The Incidental Spy

Chapters 19-20

Chapter Nineteen

Lena's mood deteriorated after the meet with Hans. She was dirty, scheming, worse than a tease. In fact, she was nothing more than a whore for the Nazis—supplying information rather than sex. But this was her lot. She had agreed to it. And so over the next few days she studied the scientists at the Met Lab, particularly the younger ones, wondering who would become her unwitting accomplice.

She finally settled on Irving Mandell, a shy, self-effacing young man from the South Side who had stayed at the university after earning his PhD. He worked on the Pile, and she knew he held the highest clearance possible. He was skinny and tall with curly black hair that resembled a messy bird's nest and an acne-scarred face. His eyes were large and soulful, but he wore a perpetually timid expression.

She made sure she was at her desk when he came and went each day and started with cheery "good mornings" and "good nights." That led to brief conversations and lots of smiles on her part. At one point, two weeks later, after one conversation, she ran to the ladies room, afraid she was going to vomit. She didn't recognize herself. What had she become?

Sonia followed her in with a worried frown. "You're as white as Casper's ghost. What's wrong?"

Lena shook her head.

Sonia's eyes narrowed. That was not a good sign. Lena would have to be more careful.

Two weeks after that, it paid off. She and Irving had shared coffee on one occasion, lunch on another, and this evening they'd met for a beer at the restaurant she and Karl used to frequent. Lena always kept the conversation focused on physics and work. "I've always wanted to understand better," She said. "But I never had the chance to study. You know, coming from Germany when I did..." She let her voice trail off.

Irving nodded earnestly. Although he wasn't aware of it, he had played his part perfectly. He was by turns the eager scholar, the wise teacher, the ardent suitor. Lena was sure no woman had ever paid him this much attention, and she felt a stab of guilt every time she flashed him a smile or brushed his hand with her fingers, as she did now.

He launched into an explanation of how plutonium could theoretically be separated from irradiated uranium.

"Is that what you're doing in the Pile?"

"That's part of it. You see if we can successfully do that, we can then manufacture as much as we need. And then..." He frowned. "You know, I'm not supposed to talk about it with anyone. Including co-workers."

She looked over. "Of course, you're not. I'm sorry. I don't mean to—." She let her voice trail off.

"What?" He asked.

She lifted a shoulder, then shook her head. "Nothing."

His expression softened. "What is it, Lena?"

"I—I would love to see the Pile. Is it safe to go in?"

"Oh yes."

"No chance of people getting irradiated, is there?"

"None whatsoever." He laughed. "Tell me, Lena, why is the Pile so important?"

She looked down. "It's—it's just that we—you and I and all the others—will be a part of history. What you are doing will change the world forever."

He folded his arms.

"I— guess I just wanted to share a tiny little part of it. I long to see it. Even just for a few seconds." She flashed him a sad smile. "Still, I understand. You can not compromise security."