The 9 by Madalyn Morgan (tools of titans ebook .txt) 📕

look through his pockets, see if he has any ID on him.’ Freda knelt down and looked into Ena’s face. ‘Promise me you’ll stay here? Ena? Promise me.’ Ena nodded.

As Freda left, Ena heard the brakes grumble and felt the train slow down. Shaking, she gathered her handbag and gasmask, and hugged them to her. As the train pulled into Bletchley station, Freda returned. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, collecting her own handbag and gasmask.

Ena nodded, picked up the case of work, and followed her friend into the corridor. As they passed the end compartment, Ena saw the blinds were fully drawn. Freda had pulled them down to stop people from looking in. Ena thought she was going to be sick and gagged.

Freda armed Ena into the buffet, sat her down at the back of the room, and ordered two teas. ‘Drink this,’ she said, when the waitress brought their cups. ‘You’ll feel better.’

‘Was he all right?’ Ena whispered, ‘When you went back, I mean. Was he all right?’

‘Don’t worry about him. He won’t be hurting anyone again,’ Freda said, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t be heard.

Tears rolled down Ena’s cheeks. ‘Are you saying that I-- Is he?’

‘I don’t know. I couldn’t find a pulse but I’m not a doctor. He might just be unconscious. I pulled him round and sat him up. He looked as if he was asleep. With a bit of luck, he won’t be found until Euston.’

‘With a bit of luck?’ Ena shook her head. ‘I’ve killed a man. I need to report it, tell the police. They’ll understand if we tell them he was attacking you, and he--’ Ena almost said, was the man who drugged me and stole my work last year, but she stopped in time. She hadn’t told Freda about the incident, Commander Dalton’s orders. But after what Freda had done for her today, Freda was the one person Ena knew she could trust.

‘Listen to me, Ena.’ Freda held Ena’s hands and waited until she had her attention. ‘It was as much my fault as yours. You lifted the case but it was me who tripped him up. I killed him as much as you did.’ Ena shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip. ‘Think about it, if you hadn’t come into the compartment – hadn’t stopped him when you did – he might have killed me. Chin up,’ Freda said, with a sad smile, ‘We’re in this together.’

Commander Dalton sat behind his desk and listened without interrupting Ena and Freda’s account of what had happened on the train that day. When they had finished, he asked to speak to each of them separately. Ena asked why, when their account was the same. The commander said that sometimes going over something as important as this, on your own, you remembered things that you perhaps didn’t think of, or thought unimportant, when you were with someone else, listening to their account.

After asking Ena if she was happy to carry on without taking a break, Commander Dalton suggested Freda might like to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. His suggestion did not require her to answer. ‘Give us half an hour,’ he said. Freda looked at Ena, smiled supportively, and left.

Ena leant forward and braced herself for an interrogation but the commander picked up the telephone. ‘Get me Sir James Hillingborough at MI5 will you? His private line.’ Ena’s mouth was suddenly very dry. She licked her lips – it didn’t help. ‘Good afternoon, Sir James, it’s Horace Dalton here. Very well thank you. And you? Jolly good. Sir James, I have favour to ask.’ There was a short pause and the commander laughed. ‘Now I shall owe you two.’ Another pause, this time Ena suspected it was Sir James who was laughing. ‘Thank you. It’s a rather delicate matter. There’s a body on a train that is due into Euston station in the next--’ He looked at his watch, ‘half an hour. It’s the 9:45 from Rugby. Could you get someone at Euston, someone who will keep this under his hat, to locate the body and stay with it until your chaps get there?’ Horace Dalton nodded and said, ‘A spy. German we think. Fell over and hit his head. Probably caused a heart attack.’ The commander laughed again. ‘Thank you, Sir James. Goodbye.’ Dalton put the receiver on its cradle and looked across the table at Ena. ‘MI5’s problem now. They’ll deal with it discreetly. The death certificate will say heart attack. So there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘What will happen to him?’

‘When MI5’s medical examiner has finished with him, he’ll be sent to the morgue. There’ll be no way of tracing his next of kin, even if he has one. These people are professionals. His identity card, ration book, petrol permit and driving license will be forgeries. Did Miss King find any papers on him?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask her.’

The commander shook his head. ‘They’ll be false anyway,’ he said. ‘If there’s an address it won’t exist. If on the off chance the address is real, I can promise you that whoever lives there won’t have heard of him.’ Dalton leaned back in his chair, put his hands on the desk palm down, and spread his fingers. ‘Even if he was carrying something that was traceable, no one will admit to knowing him.’

‘What? No one will come forward to claim the body?’

‘No. Spies know what’s in store if they are killed. If they’re caught they kill themselves anyway, by cyanide capsule.’ Ena sat wide-eyed, hardly able to take in what the commander was saying. ‘Better to be dead than risk giving up their handler and fellow spies under interrogation. It sounds harsh but spies are well aware of the rules before they sign up for the job.’ Dalton shook his head, ‘Don’t feel too sorry