Web of Spies Book II

 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