Read Online The Spy by Marc Eden - Free Book Online Page B

while dropping a good portion of it, and some birds had got in somehow and were following them around. The trails of kids, popcorn, and birds had created a barrier in the middle of the platform which people were carefully sidestepping in order to get where they were going.
    The birds, keeping a sharp eye peeled for shoes, had accepted Sinclair into their midst and were sticking close to the smallest kid, who was holding behind the rest of them like an anchor. Dragging a sweater with one hand and spilling popcorn with the other, he was trying to tell the others up front that what he really wanted was a candy bar. Valerie, who had just decided to buy him one, suddenly jumped upon hearing the voice behind her, causing the birds to run out in all directions, like water leaving a drain.
    â€œGood journey, was it?” He picked up her bag.
    â€œYes thank you, Commander.” The kids were getting away! She had hoped they would lead her to the vendor.
    As they walked through the station yard, Valerie trailing, he informed her of her new rank. “You’re a Lieutenant,” Hamilton said over his shoulder. “It came through this morning.”
    â€œI am ?”
    Valerie caught him up.
    â€œBetter pay and privileges...hmmm?” He steered them around a group of Hindus, wrapped in white and thrusting up posters of Gandhi. Sinclair, interested in such things, wanted to stop and read the messages, which seemed to be printed backwards. Hamilton, muttering something about radicals, pulled her away. “Papers all signed. Looks better for the Record, you see...” What he didn’t tell her was, “In case you don’t come back.”
    Lieutenant Seymour had tracked down Bridley. James was going out of the country, no one knew where, but Seymour had managed to track him to his favorite bar, the El Flamingo, where Bridley was about to be flattened by an irate Irishman who had caught him wiring the urinal in the men’s room. Quickly measuring the situation, and sensing Bridle’s imminent doom, Seymour had swung first. The Irishman, being a fair chap, had flattened Seymour instead, whereupon Bridley had promptly come up with the requisite signature.
    Valerie Sinclair was approved.
    â€œBy the way,” purred Hamilton, “Lieutenant Seymour sends you his warmest regards.”
    â€œHe does ? She liked Seymour. He had let her hold his gun.
    The Commander looked over the tops of heads. “Ah! De Beck!” Dressed in the rich blue of the Free French, her French counterpart was opening the door of their car. It was Hamilton who had selected this officer, known to him, and recommended by Commodore Blackstone.
    The two Brits approached. “Lieutenant Sinclair, Valerie, this is Pierre de Beck, Captain, Free French Forces—your partner on the mission.”
    â€œHow do you do?” Sinclair said.
    The Captain, perceiving her to be extremely young, noticed she was wearing uniform of rate, not rank, which he attributed to some clever trick of Hamilton’s. De Beck, smiling warmly, said “Avec plaisir.”
    â€œ Enchante ”
    The two spies shook hands.
    â€œPierre is from the area where you will be going,” Hamilton told her. “We are hoping, you see, that one of you will get through.”
    â€œI am certain we both will,” said Pierre.
    Now that she had met the man into whose hands Hamilton had placed her, she felt a renewal of purpose. De Beck spoke excellent English, though with an American accent, and he seemed to know what he was about. Valerie judged him to be in his late twenties, five feet ten, dark hair and eyes, and very good-looking. Stowing their gear, Hamilton and the girl got into the back of the car. De Beck proved an excellent driver, and Edinburgh soon disappeared into the Scottish hills. The Commander ordered conversation held to a minimum. It was thinking that he had to do.
    With the air cooling in late afternoon they stopped at a hostelry