“Have you got that door fixed yet?”
“Why’d I do that? It lends a certain charm, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s a disaster waiting to happen,” she said, watching as he shrugged into his flight jacket. “Mark my words, Fred Durton. It won’t be in a plane that you meet your Maker; it’ll be in that car!”
Chapter Seven
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Broadway Street, London
Evelyn got out of the taxi and went up the steps to the nondescript, drab building. She didn’t even glance up at it anymore. The first time she’d come here, she’d thought she was in the wrong place. Now she was a regular.
She went in and nodded to the young man behind the front desk. He nodded back and lowered his eyes to his work, dismissing her. Evelyn strode past the desk and opened a door that led down a corridor to a flight of steps, and the labyrinth that was MI6’s headquarters in London.
After glancing at her watch, she jogged lightly up the steps and smiled at the armed soldier at the top.
“Good morning, Harry,” she said cheerfully, holding out her identification card for inspection. “How are you today?”
“I’m well, Miss Ainsworth, thank you.” He nodded and looked at her card. “It’s always nice to see you. It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Two, but you already knew that,” she said in amusement. “I doubt very much gets past you at all, Harry.”
“I do my best.” He looked up and finally smiled, stepping back so that she could proceed. “Have a nice day.”
She nodded and moved down the long corridor. When she’d first visited, she’d been shown the way to Jasper Montclair’s office by a moody woman whom she’d never seen again, but Harry had been on duty then, and every day since. She honestly couldn’t image ever coming to the top of the stairs and not seeing his curly black hair. Once she’d asked Bill if the personnel ever changed in the house on Broadway. He had looked faintly shocked and replied that if the personnel ever changed, they would be in dire straights indeed.
Coming to the last door before another set of stairs, Evelyn knocked once and reached for the handle.
“Come in!”
She turned the handle and entered the large corner office, a ready smile on her face.
“Good morning, Mr. Monclair. It’s a lovely day outside.” She closed the door and turned to look at William Buckley, who had risen at her entrance. “Good morning, Bill.”
“Good morning.” He nodded to her. “Did you have a pleasant drive in?”
“I did indeed! Fantastic driving weather!”
Jasper Montclair had stood up behind his desk and, as she spoke, he moved out from behind it to come forward, holding out his hand.
“I’ve been here since five. It wasn’t as pleasant then,” he said with a laugh. “I’m glad you came. Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” She shook his hand and moved to take the chair across from Bill. “You should really get out at least for a walk.”
“A walk?” He raised his thick eyebrows and looked at her askance. “Really, my dear. This is London. We drive.”
Evelyn laughed and set her purse beside her on the chair.
“You’re wasting a gorgeous spring day,” she told him, removing her gloves. “But to each his own.”
“You’ll never convince him,” Bill told her. “He takes the car to the post office, which is right around the corner. It takes longer for his driver to pull around than it takes me to walk.”
“I’ll leave the exercise to the youth,” Jasper retorted, seating himself again. “How was France?” he asked, turning his gaze to Evelyn.
“It was very nice. Paris was lovely, but then it always is. Metz was stunning. I can’t think why I’ve never gone before.” Evelyn finished removing her gloves and laid them on her lap, smiling across the desk at the man who ruled over them all. “But I don’t suppose you care about the scenery, do you? Everything is in my report.”
“Yes, I read it. Tell me, how did you find our French associate?”
Evelyn raised her eyebrows. “She seemed the same as she was the last time I saw her, but I’ll admit that I’ve changed since then. She may have as well. Why do you ask?”
Jasper sat back in his chair and gazed at her pensively for a long moment. His bushy eyebrows were pulled over his eyes, giving him the look of an unsettled bulldog.
“Bill has shared with you the state of our networks in Europe, yes?”
Evelyn swallowed and glanced at her immediate boss. He shrugged.
“Yes.”
“We’re trying to rebuild them as quickly as we can but, as I’m sure you understand, we have to be necessarily cautious in our recruitment of agents. The Nazis know we’re trying to rebuild, and they will be trying to insert people into any new system that we form. It’s even more imperative now that we protect and maintain the networks we have left.”
“Are you concerned that she might be turned by the Germans?” Evelyn asked. “I think that a very remote possibility. She’s doing everything she can to pass on information about them to the outlets where she thinks it will cause the most damage.”
“Yes, thank God. Deuxième Bureau is in something of a muddle at the moment, or so I’m told. They’re still gathering intelligence from their agents, but how that information is being disseminated is rather disjointed.”
“I’ve received the impression that Paul Reynaud is sympathetic to the efforts of the intelligence community,” she said slowly, a frown knitting her brow. “Is that not the case? I thought him taking over as Prime Minister would be beneficial to the war effort.”
“Yes, yes, he is. In fact, he’s already put forth some rather bold ideas for collaboration between Britain and France that show he is serious about fighting this war, and winning at all costs. But he’s kept many members of the old cabinet in positions that make it difficult to get the right people to listen
