Dr. Margaret Emanuelson
America’s sudden entrance into World War II in 1941 became the critical impetus for the development of the first central intelligence agency in American history. President Roosevelt appointed General William Donovan as its creator and under his skills, the Office of Strategic Services quickly covered the globe.
But the demands of that cataclysmic conflict were also the force that thrust America’s women into roles heretofore unaccepted in a society known as a “man’s world.”
From America to Europe, “Web of Spies,” Book II, in the series “Company of Spies,” continues to portray not only the daring missions of the men but also those of the women who served alongside them as O.S.S. operatives in that secret, clandestine, skullduggery world of espionage.
Well known as a master storyteller, Dr. Margaret Emanuelson draws from her past experiences as a clinical, forensic psychologist and veteran of the O.S.S. to relate her tales of the audacious and heroic exploits of O.S.S. operatives, and weaves her characters in and out of each other's lives in this fascinating, riveting, fast-moving story of espionage, political intrigue, murder, treason, deceit, patriotism, love, and the overcoming power of people of faith in a World at War.
Dr. Margaret Emanuelson is a clinical, forensic psychologist and a veteran of the O.S.S., America’s first central intelligence agency.
“Web of Spies, Book II" of the series "Company of Spies” portrays not only the daring exploits of the O.S.S. operatives, but the changing roles of women who served alongside the men in a society known as a “man’s world,” and demonstrates the overcoming power of people of faith in a World at War.
The author of "Company of Spies, Book I, Code Name Jana." and "Lost Yesterdays," she is a columnist for the "North Beach Sun," and has written for several periodicals. A frequent guest on the "700 club," her speaking engagements include the American Medical Association Symposium on Medicine and Religion, and a radio series: "God’s Psychology."
An Episcopalian and member of the Order of St. Luke, the Physician, she resides with her husband, a retired industrialist, in Scottsville, Virginia.
December 30, 1942
The Liverpool docks were teeming with ships, some tying up to unload and some, now relieved of their cargo, preparing to get underway.
That morning, a cold brisk wind stung the hands and faces of the O.S.S. team as they assumed their unfamiliar tasks. Special Operations Executive (SOE) had scheduled an extra day, essential to securing bearings of the layout and preparing alternatives for any unanticipated events that might occur on the following day.
Somehow, no assignment ever seemed to proceed exactly according to plan. They had to be ready for anything.
That same night before they left London, Abby and Biff had dinner in the dining room of the safe house. The excellent service and food escaped their notice as anxiety began to take over. Their usual animated conversation was noticeably absent, and Abby was clearly preoccupied.
“I know we’re scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning but do you think we’ve covered everything?” she said.
“I think so, darling. We’ve consulted with Colonel Mathersby for the past several days; we’ve studied the map layouts to familiarize ourselves with the harbor, the placement of the structures, the warehouses, the distances between them, and every detail we could anticipate. I don’t think there’s much more we can do.”
“Oh, I suppose not. We have tried to anticipate every unforeseen foul up. Still, we can only project the possibilities.”
Abby toyed with her dessert; finally she looked across the table at Biff. “I know we have our instructions but things could get more complicated once we get to Liverpool. Something we don’t expect could turn up—or we might forget something, give ourselves away.”
“I suppose that could happen, but we’ve been briefed rather thoroughly. You’re just a little anxious, sweetheart. It’s quite normal in an operation like this.”
“I suppose so. It’s the waiting that’s so difficult.”
“Once we get under way you’ll be fine,” he said. “We know the scenario.” He chuckled. “After all, who could doubt a handsome French diplomat and his beautiful wife?”
“Indeed, who could? We shouldn’t have too much trouble pulling that part off; after all, we are engaged.” She smiled.
“Yes, darling. That does make it easier. If we were assigned much different roles, I should have a dreadful time trying to hide my feelings for you.”
“Moi aussi, Monsieur Du Pré,” she said with a playful gesture.
Biff laughed. “A nice touch, don’t you think, the briefcase chained to my wrist? Makes me look more authentic.”
“But what’s in the documents?”
“Sorry—that’s top secret, darling, ‘need to know.’”
“Oh, tommyrot! There are times when this ‘need to know’ policy irks me no end. How do they know others don’t need to know, particularly with as important an issue as this one?”
“I know it’s frustrating, Abby, bu
