“Roxy, it’s all a game. Guardian saw us through some tough times. Now we’re supposed to be almost adults. We’ll survive. Our parents did.”
“That’s what worries me, Susan. Theirs was a different world than ours. Besides, it is no comfort to think of myself in my mother’s shoes ... or my father’s shoes, for that matter.”
Susan tried to make light of their common dilemma. She seemed so strong and self-assured, yet she was the first to fail big. She blew her brains out with her father’s shotgun on a summer’s evening. She left no diary to explain her distress. Roxy was interviewed about her friend, but she had nothing meaningful to say. She pondered the courage that it must have taken for Susan to place that shotgun under her jaw and jimmy the trigger without changing the aim. Susan’s burial was the first formal occasion where the other eleven, Roxy included, came together in tears.
Not long after, Candy went missing on a trek along the Appalachian Trail. A national search was conducted, and Guardian went frantic trying to find her. He located her after three weeks of searching. She had been torn apart and eaten by a mountain lion. Her head was in the she-cat’s lair on a mountainside. Again, her friends gathered at her grave to bid her soul adieu. Roxy spent a week in a dream state being mauled and devoured by a mountain lion. That psychic ordeal did not bring her friend back to life. Roxy decided it would be unwise to hike off the main trails, but trailblazing was what she and her friends were famous for. Why change character now because of a chance event? What were the odds of that happening even once?
As Roxy felt the riptide pull at her body, her hair floating free in all directions, her arms incapable of hauling her out of the runnel that inexorably ran to deeper waters, she thought about Darcy the huntress and Campbell the forester. They were thriving somewhere, impervious to the slings and arrows of fate. Roxy’s mind inquired why she should dream of such things while sleeping in the bed of a shelter so close to her hometown. Her deduction was narcolepsy. Wasn’t that supposed to happen when your brain required oxygen while underwater? She had felt that many times before, but this time, it was somehow urgent, even insistent. Roxy thought about calling Guardian for a rescue, but what was the use? He had already saved her and brought her to a safe harbor. Why should she complain?
WHEN ROXY TOOK ONE last breath, her lungs filled with saltwater. She felt the seaweed tangle around her. She was lost.
Roxy knew she had drowned, but she came to in the Intensive Care Unit of a South Carolina hospital. A woman sat in a chair by her bed and sat straight up when the patient’s signs of life were apparent.
The young woman who had been named Roxy heard the woman mumble, “Canasta, darling. Can you hear me?”
“Where am I?” the reviving woman asked.
Another woman, who looked similar to the guardian who had assigned her answered, “It is 1936, and the National Socialists are raising Germany from the privations caused by their defeat in the World War. Cruel reparations demanded by France have gone too far, but the German people are resilient. The Third Reich is now being heralded in the world press as a miracle, whose showcase is to be the International Olympic Games.
“The nation’s bombastic, bloviating leader Adolf Hitler has global ambitions for his people. He has made this clear in his work Mein Kampf. On the surface, he has proclaimed that Germany is a model nation. Underneath this facade, the Führer or ‘Supreme Leader’ is making all preparations for winning a second world war.
“As part of Hitler’s grand plan for world domination, port cities worldwide are being actively targeted by German naval intelligence for espionage, among them Port Charleston. You are Canasta, and the woman beside you is your mother. She only knows that you will play a role in the salvation of your country. She knows nothing about your time traveling. When she calls upon you, Canasta, you must hearken and do what she needs you to do, for she is the Lady Charleston, who has preserved her port for us through many wars and tribulations over seven generations of daughters born to heroine mothers. She is not omniscient, but she is prescient. She has fulfilled her role as her ancestors have done ... and will pass her role down through her descendants, including you.”
IN THE STUDY OF HER magnificent waterfront estate, Lady Charleston was painfully aware of the German threat. I’ve received reliable intelligence that German agents are harboring in my city. Yet the situation is nearly impossible. My past trammels me. I have no way to act as the super-heroine Lady Charleston without breaking a trust that has kept my husband and me alive and out of prison.
For one thing, the mayor and district attorney are on the Nazis’ secret payroll, and the national mood doesn’t favor exposing people who’ve been taking Hitler’s bribes. Many other Americans at high levels are also on the Nazis’ payroll. In fact, America is deeply divided as to how to regard Germany. The pro-German faction favors a close relationship. The opposing faction, supported by global socialist interests, is decidedly pessimistic about Hitler’s motives and counsels caution. Further, German-American friendship groups flourish in every state of the USA. These “goodwill” organizations are natural breeding grounds for the operations of deep-penetration agents, who, upon command, will orchestrate sabotage and mayhem within America in the event of war.
I’ve kept abreast of the alarming propaganda coming from Germany as well as the evidence of German spies in America. My husband’s contacts in the district attorney’s office give us situational awareness about our city, and we’ve continued to monitor—at a safe distance—the complex, criminal activities of known gangs here in Port Charleston.
Her husband entered her study and interrupted her reverie. “Let’s review the bidding. Shall we?”
She nodded in acquiescence.
“We know a den of five spies has been working in the Docks under cover of a ship-chandler business. Their laundering money for criminal gangs is the tip of a nasty iceberg. Where criminals and spies share common interests, corrupt law enforcement is unable to deal with either. The mayor and DA aren’t going to cut off their own illegal earnings for patriotism. Besides, America is now so committed to a policy of pacifism that military officers have to wear civilian clothing rather than their uniforms to work.”
Lady Charleston replied, “We know what’s necessary ... a superhero or heroine. However, we’re both in enforced retirement. We’re being closely watched by the local hierarchy for any sign that we may be reentering the fight. Heaven knows we need Lady Charleston again, but that’s impossible.”
“Are you sure about that? Think broadly ... and creatively, my dear!”
She saw in her husband’s eyes a special pleading. Her keen mind went over the possibilities in a flash and reached his conclusion. She gave him a hard stare and said, “You certainly can’t mean bringing our daughter into the fight? When Canasta departed Port Charleston, she made it clear she never wanted to have anything to do with our family business. Specifically, she hated stepping into my shoes as Lady Charleston. My work ... and your work supporting mine ... almost tore her apart emotionally. She doesn’t want to subject her own family to the dangers of fighting crime on a huge scale.”
He nodded. “I know all this. And I know the dangers to which we’ll be subjecting our daughter. I also know Canasta is intrepid. She would not shrink from the challenge. Besides, can you think of any better solution to our problem?”
Lady Charleston brooded on this for a moment. Then she shook her head. She examined her husband’s silhouette against the lace curtains of their living room. She observed the smoke from his pipe curling slowly to the ceiling. He had always chosen right over wrong and strength over weakness. She knew what her decision must be, but she did not know how her daughter would react.
“I’ll send Canasta a coded message via Nancy. We’ll see how she responds.”
Nancy, their Tongan maid, left Port Charleston by car carrying the encrypted message. She stood outside the Murray residence for only a moment before she was invited inside. Since the maid had known Cana
sta from birth, she and the young woman embraced. Served tea and sugar cookies, the loyal Nancy waited for Lady Charleston’s message to be decoded, read, and replied to. Canasta Murray thus received and processed the encrypted letter from her mother.
After Canasta broke the code, she read, “A den of Nazi spies has set up shop in the Docks of Port Charleston. They pose as money changers and fixers. Several of our leading crime families are using their services and protecting them in return. Even if the mayor and DA were not on the German payroll, which they certainly are, our law enforcement is powerless to deal with these spies, and national counterintelligence is ignoring ambiguous activities in minor ports.”
Canasta paused here to reflect. My mother, the former Lady Charleston, being now in retirement, cannot take care of this business by herself, but she could provide support to me, her only daughter, to do what she might have done twenty years ago.
She continued reading the decrypted message. “Canasta, my request is for a single, concerted action by you to eliminate a crooked money-laundering business that is also a threat to US national security. I’ll make my puce-and-red wardrobe available to you, but you will have to work by night to evade detection. Will you perform this service? Let Nancy carry your encoded response to me at once.”
Canasta knew she could not discuss her mission with her husband for his own safety. He would have to arrange care for their two children while she was away.
“Canasta, I won’t ask where you’re going or what you’ll be doing, but I guess you’ll be working in extreme danger, as your mother did before she and your father retired. For Heaven’s sake, take care of yourself. I’ll keep the home fires burning with our children in the meantime. I hope you won’t be making a habit of taking mysterious missions in the future.”
Once her husband had committed himself to cover her family’s obligations, Canasta encoded her response to her mother.
In view of the gravity of the need, I agree to take the assignment as a “one-off,” though I formerly vowed not to become entangled in your heroic life. Once I accomplish this mission, though, I shall return home to my family. Afterward, I will never come back to Port Charleston or make myself available to help you again. I will see you in two days. Will you please make up the bed in the attic for me?
Nancy returned to Port Charleston. She delivered Canasta’s message to Lady Charleston, who was delighted. Then she resumed her duties. She knew nothing about the contents of the messages that she had passed between mother and daughter. As in the old days, she could be trusted for her discretion.
Canasta Murray returned covertly to Port Charleston disguised as a prim, bespectacled private secretary for her mother’s husband, the former district attorney.
She reasoned, No one will recognize me because I left the city ages ago. My story for public consumption will be that I will lodge in the spare attic room of the family’s estate on Hopwood Street while editing the great man’s memoirs, a task that ordinarily should take a week or two. Since my father’s memoirs have already been prepared and edited by my mother, I’ll really be reviewing my parents’ intelligence about the spies in the Docks and providing additional information as I glean it through my own nocturnal adventures.
WHEN SHE ARRIVED AT her destination, Nancy and her parents met her at the door. Nancy showed her to her attic room, where her mother had laid out Lady Charleston’s signature costume and a sewing kit on the freshly-made bed.
Canasta wasted no time altering Lady Charleston’s signature costume to fit herself. After reviewing the intelligence and discussing it with her mother and father, she devised a plan to invade the chandler’s office in the Docks.
Lady Charleston knew a secret way under the buildings, up a riser, and down through an opening in the building’s roof. She would be safe in her passage, provided that she first unscrewed the dim street light so detection would be difficult, if not impossible.
At midnight, dressed like Lady Charleston and using her mother’s instructions, Canasta had no trouble finding the chandler’s office, picking the door lock, and, once inside, cracking the code of the enormous safe. She took stock.
As we anticipated, the safe is full of goodies, like codes and ciphers, encoded lists of payments to corrupt officials and recruited agents, a calendar of events, gold coins, and nautical charts marked with places for rendezvous at sea. A crystal radio with a telegraphic key is also in the office proper.
For now, I’ll concentrate on making a comprehensive list of the contents of the safe. This painstaking work will take about two hours. I’ll then copy the list of payments from the payments book and the calendar entries the spies have made for the next two months. That should take an additional hour.
At four in the morning., Canasta secured the safe and the office, taking care that everything was back where it had lain before she searched the place. She then stealthily returned to her parents’ home, where her mother was waiting patiently. Briefly, she recapped her findings for Lady Charleston. She delivered what she had gleaned about the contents of the safe. Then she went to the attic room, took off her costume, and collapsed in bed.
At eleven in the morning., Nancy served Canasta breakfast on the small table near the door. The maid did not ask what the young woman had done during her nocturnal wanderings. Later, in the study, Canasta spent two hours discussing her findings with her parents. After scanning the list of contents of the safe, her mother made suggestions about her future priorities.
“Your first priority is to copy the codebooks letter by letter. That will make any encrypted messages transparent as long as the codebooks remained valid. Your second priority will be to copy all lists and entries with names, even if they cannot be deciphered.”
“Mother, the local monetary pay-offs are listed on the calendar I found in the safe. All payments are delivered in envelopes of cash between nine and ten o’clock at night. I can decrypt the names of the payees with the one-time pad the spies use to encrypt them. To test this, I discovered the mayor’s name. He’s down for receiving one thousand dollars each week. I don’t think it would do any good to expose him, though it’s tempting to try.”
Lady Charleston said, “I agree. We’d lose more than we’d gain by bringing down the mayor. It would be much more productive to determine the names of the recruited agents. I could assure that our national counterintelligence people know the names so they can roll up the networks when the time comes.”
“Just make sure,” her father added, “that the person to whom you give the names is trustworthy.”
Lady Charleston nodded.
Canasta said, “The gold coins in the safe are curious as they’re illegal now.”
Lady Charleston laughed. “Ownership of gold is illegal for US citizens, but for criminals and spies, it’s perfect because gold can’t be traced.”
“Do either of you know anyone who works with crystal radios?”
Her father said, “I know where I can obtain a crystal radio set and telegraphic key. I’ll string an antenna between the two chimneys on the roof and ground it. I’ll run my coupler to my study, where I’ll be able to copy whatever messages the spies are sending in Morse code. Anyway, I’ll be doing something useful to our cause. I suspect the spies will only be transmitting at night since sound travels farthest then. I’ll have to count on you, Canasta, to fetch me anything related to the spies’ signal transmissions.”
“If they do transmit by night, I must have been lucky to have visited the chandler shop after midnight when no one was working late.”
“Was there any indication that the spies planned to work in the office after midnight in the future?” Her father asked this question with a concerned look.
“I found no evidence pointing to that, Father, but I can’t be sure they won’t do so.”
Her mother said, “Canasta, why don’t you get some sleep while we sift through the data you harvested. By the time you awaken, we’ll have worked out your plan for tonight. Meanwhile, I’ll arr
ange a meeting for you with a British intelligence operative I know.”
“I’ll get that radio with the crystal set and string up the antenna before this evening.”
Canasta was glad to have time to rest, but her mind kept actively engaged in thinking about her mission, even in sleep. She dreamt of being caught and interrogated. Worse, she envisioned being tortured and serially raped by the five German spies. By the time she awakened, she was in a cold sweat of fear. When she discussed her dream with Lady Charleston, her mother had words of wisdom.
“I never stopped thinking about any of my missions until they were over. I know about the nightmares and the cold sweats. Always remember that you have to be smarter, faster, and more sure of yourself than anyone else. You also have to keep in mind why you’re doing this dangerous work ... for the sake of your family. That thought often pulled me through the toughest times.”
Canasta’s father did bring home the radio set with a set of crystals. He strung the antenna. He listened for random traffic and took time to pause where Morse was being sent.
He smiled. “If the spies make a transmission tonight, I’ll find their frequency and copy their messages.”
Lady Charleston told her daughter, “Remember, get the codes so we can break the spies’ traffic. Keep your eyes out for anything new in the office or the safe. Your appointment with the British spook is now scheduled for tomorrow night at eight o’clock at the entrance to Summerville Park. Nancy will drop you off and pick you up afterward.”
Canasta departed at midnight and weaved her way to the chandler’s office. She had to wait while one of the Germans finished sending his radio messages. Only after he had stopped his transmissions and closed up the shop did she break in.
She surveyed the office, noticing the German had left both his clear text and his encrypted text on the desk. This violates every rule of signals and of common sense. It may be a trap. Nevertheless, I’ll copy both documents before I begin copying the codebooks.
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