The Incidental Spy

Chapters 21-22

Chapter Twenty-one

August-September, 1942

In August some of the physicists at Met Lab isolated a microscopic amount of plutonium. It was a major development; the entire department buzzed with the news. This meant that it was possible to separate plutonium from uranium and thus produce a supply of it for the bomb. Met Lab was on the right track. In the meantime, Enrico Fermi and his team continued with experiments that would produce a chain reaction in the Pile.

Lena fed the information to Hans. He'd been elated with her sketch of the Pile, and he seemed fascinated by every new development. She also passed him the news that construction of the bomb and its materials would not be in Chicago. Production would relocate to the Clinch River in Tennessee and would be turned over to a private firm reporting to the Army. An experimental pile would be built in the Argonne Forest Preserve just outside Chicago, but the Met Lab scientists were just that, scientists and researchers, not facility operators. Compton had wanted to keep everything at the University, she told Hans, but he was overruled. People were fearful of an accident in such a heavily populated area.

In September, the Army appointed to head the production effort, which was now called the Manhattan Project. Groves, a former West Pointer with the Army Corps of Engineers, had supervised the construction of building in Washington. When Groves took command, he made it clear that by the end of the year, a decision would be made as to which process would be used to produce a bomb.

Lena dutifully reported the news to Hans. Occasionally Hans would meet her in a black Ford, and they'd drive around the South Side. Other times they met in a coffee shop, always a different one. This time he drove to a diner where they sat at the counter. A fresh-faced boy with a white peaked cap took their order of iced tea for Lena, a chocolate milkshake for Hans. Leaning her elbows on the counter, Lena watched the boy make the milkshake.

"Do you have another car, a black sedan of some sort?" She asked.

Hans frowned. It took him a moment to reply. He shook his head. "No. Why?"

"Someone was following me in a black car. I did not know the make."

"When?"

"Perhaps a week or so ago."

"Where?"

"On 57th Street. In the morning. I was on my way to work."

Hans arched his eyebrows. "Did you see who it was?"

She shook her head. "He was wearing sunglasses and a boater."

Hans splayed his hands on the counter. "I have no idea."

Lena looked over. "The man looked familiar. But I couldn't place him."

Hans shrugged. "Perhaps he just wanted to follow an attractive woman." He smiled, but it looked forced.

The boy behind the counter brought their drinks. Lena reached for a straw and sipped her tea. Hans hadn't made the slightest move towards her in the months they'd been working together. He'd been totally professional, although he clearly knew she'd been using her womanly charms on Irving. For a moment she wondered why he kept her at a distance, especially when he told her more than once how attractive she was. Then she decided it was better this way. Not only was he a Nazi, her something else to worry about.

Chapter Twenty-two

Lena was at work one evening in late September. The door to the Department was closed, but a breeze with just a hint of fall wafted through a window. She was glad summer was over; the heat and humidity had seemed particularly harsh this year. She'd just finished photographing the latest batch of letters and documents and was putting the originals back into the file cabinet when she felt a draft. She spun around.
A man in an army uniform stood at the door to the Department, his gaze locked on her. The stripes on his shoulders said he was an officer. He had short bristly gray hair, pale blue eyes that were a touch rheumy. Frown lines etched across his forehead. He'd once been fit, she thought, but a large belly indicated those days were over. In the short sleeves of his summer uniform, his arms and the back of his hands were covered with heavy dark hair, which gave him a slightly simian look.

Lena froze. How long had he been there? Why hadn't she heard the door open? What had he seen? Panic crawled up her spine. Her arms and legs felt like they had suddenly detached from her body.

The man folded his arms. "And just what are you doing, young lady?"

The blood left her head in a rush. She wanted to look down to see if her hands were shaking but she didn't dare. This was it. She had been caught. Then she recalled one of Hans' rules of tradecraft. If she was ever cornered or caught, the best defense was a good offense. She'd told Hans at the time she didn't know if she could. He'd chuckled and said,

"You will. You'll see."

Now, she realized he was right. There was no other option. She drew herself up, not sure where her courage was coming from. "I should be asking the same of you."

The officer's brows shot up. "Do you know who I am?"

Lena mustered what she hoped was an intimidating scowl. "I have no idea. So I will call security. This is a protected facility." She started toward the telephone on her desk.

He took a step forward. "I am Colonel Charles Collins."

Lena continued to her desk and slipped behind it. Her purse was on the floor, and as she got to it, she unobtrusively kicked it further under the desk. Then she lifted her gaze, as if she'd just made the connection. "Collins? You were here a few years ago."

"I was. And now I'm back." His expression bordered on arrogance. "Who are you?"

She eyed him warily. A wave of trepidation rolled through her, but she was damned if she'd let him see it. "The Department is closed, Colonel. In fact, I am obligated to report your unauthorized visit. How did you get this far? Our security is first-rate."

"Whoever you are, you clearly do not know my position."

"And you do not know mine." Lena was amazed at herself. Where had she acquired this steely resolve? She opened her drawer, took out paper and pen, and wrote his name down. "A report will be filed tomorrow morning."

"And to whom do you think the reports go?"

She looked him up and down, wondering if he could smell the fear on her.

"I am in charge of security. My job is to ensure there are no breaches at the Met Lab. Now. You either tell me who you are or I will have you detained."

Lena didn't know whether to believe him or not, but in case he was telling the truth, she answered. "I am Lena Stern, one of the secretaries for the Department." She hesitated. "And if what you are saying is true, why was I not told about you?" It felt like a bird was fluttering inside her stomach.

"Obviously your security clearance level is not high enough," he said.

The stress coupled with his self-importance made her want to let out a nervous laugh. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn't.

"Why are you here?" He repeated.

She parried the question. "If you are who you say you are, you would know."

He stared at her, his face reddening.

"There is so much work these days that I occasionally stay late to catch up." She bent down and reached for her purse, hoping he wouldn't spot the Minox lying on top. "But now if you'll excuse me, Colonel..." She snapped the clasp of her purse shut. "...I am going home."

She felt his eyes on her back as she walked out the door.