Read Online A Spy in the Shadows (Spy Noir Series Book 1) by Randy Grigsby - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Randy Grigsby
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embassy business.
Later, she would drive out to the archeological site and with the help of William Hance forward a coded message to the radio center at Wannsee informing Richter of her suspicions. She would also inform them of the notes on the itinerary. But for now, she wanted to learn as much about Fields as possible. Allen Miles could unknowingly assist her.
“It’s his sister in London, I’m afraid,” Leni said. “The poor dear, we met when she came here for a visit and I don’t suppose she has anyone else to turn to, with her brother’s death—”
“Horrible affair,” Miles said quickly.
“Yes . . . well, the poor sister it seems she’s attached herself to me during her loss, sending two telegrams overflowing with grief. It was all very sad, which makes me believe she has questions about what duties her brother was performing for the government.”
“Understandable,” Miles said. “I lost a brother at Dunkirk.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” Leni said.
“Time has put some distance on it, still there are times I can’t help but think of Donald. He was a fantastic cricket player . . . I was always so jealous of his talents.” Leni waited on him. “So, I guess it’s the best we can do for the poor sister, don’t you think?” he asked.
“She would appreciate it,” Leni said. “And I would appreciate it also, Allan.”
Miles stood gallantly. “Then I won’t disappoint her . . . or you, Leni. Come back to my office tomorrow and I’ll see what I can find out for her.”
“One other question, does the initials ‘SLU’ mean anything to you?”
He hesitated at the corner of the desk. “No, don’t think so. Should it?”
“There was mention of it in some of the Major’s papers. His sister thought perhaps it was a friend. Probably nothing.”
“Probably.”
As Leni stood, Miles came across the desk. She offered her hand, and he gladly took it. “Thank you, Allan.” She let her hand brush his forearm when she turned toward the door. “Say, two o’clock tomorrow? Most of my morning is occupied.”
“Certainly.”
Leni could feel his eyes on her when she left.
----
Back at home Leni performed the obvious duties of a British officer’s wife. For the remainder of the morning she supervised the pruning back of the dried flowers in the front yard.
After a late lunch, Leni was in the kitchen supervising dinner being prepared for the colonel. It was Wednesday and that was always a special day. A unique Iranian meal was prepared and they would entertain two couples with drinks, dinner, and then playing bridge until ten o’clock. A boring affair for Leni, except that at times during the conversation, there were bits of information worth passing on to Berlin.
----
Late afternoon.
For most of the first half of the twentieth century, except for the long-term monopoly on excavations held by the French, Iran was still terra incognita archeologically.
But with the opening of archaeological excavations in Persia, the German Intelligence Organization seized upon the excellent opportunity. With blind funds provided by false organizations through universities, the Abwehr set up agents—legitimate scientists—at valid historical sites from which they could keep an eye on the allies.
One such site was just south of the large Islamic city of Rayy, twenty-five miles from Tehran, with its crumbling fortifications rising above the flat dry plains. William Hance, long-respected archaeologist, classical music lover—and agent of the Abwehr—headed the dig project.
----
Leni made her usual grand entrance into the archaeological camp; flying in with the Chevrolet’s motor whining, dust boiling in huge clouds behind the sedan. She slid to a dramatic halt between a permanent wooden hut for securing supplies and a large canvas tent.
A dust-coated black Simca Cinq, the French version of the Fiat, was
Later, she would drive out to the archeological site and with the help of William Hance forward a coded message to the radio center at Wannsee informing Richter of her suspicions. She would also inform them of the notes on the itinerary. But for now, she wanted to learn as much about Fields as possible. Allen Miles could unknowingly assist her.
“It’s his sister in London, I’m afraid,” Leni said. “The poor dear, we met when she came here for a visit and I don’t suppose she has anyone else to turn to, with her brother’s death—”
“Horrible affair,” Miles said quickly.
“Yes . . . well, the poor sister it seems she’s attached herself to me during her loss, sending two telegrams overflowing with grief. It was all very sad, which makes me believe she has questions about what duties her brother was performing for the government.”
“Understandable,” Miles said. “I lost a brother at Dunkirk.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” Leni said.
“Time has put some distance on it, still there are times I can’t help but think of Donald. He was a fantastic cricket player . . . I was always so jealous of his talents.” Leni waited on him. “So, I guess it’s the best we can do for the poor sister, don’t you think?” he asked.
“She would appreciate it,” Leni said. “And I would appreciate it also, Allan.”
Miles stood gallantly. “Then I won’t disappoint her . . . or you, Leni. Come back to my office tomorrow and I’ll see what I can find out for her.”
“One other question, does the initials ‘SLU’ mean anything to you?”
He hesitated at the corner of the desk. “No, don’t think so. Should it?”
“There was mention of it in some of the Major’s papers. His sister thought perhaps it was a friend. Probably nothing.”
“Probably.”
As Leni stood, Miles came across the desk. She offered her hand, and he gladly took it. “Thank you, Allan.” She let her hand brush his forearm when she turned toward the door. “Say, two o’clock tomorrow? Most of my morning is occupied.”
“Certainly.”
Leni could feel his eyes on her when she left.
----
Back at home Leni performed the obvious duties of a British officer’s wife. For the remainder of the morning she supervised the pruning back of the dried flowers in the front yard.
After a late lunch, Leni was in the kitchen supervising dinner being prepared for the colonel. It was Wednesday and that was always a special day. A unique Iranian meal was prepared and they would entertain two couples with drinks, dinner, and then playing bridge until ten o’clock. A boring affair for Leni, except that at times during the conversation, there were bits of information worth passing on to Berlin.
----
Late afternoon.
For most of the first half of the twentieth century, except for the long-term monopoly on excavations held by the French, Iran was still terra incognita archeologically.
But with the opening of archaeological excavations in Persia, the German Intelligence Organization seized upon the excellent opportunity. With blind funds provided by false organizations through universities, the Abwehr set up agents—legitimate scientists—at valid historical sites from which they could keep an eye on the allies.
One such site was just south of the large Islamic city of Rayy, twenty-five miles from Tehran, with its crumbling fortifications rising above the flat dry plains. William Hance, long-respected archaeologist, classical music lover—and agent of the Abwehr—headed the dig project.
----
Leni made her usual grand entrance into the archaeological camp; flying in with the Chevrolet’s motor whining, dust boiling in huge clouds behind the sedan. She slid to a dramatic halt between a permanent wooden hut for securing supplies and a large canvas tent.
A dust-coated black Simca Cinq, the French version of the Fiat, was
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