The Double Agents (Men at War 6)

“And so you moved the op out here.”

“It was the logical thing to do,” Stevens said. He paused, then went on. “But there’s another pressing problem that brings me out here.”

Charity’s face was questioning.

Stevens explained: “I need you to find Ann Chambers as soon as possible.”

“I have no idea where she is,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about her, wondering, but I don’t have a clue.”

“No one does. And that’s the problem. Her father is demanding to know what we know, to know what Dick Canidy knows.”

Charity’s eyebrows went up.

“Dick,” she said, “doesn’t know anything. He’s in Algiers.”

Charity felt for Dick and Ann; she damn sure knew what it meant to be in love…and separated by war.

“I know,” Stevens said. “And Ann Chambers’s father—”

“Brandon. He’s got real clout,” Charity interrupted.

“Brandon Chambers does have real clout. And he’s been on the phone to the FBI trying to find the OSS and Canidy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Stevens said. “Oh.”

“I wonder if he’s tried to get to him through Eddie Bitter,” Charity said. “And couldn’t, and that’s why he’s gone to the FBI.”

“Why Bitter?”

“He and Ann are cousins,” Charity said. “Their mothers are sisters, Mrs. Chambers and Mrs. Bitter.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten that.”

“But I doubt that Eddie would tell his Uncle Brandon much—if anything. About the OSS, that is. Does he know where Dick is?”

“No,” Stevens said. “And Canidy sure wouldn’t have told him.”

“Brandon Chambers won’t give up until he gets what he wants.”

Stevens nodded. “And that’s why you’re going to find Ann—and give Brandon Chambers what he needs—before we get any more attention than we already have.”

Charity nodded slowly.

“Let’s go back in before our drinks spoil,” Stevens said with a smile. “We can pick this up in the morning.”

They walked back into the pub.

As they approached the table, Major David Niven noticed with some disappointment that Charity’s blouse was now dry.

He held up a full martini for her to take, brought his up in a toast, and declared: “Tonight we drink, for tomorrow we ship our man to sea.”

“Next week,” Montagu corrected.

Niven looked at him over the top of his martini, said, “Whenever,” then swallowed half his drink.

[ONE]