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“It would serve as a fine example as to why this should be his territory, not Donovan’s,” Bruce said. “Hoover in a heartbeat would bring in his whole lot of agents—under the auspices of hunting down Nazis and Nazi sympathizers headed for the States—to make us look bad. He knows how fearful FDR is of the fifth column.”
“We don’t know how much Chambers really knows about the OSS,” Stevens said.
“No, we don’t. Probably more than we’d like and he’d admit. But I’ve met him. He’s a good man. A veteran. A patriot. He understands the importance of keeping secrets. Yet…when a man is worried about his daughter, all bets are off as to what he will or won’t do. Especially if a man as formidable as Brandon Chambers believes he’s being lied to by the FBI.”
“So we’re in a race to find Ann,” Stevens said.
Bruce nodded solemnly.
“Charity Hoche,” Stevens added suddenly.
Bruce looked at him a moment.
“Yes. What about her?”
“It just came to me. She and Ann were at Bryn Mawr.”
There was recognition in Bruce’s eyes. He immediately had a mental picture of the tall, radiant, very smart—and very well-built—blonde. Charity Hoche was from the Main Line of Philadelphia, her family well-connected, which, in large part, explained why Wild Bill Donovan personally had approved her recent transfer from OSS Washington.
And, Bruce thought, she’s a shining example of why some derisively refer to the OSS as Donovan’s Oh So Social club.
Which isn’t entirely fair, to the OSS in general and to Charity Hoche in particular.
Charity, connected or not, has a master’s degree in political science, earned summa cum laude . She’s worked hard for Donovan, surprising everyone with her worth to the organization…to the point Donovan says she has the Need to Know here on a par with Ed Stevens’s.
She’s shown me she’s certainly no wilting lily.
And, Jesus, those magnificent breasts….
“Good thinking,” Bruce said. “Put her on it. She’s still out at Whitbey House….”
“Consider it done. I’ll track her down. And you’ll get me the message for General Donovan?”
Bruce reached across his desk for a sheet of blank paper, then pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “Right now. Before I get one from him.”
Stevens held up the sheet that was in his hand. He nodded at the paper and said, “How do you want to act on Stan Fine’s request?”
Bruce looked at the paper, his eyes intense.
“You mean Dick Canidy’s request?” he said pointedly.
“It’s from Stan Fine.”
“But it’s Canidy’s. I know it. You know it.”
“Okay, Canidy’s request,” Stevens said agreeably. “How would you like to respond?”
“Any idea why he wants to delay that scientist’s travel to the States?”
“None whatsoever.”
Bruce looked deep in thought, then said, “It’s really not for us to decide. Professor…Professor…”
“Rossi,” Stevens furnished.
“…Professor Rossi is an expert in metals. Through his association with the University of Rome, he’s a contemporary of Professor Dyer, who Canidy pulled out of Germany last month, who now is in the States working on the Manhattan Project.”
Stevens wondered why Bruce had just gone through the You know it’s Canidy, not Fine song and dance and now was telling him what Bruce knew they both already knew about Rossi and Dyer.
