to make it credible, and far enough from the real truth to keep the secret of what was really going on away from German agents.

When the first Personal-Eyes Only message from Colonel William J. Donovan regarding Miss Charity Hoche had come to Berkeley Square asking Ed Stevens if he could find useful work for her, Bruce had seen in it a solution to the problem of more efficient utilization of the talents of First Lieutenant Robert Jamison. She would be a.s.signed first as Jamison's a.s.sistant. There she would do such things as learn how to requisition flour to bake bread-or a similar-looking white powder that had extraordinary explosive power when detonated, say, against the supports of a bridge in France or Yugoslavia.

The sooner she could take the paperwork burden from Bob Jamison's shoulders, the sooner Jamison could be put to work doing other, more important things.

"Why is she here?" Bruce asked. There was more than a hint of displeasure, even reproof in his voice.

"She has three Eyes Only for you," Captain Dancy said.

"Oh?" Bruce was surprised that Charity Hoche had been put to work as a courier. Couriers were most often officers traveling to Europe for a.s.signment, or sometimes warrant officers whose duty it was to travel around the world, providing armed, personal guard to doc.u.ments that could not be trusted to the mail pouches.

"Send her in, please," Bruce said.

"She's in the ladies' room," Capt. Dancy said, then added, "taking off her pistol."

Charity Hoche appeared a minute later. She had three letter-size envelopes in her right hand and a Colt "Banker's Special" .38 Special revolver in her left.

She was stunning. She exuded, David Bruce thought personally, a subtle s.e.xuality, even a sort of refined lewdness that would make an archbishop tend to forget his vows. Professionally, David Bruce had wondered if all of his happy plans to have this young woman relieve Jamison of his administrative ch.o.r.es might be shot out of the water by her blatant s.e.x appeal.

Bruce had been amused to learn that the Army had officially officially approved the policy of inserting slides of attractive and scantily attired or nude young women into slide trays containing other slides demonstrating the proper technique of waterproofing a truck or a.s.sembling a pontoon bridge. It caught the men's attention, woke them up, got the blood flowing. approved the policy of inserting slides of attractive and scantily attired or nude young women into slide trays containing other slides demonstrating the proper technique of waterproofing a truck or a.s.sembling a pontoon bridge. It caught the men's attention, woke them up, got the blood flowing.

Bruce was genuinely concerned about the degree to which Charity Hoche's simple presence among the men in training and awaiting a.s.signment at Whitbey House would catch the men's attention. There were some women at Whitbey House, and some local women, but not nearly enough of the opposite s.e.x to go around.

Miss Charity Hoche, Bruce suspected, would wake them up and get their blood flowing to an undesirable degree.

"Mr. Bruce," Charity said in a low and s.e.xy voice, "I'm Charity Hoche. Daddy said when I saw you to give you his best regards."

She thrust the envelopes at him. They were of lightweight, airmail paper, double enveloped, the outer envelopes stamped TOP SECRET.

They were warm to the touch. After a moment, he figured that out. She had been carrying them on her person. In her girdle, specifically; there was no other place where they could have been carried unfolded. It made sense, of course, but there was still something unsettling about it.

Bruce forced his thoughts from Charity's girdle to the pistol. The way she was holding it-upside down, her finger nowhere near the trigger, not waving it around, the muzzle pointed safely toward the floor-showed that she was quite at home with firearms. But one did not expect to see a snub-nosed revolver in the soft white hands of a long-haired blonde with a face that brought to mind candlelight dinners.

Charity Hoche saw the surprise in his eyes. She flashed Bruce a dazzling smile.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Mr. Bruce," she said. "But I . . . I can't tell you where I've had the d.a.m.ned thing for the last thirty-six hours . . . just had to get it out of there. I'm scarred for life."

David Bruce had been a little chagrined at how eagerly his mind considered in glorious Technicolor the various places Miss Hoche might have had the pistol concealed on her person for the past thirty-six hours.

"Not at all," David Bruce said, somewhat lamely.

Charity handed him next three Receipt for Cla.s.sified Top Secret Doc.u.ments forms, and watched as he compared the numbers of the forms with the numbers on the outer envelopes, then signed them. When he gave them back to her, she folded them into a small wad and stuffed them inside her uniform blouse. He averted his eyes in a gentlemanly fashion as she did this.

"Let me take a quick look at these," David Bruce said, furious with himself for acting like a high-school boy before this stunning young woman. "And then we'll have a little chat."

"Yes, Sir," said Charity Hoche.

''Helene," Bruce heard himself say, "why don't you get us some coffee?"

She went to get the coffee, but he saw the look on her face and reminded himself again that although she was functioning as his secretary, she was a commissioned officer of the United States Army, and aware that captains are not sent to fetch coffee.

The first of the three Personal-Eyes Only messages from the Director of the Office of Strategic Services dealt with logistic matters. He glanced at it, then opened the second. That dealt with the suspicions held by the FBI that a technical sergeant recruited for the OSS (and, he recalled from a remote portion of his memory, about to finish training at Whitbey House) had uncomfortably close connections with the Communist Party, USA. As he replaced that one in its envelope, he thought he would have to read that one very carefully indeed. Then he opened the third Eyes Only. It dealt with Miss Charity Hoche: Dear David:While I would suggest that we leave intact the in-house gossip that Charity Hoche has been sent to you because she batted her eyes at Uncle Bill, and the old softie gave in, the truth of the matter is something else.Beneath the very attractive facade is an unusually bright (genius-level IQ) young woman with a master's degree in political science earned in four years, summa c.u.m laude. As this came out, first as Charity proved far more useful working at the house on Q Street than frankly I thought she would be, and then officially, from a belatedly administered background investigation, Pete Dougla.s.s and I began to involve her in more and more higher-level operations.The last time I was in England, I brought Ed Stevens into one such operation, together with a direct order that he was not to tell you I had done so. I should not have to tell you the decision to keep you out of this was not in any way a reflection on you. I will tell you that it is the only operation currently under way in Europe to which you are not fully privy, and that those, including Charity, who are privy to it are a very small number of people personally approved by the President.And neither Ed nor Charity is privy to all the details. I brought Ed into it, with the President's permission, because the operation is of such importance that nothing else being done can be permitted to interfere with it. He was told what he has been told solely so that he can make sure nothing that happens over there will get in the way. His orders are to reason with you, first, to see if he can talk you out of whatever it is you plan to do that might get in the way, and, failing that, to communicate directly with either myself or Pete Dougla.s.s. We would then, without explanation, cancel the planned operation. We have done that twice.Charity was brought into it, again with Franklin Roosevelt's specific permission, for the simple reason that this operation's in-house administration cannot be conducted through our normal channels, as secure as we believe them to be. Pete and I needed, in other words, a clerk-typist and file clerk with not only a Top Secret Presidential clearance, but one with the intellectual ability to comprehend the implications of the project, and to deal with the people involved.It was only, frankly, after I pointed out to the President that none of the other people he proposed, in particular one Navy captain of our mutual acquaintance, to a.s.sume responsibility for in-house administration and liaison for this project could type or file, and that adding the Navy captain to the cleared list would leave us no better off than we then were, that he approved adding Charity to the list of those cleared for the project.That situation has now changed, as a result of growth in the project. We now have the Navy captain, and he has an administrative staff of two. And as both the project, and your operations, have grown, so has the possibility that you will undertake something that could get in the way, and that it would somehow slip past Ed Stevens's attention.We cannot take that risk. My recommended solution to the problem was what I thought to be the obvious one, to add your name to the list. Unfortunately, I made it hours after the President had become aware that, on his own, one individual on the list had made his deputy privy to some details of the project.Roosevelt was enraged . . . at the time I didn't know why . . . at my suggestion that we add "every Tom, d.i.c.k, and Harry" to the list, and, at my persuasive best, when I told him what I considered to be the risk of something slipping past Ed Stevens in London, all I could get from him was permission to send someone already on the list over there to keep that from happening.That boiled down to one of the Navy captain's men, a commissioned warrant officer, absolutely trustworthy, but a sailor to the core, or Charity.My decision is to send you Charity. On my authority, she has the presumed Need-to-Know anything concerned with any of your projects, to the same degree as Ed Stevens. I have instructed her, should something come to her attention that she feels has missed Ed's, to first bring it to his attention, and then to yours, and finally, if it comes to this, to communicate directly with Pete Dougla.s.s or me.How you arrange for this is of course up to you, and I don't think I have to tell you this project review function of hers is to go no further than you or Ed.I am, of course, David, uncomfortable with keeping you in the dark, and can only hope that you will forgo judgment until the time when I can tell you what's been going on; when, I really believe, you will understand why all this has been necessary.You may have noticed the strikeovers and other symptoms of amateur typing. This is because neither Miss Broyle, nor even the ever-faithful Chief Ellis, are in on this either, and this has been writ by hand byYour old friend,Wild Bill David Bruce recognized that, despite Wild Bill Donovan's liberally dispensed soft soap, his reaction to learning that the President of the United States, an old friend, had decided there were some secrets with which he could not be trusted was mixed hurt and anger.

And he realized he was hurt and angered by learning that Ed Stevens, of whom he was very fond and whom he considered a true friend, had been involved in a months-long deception.

And he realized that he was humiliated to learn that while he couldn't be trusted with this great G.o.dd.a.m.ned secret, whatever it was, the long-haired blonde who had crossed the Atlantic with Top Secret-Personal-Eyes Only doc.u.ments in her girdle enjoyed the confidence of the President. And Donovan.

Bruce was a man of great will. He forced the anger and humiliation down, succeeding after a long moment in convincing himself that the President must have his reasons, and that it was his duty not to question his judgment.

Capt. Helene Dancy entered the office with three cups of coffee and coffee accoutrements on a tray.

"Miss Hoche," David Bruce said, "I presume you are familiar with the Eyes Only that deals with you?"

"In general terms, Sir," Charity Hoche said. "I haven't read it. I've read the other two."

"I think you should read it," Bruce said, and handed it to her. He heard the sound of his voice, and told himself to be careful. He was still acting emotionally.

He looked at Helene Dancy and saw in her eyes that she sensed that something extraordinary was going on. He looked again at Charity Hoche as she read Donovan's letter. Twice, her eyebrows went up, apparently in surprise.

Then she looked at him, and met his eyes.

"Captain Dancy," Bruce said, "would you ask Colonel Stevens to come in, please?"

"Yes, Sir," Helene Dancy said. "Would you like me to log those Eyes Onlys in?"

Meaning, of course, Bruce thought, Bruce thought, that your curiosity is aroused and that you'll get a quick look at them between here and the safe. that your curiosity is aroused and that you'll get a quick look at them between here and the safe.

"You can take these two, Helene," Bruce said, looking at Charity Hoche. "I'm not sure about the third."

"I don't mean to be forward, Sir," Charity Hoche said, "but I think it would be better if Captain Dancy saw that letter."

Bruce handed it over. He saw that Charity Hoche was watching Helene Dancy's face as carefully as he was for her reaction. And they were both disappointed. Her face showed no reaction. She did look at Charity, however, as she folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope.

"May I make a suggestion?" Capt. Dancy asked.