Page 38 of Beloved Beast

“Yes. You are terminated. You may well be facing criminal charges under the Official Secrets Act. What you’ve done is grievous in its nature. You may well have cost lives. And you knew better.” Fred stood and left the room before he did or said something he’d regret. He vetted this woman, trusted her implicitly. And she fell for the oldest spy con in the book.

* * * *

After Billings left to fetch the owner of the flats so they could question him and show him the sketch of Caldwell, a sobbing Mrs. Travers was escorted off the premises. Fred took a moment to cool down. He decided bringing charges against her would not serve any function.

Folding his hands behind his head, Fred sat back in his office chair. He believed she was a lonely, middle-aged woman duped by a younger man. To what purpose? Not for money—it had to be for information. Which lead to the conclusion the man could be a spy.

Regardless of the anger and disappointment, a small part of him felt sorry for her. He leaned forward and jotted down a note to have her transferred to the general secretary pool after serving a lengthy suspension. The move would strip her of her security clearance. Fred was well aware Helen Travers had no other means of income. This way, she’d at least still have employment. It isn’t as if she purposely gave information. Perhaps he was growing soft.

His immediate superior questioned his wisdom for using Luke more than once, since his uncle’s physical appearance attracted attention. But Fred pointed out Luke’s record stood for itself. Now he would have to go upstairs and inform the upper echelons of this latest development. He could well guess what they would say. Get Browning out of the country now.

Shaking his head, he made the call upstairs. They could not see him until tomorrow morning. Was it urgent? The secretary asked, as she could fit him in later today. Fred paused. What if those men in the Austin Eight passed on the information to their superiors in the Abwehr about Luke? Yet Luke swears they were not followed. Damn. Damn. On impulse, he replied the meeting could wait until tomorrow morning. As he hung up the phone, a yearning to see Joan gripped him. He needed to hold her. Caution bade him not to head to his parents. Not today. He pulled the telephone toward him and dialed his parents’ number.

“Hello, Parker residence.”

Joan’s voice acted as a soothing salve to him.

“It’s Fred. How are you?”

“I am doing well, thanks for asking.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Did you wish to speak with your parents?”

“Not now. I want to talk to you. You will think me daft….”

“Why?”

“When I tell you I’ve thought of you day and night since we kissed.” All Fred could hear was the crackling of the telephone line. Damn. He moved too fast. Revealed too much.

“So have I,” she murmured. “Thinking of you, I mean. When can I see you?”

“I would drive down this minute if I could. Can this happen in short period of time? What I feel for you, I’ve never…not with any other woman. I’ve a lot to deal with, but when it’s over, I want us to get to know each other. I don’t want to see anyone but you. I don’t want to touch or kiss any other woman—but you. Maybe ever. Perhaps I am daft.”

“Oh, Fred. Then I’m daft too. I feel the same.” Her voice was rife with emotion.

The sensation rushing through him was much what falling off a cliff must feel like. His heart pounded at a furious pace. For he was falling. In love. In the middle of a war of all bloody things. “Listen. Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. I will be sending a sketch of a man who may be working for the Germans. If you see anyone who fits the description, call here right away.” He gave her the number.

“Got it. I’ll keep it close. Am I…are we all in danger?” she whispered worriedly.

“I hope not. Best we not take chances. We are going to step up the plans for seeing your sister safely out of the country. A telegram messenger will arrive in the morning. Make sure you answer the door and take the envelope. Do not let my parents know what is going on; I don’t want them to worry.” He paused. “Better tell Mother I won’t make dinner two nights from now. Tell her it’s work; she’ll understand.”

“I will. Do be careful, darling.”

His heart soared at the endearment. “I will, love. I’ll try to call again tomorrow night. Good-bye.”

They ended the call, and Fred sat at his desk deep in thought. After their emotional conversation, he was sorely tempted to drive straight to his parents’ home. But he couldn’t take the chance he might be followed. Best to leave it until he talked to his superiors. Grabbing his address book out of the drawer, he looked up the telephone number of the fisherman in Brighton he’d used before on missions. He had to make other arrangements. And fast.

* * * *

Smoking a Dunhill cigarette, Rainer Hermann stood outside the Parker residence. He was partially hidden by a cedar bush. He’d followed Frederick Parker here a month ago, was well aware Parker’s elderly parents resided in this suburban area and in this particular house.

On a whim, Rainer decided to check on the place. Imagine his surprise to see a young woman living there with the couple. Alas, she looked nothing like the female in the photograph. Was she a caretaker to the couple, a nurse? A relative, perhaps?

Deciding to investigate further, he took a room at a small inn not far from the Tudor cottage. A night or two at the local pub along with a few discrete questions should gain him any information worth ferreting out.

Earlier today, he followed the young lady from a distance as she visited the grocer and the chemist. She was obviously running errands. Perhaps she was an employee of sorts. Under the bright sun, he had a better look at her, and she most definitely was not the woman in the photograph, though she was as beautiful. Perhaps the nose was the same, the shape of the jaw, but not enough to make a family connection. And it was not enough for him to make a move, as he had to be absolutely sure of the identity of the target before eliminating them. He was nothing if not thorough.

A curtain stirred at the house across the way. Rainer flicked his cigarette to the walkway and ground it out with his boot. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he leisurely ambled away, like a young man on a causal afternoon walk.

Tomorrow he would venture to the local pub. Gather information about the Parkers and their past, and continue his hunt.