The 9 Madalyn Morgan (best romantic novels in english .TXT) 📖

given drugs on the train, which could have killed her, Ena felt sick just thinking about what might happen if Freda found out she was spying on her and, through the commander, reporting back to MI5.

Ena put the telephone receiver on its cradle and went over to her chair. She sat down, put her elbows on the desk, and rested her chin on linked fingers. It was hard to think of Freda as a spy. She had led a double life for as long as Ena had known her, longer. And German? Everything about Freda was so English. She spoke perfect English. Her clothes and identity papers, even her engineering qualifications were English.

Ena looked across at Freda’s empty chair with a heavy heart. They had been friends for almost as long as they had worked together – and their friendship had extended beyond the factory gates. Tears pricked the back of Ena’s eyes as she brought to mind the times they had been shopping together, been to dances, to the pictures. And now it all counted for nothing, because everything about Freda was a lie.

Suddenly Ena’s hands flew to her mouth. Freda had been with her when she killed the man on the train. She had dealt with the man’s corpse, positioning it to look as if the man was asleep. She had been kind and understanding, helping her to come to terms with what she had done. Ena took a shuddering breath. Freda had kept her terrible secret, but under interrogation it was bound to come out.

Ena banished all thoughts of the man she had killed from her mind. She would face the consequences of her actions, of that fateful day, when the time came. Until then she must focus on the job she had to do, which was to expose Freda King, her brother Walter, and the man they called H. Villiers as spies.

Their friendship, if there had ever been any substance to it on Freda’s part, was over and Ena was not going to let fear nor sentimentality stop her from playing her part in getting Freda King, her brother and uncle arrested for treason.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wondering if she could pull off the deception, Ena walked into Bletchley station amidst a gaggle of young women who, by their excited conversation, were going to London to celebrate one of their birthdays. Ena followed them along the southbound platform, hanging back as they neared the buffet. Two elderly women were leaving. Before the door closed behind them, Ena slipped inside.

Crossing the room, she saw a man look up from his newspaper. She glanced at him briefly. He gave a short nod. Ena didn’t acknowledge him but opened the door leading to the northbound platform and made her exit.

Outside, she turned right, ignored the Out of Order sign on the door of the Ladies Toilet, entered, and was greeted by Commander Dalton and the two intelligence officers who had briefed her earlier. She let out a long shuddering breath, closed the door, and leant against it.

‘Freda’s clothes, or as good as,’ one of them said, handing Ena a brown leather hanging suitcase, the kind used for transporting military uniforms. Ena took it and went into the nearest cubicle to change.

The grey suit was the same fabric and colour as one she had seen Freda wear but not quite the same style. The seamstress who had copied it had nipped the waistline in a little too much, making the bottom of the jacket flair more than was fashionable. Ena tugged gently on the lapels of the jacket. It fitted perfectly.

She took her feet from her own shoes one at a time and slipped them into a pair identical to Freda’s. They were an inch higher than Ena was used to wearing, and narrower. She wiggled her toes. They were a snug fit but not uncomfortably tight. It didn’t matter, she would be sitting down in them.

‘Hat?’ one of the security men said as Ena opened the toilet door, and handed her a red beret.

‘She was wearing the beret then?’ Ena asked. Putting on the hat, she pulled it slightly, so it tilted over her left eye, the way she remembered Freda wearing it.

‘Yes. We brought a selection just in case, but she was wearing the one her brother asked her to wear.’

‘We’re not sure that they are brother and sister,’ Commander Dalton said. ‘There were only two bedrooms in the uncle’s house – one not much bigger than a box room – and by look of the clothes in the small wardrobe, it was her uncle’s bedroom. The other room, much bigger, had a double wardrobe with men’s and women’s clothes in it, and a double bed.’

‘How do you know all this? More importantly, how do you know Freda won’t be on the train?’ The second she asked the question, Ena regretted it. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘Best you don’t know,’ the commander said with a wry smile. ‘Right! Are you ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be,’ Ena said. Pulling on a pair of pale grey gloves, she took a black handbag from the security officer. ‘Don’t forget these,’ he said. He handed Ena an umbrella and laid a light grey coat over her arm.

When the officer stepped back, Commander Dalton stepped forward. He put his hands on Ena’s shoulders and bent down until his face was level with hers. ‘You’re sure you want to do this?’ Ena nodded. ‘That’s the ticket. You won’t be on your own,’ he assured her. ‘Someone will be with you every step of the way. You may not see him or her but they’ll be there.’

‘And,’ the security officer said, ‘We are ninety-nine percent sure that the spies in Freda and Walter King’s cell system would have gone to ground as soon as she told them her cover had been compromised. And she must