“And the journey was uneventful?”
“Very much so.”
Evelyn finished emptying the bag and surveyed the goodies that Bill had picked up. There was a loaf bread, cheese, a bottle of milk, some eggs, and a pack of sausages. He’d also included some tea and a package of biscuits.
“This is lovely, Bill. Thank you!”
“It will do for a day or two,” he said with a nod. “Tomorrow you’ll come to Broadway for a full debriefing. Montclair wants to have dinner with you tomorrow night. You should be able to return to your station in Scotland the following day, barring any unforeseen delays. I thought this would be enough to get you through, but of course if you need anything else, you can go out to the shops. I thought you’d be tired today.”
Evelyn turned to look at him. “You’re a good man, Mr. Buckley. I am tired, and this just what I needed.”
He smiled faintly. “I can hardly let one of my best agents go hungry on her first night back in London, can I?” he asked, sitting back and crossing his legs. “Marguerite would have my head!”
“How is she?” She turned to get a teapot and two cups and saucers as the kettle began to whistle. “Is she still in France?”
“Yes. She’s getting the house ready to close. She’s decided to come back to England next month for Christmas and, given the increased tensions, she’ll be remaining in England. If it is still safe to travel, she may go back to Paris for a short trip in the spring, but I don’t think it will remain safe for long. The Germans will make a move towards France soon.”
“Will she stay in London or go to your estate? It’s in Hertfordshire, isn’t it?”
“Yes. She’ll go to the estate, although how long I can keep her there, I don’t know,” he said with a short laugh. “You know how restless she gets.”
“My mother would enjoy seeing her,” Evelyn said over her shoulder as she fixed the tea. “She’s welcome to visit Ainsworth Manor at any time, I’m sure.”
“And she will. We’re coming for Christmas, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh good! I was hoping that would be the case.” Evelyn lifted the kettle with a towel and poured boiling water into the teapot. “This first Christmas without Dad will be hard. I think it will help to retain as many of the traditions as we can.”
“That’s what your mother said,” Bill said, amused. “I’ve arranged for you take two-days leave. You’ll have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I couldn’t do more, I’m afraid.”
Evelyn turned to carry the teapot over to the table.
“I understand. Thank you! I hope Rob can get away, and...” She stopped abruptly and turned to get the cups.
“And?” Bill prompted when she didn’t continue.
“It’s nothing.” She set the cups down and turned to grab the packet of biscuits off the counter. “Just someone Rob flies with. There was talk that he might join us for Christmas.”
Bill raised an eyebrow and watched as she set a bowl of sugar on table.
“Oh? Does this someone have a name?”
Evelyn grabbed the bottle of milk and turned to seat herself across from him.
“Lacey,” she said, reaching for his cup. “Miles Lacey. Do you take milk?”
“Yes, thank you.” Bill studied her face interestedly. “You look rather flushed. Are you quite all right?”
She poured milk into his cup and handed it to him. “Do I? How strange. It must be the heat from the water. I’m fine.”
Bill spooned some sugar into his cup, his lips twitching.
“You know, for someone who just recently learned to lie, you’re developing a real talent for it,” he murmured. Then, after a second, “Tell me about Vladimir Lyakhov,” he said, changing the subject. “Did you meet with him?”
“Yes.” Evelyn poured tea into his cup then her own. “He’s not what I expected. He’s really quite interesting, if a little brusque. I’m still not sure why he refuses to deal with anyone but myself, but he gave me the microfilm. I haven’t looked to see what’s on it.”
She got up and left the kitchen, coming back a moment later with a small traveling case. Bill watched as she opened it and lifted out the insert.
“That’s how you carried it back?” he asked, leaning forward to examine the case more closely. “That’s very good. Did you make this yourself, or did they give it to you in Scotland?”
“A bit of both, actually. The case is mine. One of the instructors there was able to show me how to modify it.” Evelyn lifted out the microfilm and the tightly wound roll of paper that Risto Niva had handed over. “This is the microfilm from Shustov,” she said, handing it to him. “And this is from the other Soviet agent, Risto Niva. He said that they are copies of transmissions.”
“Transmissions?” Bill glanced up from the microfilm he was examining against the light. “Transmissions from what?”
“I’ve no idea. Coded transmissions, I believe, but he never actually said.” She replaced the insert in the case and closed it, setting it aside before retaking her seat. “He says that Stalin is planning to invade Finland. He thinks it will be soon.”
Bill set down the microfilm and reached for his tea. “Did he say why?”
“He said it was in those transmissions. I read through them on the crossing from Denmark. It certainly appears that they’re planning something, but it gives no indication of where. In fact, it doesn’t even mention a country, just a code phrase. It could be anywhere.”
“Why did Niva think it was Finland?”
“Because Stalin is very unhappy that they’ve refused to concede the territory that he wants.”
Bill was quiet for a moment, drinking his tea thoughtfully.
“What were your impressions of him?” he asked suddenly. “What did you think of him?”
Evelyn thought for a moment.
“I think he’s
