Chapter Twenty-Eight

I was glad Ramsey was tied up the next day because I still had my job to do for Pony. Even the cloud I had been floating on since I left the major's town house had not been enough to make me forget that little task.

Before I'd left our last meeting, Pony had told me he'd send someone along with me to do the wiretapping. I was only required to get us in and out of the building without detection. That was simple enough. It was dusk the next evening when I slipped out of my flat and made my way with one of Pony Peavey's men toward the target destination.

I hadn't told anyone about this job, and I thought that was for the best.

I didn't like hiding things from Uncle Mick, but it seemed that ever since the war had started there had been more and more things it was necessary to keep from him. I hated this war, hated the secrets it created.

There was also the nagging realization that what I was going to do for Pony was illegal, and if I were caught I would have a devil of a time explaining it to the police. Technically speaking, I hadn't broken the law since that night we had been "arrested" by Major Ramsey and drafted into service. I'd broken into Peter Varney's flat to retrieve Julia's letters, it was true, but I didn't count that as a crime, not when he was blackmailing her.

While I was justifying things, I supposed I could say that what I was doing tonight was a part of my work for Ramsey. In order to get the information we needed, I had agreed to do this favor for Pony. All the same, I felt doubts about it.

Not enough to back down, of course. Pony Peavey wasn't the sort of man you reneged on an agreement with.

I would be very glad indeed to close the books on my dealings with Pony Peavey. It wasn't just that the man had a bad reputation, even among criminals. It was that I had finally begun to acknowledge that I might be ready to walk away from my life of crime.

It had been a scary thought when it first began blooming in my mind at the beginning of all of this, the idea I might diverge from the family business into a more law-abiding career when the war was over. But now I was almost certain that I could not go back to being a thief. It wasn't just Ramsey—though, admittedly, he was part of it. His dismissal of my past had reminded me that my future was entirely up to me, that my own choices determined what kind of woman I was. Whether or not Ramsey would be a part of that future, I was a different person now than when the war had begun.

Uncle Mick would, I knew, support me in this decision as he had always supported me in whatever I did. In fact, it would probably be a relief to him that I wanted to go straight.

There was still the matter of my father to be resolved, of course. Perhaps I would tell Ramsey the truth, after all. He had said my family history didn't matter to him, and I believed him. He wouldn't hold whatever my father might have done against me. It was also possible he would be able to find out something about my father's movements during the Great War, whether or not he had been suspected at the time of espionage activities. I could tell him about the Chambers Flower Shop and show him the letter to see what he might make of it. To my surprise, I felt the weight of the secret lift at just the thought of confiding in him.

A cold gust of wind blew flecks of icy snow into my face, drawing me back to the present. I had better focus on this job. There would be time for daydreaming about Ramsey later.

The fellow accompanying me gave his name as Bert, and he seemed to speak mainly in monosyllables. He didn't even say many of those as we took the Tube to Pimlico and then walked to a street consisting mainly of office buildings. It was fairly quiet at this time of evening. There was never any knowing when the Germans would decide to pay us another visit, and only idiots hung around in places they didn't have to. Idiots and people who were up to no good.

Bert motioned me to the back of an office building, where there was a door set into the brick wall. I glanced at the doorknob. It was standard stuff, wouldn't take me more than a minute or two.

"No guards in this building?" I asked as I took my tool kit out of my pocket.

"No."

I worked the back door open with no trouble, and in a blink, we were both slipping inside the dark building. I closed the door behind us.

Bert took a torch from his pocket and flipped it on. Then he led the way. He'd cased the building beforehand, that much was clear. He knew exactly where we were going and moved ahead without hesitation. Well, so much the better. It made things easier for me. I would be relieved to have this job over and done with.

We took a dark stairwell rather than the lift and then went down a long, dark hall. I walked silently as I had been trained to do, but Bert's footsteps echoed in the quiet. I hoped his confidence in the emptiness of the building was not misplaced.

He stopped at the second door from the end. "This one."

Again, I went to work on the door. I was surprised Pony hadn't had someone capable of doing this easy sort of work. Surely he knew a lockpick or two. Then again, I owed him and he didn't have to pay me. Besides, we McDonnells were known for our ability to get in and out without leaving a trace. Less experienced lockpicks might leave telltale scratches to show someone had broken in.

If they were going to tap his phone calls, it made sense they'd want not even the smallest hint that someone had been here.

The office door, too, was the work of only a minute, and then the lock clicked.

"Wait here," Bert told me.

I was glad to. I had no desire to wait in the dark office with him while he did whatever he needed to do to the telephone. Besides, it felt a bit less illegal on my part to not actually enter the office.

I didn't know anything about tapping into someone's telephone wires, and I had no idea how long it would take.

I wondered what sort of information Pony might be collecting and what he might use it for. A momentary and unaccustomed sensation of guilt assailed me at what I was helping him do, but I pushed it down. Like Julia, I'd been forced to do a bad thing for a good reason. When it was over, I would put it all behind me.

The minutes stretched. I could hear Bert moving quietly around inside, hear the occasional movement of his tools. And then he was back in the doorway.

"Done," he said.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I relocked the door, and we made our way from the building.

We parted ways outside, and I was glad to start back toward Hendon on my own.

As I sank into my seat on the Tube, I breathed a sigh of relief. With any luck, the last of my criminal days were now behind me. Frank Doyle and Pony Peavey had both called in their markers, and now my debts were paid. I could begin again with a clean slate.