Ulterior Objectives: A Lillian Saxton Thriller

by Scott Dennis Parker

  Nevins sucked on his pipe. His eyes were focused on one of the trophies on the shelf. “Why indeed?” Plumes of smoke wafted in the air. On a dime, he turned. “Colonel, might I have a word with you? In private.”

  Honeywell indicated the door with his chin. Lillian and Donnelly took the hint and left the room. Donnelly closed the door behind them. Frank stood expectantly. Even the adjutant stopping typing a report.

  “Well?” Frank asked.

  Lillian shrugged. “Not sure yet. You know the man who just arrived here?”

  “No.”

  “Ever seen him before?”

  “No.”

  “How did James contact you? I mean, was it out of the blue or do you have regular contact?”

  Frank seemed to be taken aback by the line of questioning. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “Just tell me, Frank.”

  He furrowed his brow at her. “We have regular contact. Well, we did up until last fall. Normally, we’d get together every time I had to go to the Continent. Especially when I went to Germany. Didn’t matter the town, he’d make a point to meet me, even if it was just for supper.”

  Donnelly found his voice. “Why’d he do that?”

  “We’re friends, sir. That’s what friends do.”

  “What would you talk about?”

  Frank cocked his head. “What’s going on?”

  “Tell me what you talked about,” Lillian said.

  “The old times.” Frank spoke the words slowly. “College times, mainly. He told me once it was good to speak to someone he knew that also spoke English. He didn’t mind German but he liked speaking in his native Texas tongue.”

  “Do you know what James does? His job?” Lillian asked.

  “Sure. Manages a factory that builds barrels for all the big artillery. Told me he gets to use his math skills to help design improved ways to shoot the bombs and make them more accurate.”

  Lillian changed tactics. “What happened last fall?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “If you had regular contact up until last fall, why’d you stop meeting?”

  “The war started.” He paused. “My bank stopped going over to Germany. Froze many of their assets. But after Poland and this Phoney War business, things kind of got back to normal.”

  “Last week,” Donnelly said, “who initiated the meeting? You or Geiger?”

  “He did.”

  Lillian and Donnelly exchanged a look. “You think it strange, his contacting you?” Donnelly asked.

  “Not really. It was a good time. We met in Berlin, had supper, good beer, took in a show. Even got to see the apartment he lives in there.” He paused. “Saw Elsa, too.”

  A wave of emotion coursed through Lillian. She hated her feelings at that moment and buried them. Deep within her. “And that’s when he gave you the book and the message to me?”

  Frank nodded.

  Lillian chewed her inner lip.

  The door to Honeywell’s office opened. The colonel beckoned them inside. Frank, too. He closed the door and walked around to his desk. He sat in the chair. Nevins sat in a chair next to the desk, smoke pluming from his pipe.

  “Sergeant, Captain,” Honey well began, “we’ve come to a decision. Upon consultation with Mr. Nevins here, we feel it is in the best interest of America as well as Britain that you go to Belgium. Meet with James Geiger. Obtain the codebook and bring it back to London.”

  “Why not Washington, sir?” Donnelly asked.

  “Because we’re not at war with Germany yet. They are.” The colonel pointed at Frank. “Are you going as well. If the message from Sergeant Saxton is correct, Geiger is expecting both of you, not just her.”

  He folded his hands and spoke the next words carefully. “Sergeant, you are going as an American citizen, not as a member of the United States Army. You are not to wear your uniform or any insignia. You will travel by air but using commercial aircraft.”

  Reginald Nevins puffed on his pipe. “Just because you’ll be operating undercover and away from the U.S. military, our assets will be at your disposal, should you need them. But I caution you to refrain, as much as possible, from contact with my agency in London. There are no doubt Nazi spies in London. Despite all our efforts, they’ve probably marked some of my people as spies as well. We’d like to minimize contact to avoid outing any of my people.”

  He blew a ring of smoke into the air. “Nevertheless, I’ve arranged for the two of you to report to my office in London when you arrive and before you disembark to Belgium. The ferries are still running to the Continent. Planes as well. Make whatever travel arrangements you like, but let us know so we can at least monitor your activities. Mr. Monroe, that’ll be your job. It’ll look better anyhow.”

  Frank nodded.

  Lillian nodded.

  Honeywell leaned back in his chair. “If those photographs over there are any indication, the Nazis have spies everywhere. Curiously, Sergeant Saxton, your image is not a part of the collection. There’s a possibility they don’t know who you are. Let’s keep it that way.” He folded his hands across his stomach. “For all intents and purposes, the two of you are merely meeting an old college friend in Belgium.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Liverpool, England

  Johannes Bauer sat at the port and waited. He wore a blue suit with a red tie. His black shoes were in the process of being shined by the boy at his feet. His hat was on his lap as was a folded newspaper. He liked getting his shoes shined. It enabled him to watch the people milling about without the subterfuge of holding a newspaper.

  He again thanked his seniority that enabled him to be deployed in England rather than Africa. It suited him better, especially since there was a larger pro-Nazi community in Liverpool, London, and elsewhere in the country.

  He pulled out his small notebook and opened to a page marked with a business card. A small photo slipped into his hands and he looked at it. The man he was to follow was named Frank Monroe. The American was a banker who worked for Lloyd’s of London. He was due on the RMS Queen Mary this evening. The ocean liner now rested on the dock. The only thing remaining was for the passengers to disembark.

  In a communique from Herr Colonel, Bauer had learned of the debacle in Washington. Two agents arrested and exposed as German spies. Bauer didn’t know them but felt confident they’d never betray der Führer. None of Herr Colonel’s soldiers would ever do that. Bauer knew he’d die before revealing anything, no matter how much pain he might endure.

  The precise nature of how the agents were apprehended remained a mystery. The message stated the American Army had something to do with it. That made no sense to Bauer considering Monroe wasn’t a member of the Army. Nor was America at war with Germany. Perhaps he really was a spy as Herr Colonel suspected. Fellow agents in New York reported that Monroe was traveling with a woman with red hair. Nothing more was known about her. Bauer was to report any information to Herr Colonel whenever possible.

  And get some sort of book Monroe or the woman carried. He didn’t know why it was important, just that it was. A good word from Herr Colonel, and Bauer might get a plum assignment in America. There, he would truly be at home. He might even visit his parents’ graves.

  A whistle sounded. The passengers began to disembark. First-class customers led the way over the gangway and onto the dock proper. Bauer kept his eyes peeled for the blond Monroe, yet nearly every man wore a hat. Frustrated, Bauer paid the shoe shine boy and hurried closer to the gangway.

  Proximity didn’t help. Without getting right up next to these men, Bauer wasn’t going to be able to spot Monroe.

  The women, however, were a different matter. Not all of them sported hats. He recalled the woman traveling with Monroe had red hair. Bauer perched himself next to a lamppost and eyed the departing ladies.

  Monroe’s banking salary must be modest for no red-haired woman exited the ship in the first wave. Neither for the second wave. Bauer began to sweat. Was his information incor
rect? Or had he misinterpreted it? Herr Colonel would have his head—literally—if Bauer missed his mark.

  Finally, walking next to a tall man, was a red-headed woman. He wore a snappy dark gray suit. She wore a green dress, belted at the waist. Bauer squinted and was fairly confident that the man was Monroe. The redhead leaned on Monroe’s shoulder. She walked feebly.

  Then, without any warning, she lunged toward the edge of the gangway and threw up over the side.

  Lillian Saxton fully believed she had never been as sick as she was on that trans-Atlantic voyage. Planes were not a problem. Fast cars or buses. Zero issues. Trains. Loved trains. It was her preferred means of travel.

  Ocean voyages. She’d like to vow ‘never again’ but she knew there would always be ocean crossings. Ever since the start of the war last fall, civilian air travel in Britain had halted. When Honeywell ordered her to travel to Britain as a middle stop ahead of Belgium, Lillian had immediately pictured herself in a fancy plane and landing in London within two days.

  It had taken the Queen Mary five days to cross the choppy Atlantic Ocean. The liner might have made better time if it hadn’t been required to steer a course that wouldn’t enable German U-boats to get a bead on her. Numerous ships and boats had been torpedoed in the intervening eight months. Halfway through the passage, Lillian had made a vow to herself: the return trip was going to be by plane or she was going to obtain some sort of prescription that would knock her out for the entire trip.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. A thin line of drool snaked from her mouth and wafted in the breeze.

  Frank leaned over her, his strong hands gripping her shoulders. It had been a while since she had dated anyone. The nature of her job and its undercover missions pretty much meant personal relationships were a luxury, if they even existed. She enjoyed her work, enjoyed making a difference, but she had also resigned herself to leaving anything romantic to the future. Whenever that happened.

  “Are you better now?” Monroe asked.

  Lillian glared at him. “This is the third time today I’ve been sick. I’ve been sick every damn day since we left New York. It doesn’t get better.” She inhaled deeply. “It just is.” Her voice sounded guttural to her ears.

  Frank patted her shoulders. “Listen, I’m going to make new arrangements. Let’s avoid the train tonight. The Adelphi is just down the street. I’ve stayed there many times. We can rest there tonight and get a fresh start tomorrow.”

  “Does it move?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I just want dry land and a walkable surface that doesn’t move.” Lillian leaned on him. She welcomed his arms around her shoulders. Surprisingly for a woman in her profession, she actually felt protected.

  “It’s a good thing, too,” she muttered. “Unpredictability. Anyone that might be following you will have to improvise.”

  Frank chuckled. “I don’t think anyone’s following us here. How could they know we got on the Queen Mary and sailed here?”

  “Believe me, Frank, they’ll know.” A dry heave coursed through her. She swallowed hard and stifled the urge. “Now, get me to this hotel of yours so I can lie down for a while.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The Adelphi Hotel turned out to be one of the most luxurious hotels Lillian had ever seen. In her line of work, she had been in plenty of hotels, a few of them fancy, but the Adelphi put them all to shame.

  The exterior was Edwardian in architecture. White limestone formed the outer facade of eleven stories of rooms. Columns were installed on the upper floors as well as Roman style arches.

  Lillian literally gasped as they entered the foyer, despite her queasy stomach. The marble floor positively sparkled in the late afternoon sun. After Frank made the arrangements, they walked through the spacious sitting lobby that spanned nearly the entire first story. Tables, chairs, and couches dotted the area, many clustered in small groups for intimate conversation. The ceiling was at least two stories above them. Chandeliers beamed cascades of light. High, arched windows looked out onto the street and into the equally spacious restaurant.

  Lillian stared open-mouthed at the spectacle. That actually helped her feel better as she delivered more oxygen to her lungs. The old feeling resurface, that she had made a mistake in refusing Frank’s offer of marriage those many years ago. In that first year after she had left Paris and come to terms with her decision, she had tried to imagine what life might have been like with Frank as her husband. The images she conjured were nothing compared to this. The ease with which Frank interacted with the concierge, the elevator man, the bus boy who carried their bags surprised her. When she had last seen him, Frank was just a college kid who played at being a fancy person. In the intervening years, he had grown into the type of man for whom this kind of life was normal.

  Involuntarily, she gripped Frank’s arm a little tighter.

  Still, Frank’s timing those years ago had been bad. Her heart had still been raw from James’s abrupt breakup with her. For all the elegance and panache Frank displayed now, it wasn’t there back in their college days. Had Frank waited just a few months before he popped the question, Lillian might have said “yes.”

  The elevator took them up. By the time it opened onto the seventh floor, Lillian found she could walk easily. Some of her strength was returning. She righted herself but still held onto Frank’s arm.

  If he noticed, he was gentlemanly enough not to say anything.

  The bellboy led them to Room 718 and produced a key. He opened the door with reserved flourish and stayed in the hall while Lillian and Frank entered the room. For a split second, as they rounded the door frame, Lillian worried about the sleeping arrangements. While there may have been some chemistry between them back at Oxford, she had always been with James. They had never done more than dance a few slow songs at a few parties. She had recognized the chemistry back then. Perhaps he did, too. But with her heart firmly belonging to James, they never got a chance to find out.

  She needn’t have worried. Two beds occupied the room, each with sheets and blankets crisply drawn. Changing times might be a tad awkward, but at least the sleeping would be fine.

  A distant part of her was sad, however. Here they were, years away from their younger selves, meeting again as adults in the real world. The reason for their being here was serious, but for the next few hours here at the Delphi, the outside world could just go take a hike.

  “Frank, this room is gorgeous,” Lillian murmured.

  “I agree. I’ve stayed here numerous times on my trips to and from the States. Granted, someone like James would stay on the top floors, but I’ve discovered over the years that I’m well suited for the upper middle floors.”

  The bellboy stowed both their suitcases in the closet. He walked to the bathroom and flipped on the switch. He turned on the lamp between the two beds and moved to the window.

  “Please keep the curtains closed,” Lillian said.

  The bellboy stopped. His uniform was tight, the skin of his neck chafing along the high collar. The tag on his suit read “Cedric.”

  “As you wish, ma’am.” He turned to Frank. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

  Frank looked at Lillian, eyes raised. “Supper?”

  She grinned. “In a place like this, I’d be happy with broth. Of course, let’s go to supper.”

  Frank smiled and nodded. “When is dinner served?” he asked the bellboy.

  “It’s already started.”

  “Very good.” Frank tipped the young man and walked him to the door.

  Lillian looked around the room, awed. No matter how much she was dazzled by the opulence of the Adelphi, this was still an assignment. Two Nazi spies had followed them back in Washington. They already knew Frank and what he looked like. There was also a chance they knew her, despite what Honeywell had said. No matter how clever she and her agency tried to be or what kind of false names they used, when agents travelled commercially, they were able to be seen. It was an
illusion to think that the two spies she had beaten were the only two in America. No, there would be others. It was best to be prepared.

  She sat on the bed near the door.

  “I see you’ve made your choice.”

  “Yes. I need to be nearest the door.” Lillian rose and walked to the closet. She opened her suitcase and rummaged through the top layer of clothes. She brought out a small pistol. She ejected the magazine and cocked the weapon to discharge the remaining shell. The bullet landed on the pristine sheets. Next, she examined the weapon under the light next to the bed. Satisfied, she thumbed the extra shell into the magazine, slid the magazine back into the grip, and cocked the gun again.

  Lillian caught Frank’s curious gaze. “It’s a Browning Hi-Power, .9 mm. Holds thirteen shells.”

  “I thought your colonel said to travel unarmed.”

  “He’s not here. And I don’t go on any mission unarmed. He knows that. I’m just not going to carry it on my hip for all to see.” She reached over to her purse and slipped the gun inside.

  Frank stood there, slowing shaking his head, a beaming smile etched across his face. “Lillian Saxton, what a remarkable woman you’ve become.” He gestured to the lavatory. “Would you like to freshen up before we go downstairs?”

  Lillian stood and sashayed by him on the way back to the closet. She ran a finger across his chest. “Why, Frank Monroe, I’d love to. And I’ll also tell you about the other message James sent.”

  ***

  Johannes Bauer had to be careful. Standing alongside a boat dock full of a mix of different people, he didn’t stand out. Tailing Monroe and the redhead into the Adelphi Hotel was something else entirely. For one, he wasn’t sure his attire was good enough. It was more than passable on the docks. Now, he barely reached concierge attire. He considered heading back to his apartment flat, the safe house, but rejected it. He wasn’t entirely sure what Monroe was going to do tonight. He thought the American and his lady friend would board the train bound for London. Bauer had already purchased a ticket. But when the redhead vomited over the side of the gangway, even Bauer knew the plans were going to change.