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

Ena rolled her eyes with relief, and laughed. It wasn’t until he made the joke about Freda’s timekeeping that she dared to hope her boss would behave towards Freda as he had done before Ena had told him his assistant was a German spy.

Ena’s cheeks ached from forcing herself to smile. She was bitterly disappointed by Freda’s disloyalty to the company, devastated by her treasonous acts, and hurt that their friendship was a sham, but she would die before letting Freda King know she felt any of those things.

Work orders came in from Bletchley and Beaumanor as normal. The work was done and delivered on time as it always had been – Mr Silcott and Ena by train to Bletchley, Freda by car to Beaumanor.

The day-to-day production of discs and rotors, wires and X-boards, carried on as usual. It was important that nothing appeared to be different. To all intents and purposes, nothing had changed – and yet everything had changed. Freda was no longer the last person to check her work; that was done early on Friday morning by Ena, when she had finished reading Freda’s correspondence.

At the beginning of Freda’s second week back at work after she’d been ill, a letter arrived for her in the second post. ‘It’s from Walter,’ she said. ‘He’s coming home on leave. After all this time fighting in France, he’s coming home,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion.

As she read on in silence, Ena watched the colour drain from her face. ‘I need to take a day off next week. Do you think Herbert will agree to it? He must.’ She leapt from her chair and went over to his desk to check the work diary.

Ena followed, and standing at Freda’s shoulder, looked at the diary with her. ‘I’m sure he will if you tell him how much it would mean to you to see your brother.’

Every nerve-end in Ena’s body tightened. Was this what she and Commander Dalton had been waiting for? Did it mean Freda, her brother, and the Villiers character were on the move? ‘What date will he be arriving, exactly?’ Freda didn’t reply. ‘Be nice if you were there when he got home, wouldn’t it?’ Ena held her breath fearing that she had said too much, asked too many questions.

‘Yes,’ Freda said, ‘it would be nice. I’ll ask Herbert if I can have next Friday off.’ Freda returned to her seat and put the letter in her handbag. ‘I’ll write and tell my uncle later. He’ll be so pleased. Walter is his favourite.’

Before she went home that evening, Ena telephoned Commander Dalton. She told him about the letter from Freda’s brother, relaying verbatim what Freda had told her. ‘Which,’ Ena said, ‘I didn’t believe was true. I think Freda only told me what she wanted me to know, so I’ll help her to get next Friday off. She said she was going to write to her uncle in Northampton. If she does, and if she brings the letter in to post with the factory’s mail, I’ll get my friendly postie to let me have it. I’ll say it’s mine, and I need to amend something.’ The commander didn’t reply. ‘I’ve done it before, sir.’ There was a long pause. ‘Are you there, Commander?’

‘Yes.’ There was another pause. ‘Don’t intercept the letter. I agree that she didn’t tell you the truth about its contents. For a start, her brother isn’t coming home on leave after fighting in France, or anywhere else, because he has never been in the armed forces. According to our intelligence, neither of them have crossed the Channel since arriving in England five years ago.’

‘Perhaps the letter wasn’t from her brother. If it had been, wouldn’t she have put it in the drawer with his other letters?’

‘Not necessarily. I’m sure it was from Walter King. She is too canny to leave it where you, or anyone else, could read it. And I don’t believe she will write to her uncle. News as important as your long lost brother coming home from the war, you’d want to share more quickly; you’d telephone or send a telegram. No, all that was to make the story more feasible. Sounds to me as if she’s feeding you misinformation.’

Ena suddenly felt very hot. ‘Do you think she’s on to me?’ she asked, trying not to panic.

‘No. She hasn’t done or said anything to make me think that. Something in that letter has got her rattled. She’ll be on her guard with everyone, so be careful what you ask her. I’m sure she still trusts you, she has no reason not to, but I expect she’ll only tell you what she wants you to know; what she wants you to tell Herbert Silcott.’

‘Like which day she wants off?’

‘Exactly. Which makes me wonder if it really is this weekend that she plans to leave.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to look at the letter? If she does write to her uncle, she’s bound to tell him the real date.’ A thought hit Ena and she groaned loudly. ‘How could I be so stupid?’

‘What is it?’

‘H. Villiers. He’s Freda’s uncle. Don’t you see, sir? If I could see that letter--’

‘No! And that’s an order! It’s too dangerous, Ena. You’ve done enough. Go about your business as normal. If she asks you to go to lunch, a dance, or to the damn cinema, go with her. You are her friend; someone she trusts. Don’t do anything to make her think that has changed. And be careful. Freda King is a dangerous woman. Dangerous!’ Commander Dalton, repeated. ‘I’ll telephone in a couple of days. By then I’ll know what MI5 plans to do to catch these vermin.’

Vermin? Was Freda vermin? Ena supposed the commander had every right to call her so, if she were a German spy. And dangerous? After being