Stealth

21

Stone awoke the following morning to see Felicity coming out of her bathroom adjusting her clothing. “Must flee,” she said. “I had a text a few minutes ago, and my presence is required in London.”

Stone rang Stan and asked him to transport her to the dock.

Felicity bent over and kissed his penis. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said to it.

“You are most welcome, as always,” Stone replied.

She kissed him lingeringly on the lips and departed.

Stone rang downstairs for breakfast.

Dame Felicity arrived in the little alley off Shaftesbury Avenue and pulled up to the steel door. As she stepped from her car the door opened, and the commissionaire greeted her. “Good morning, Director,” he said, giving her a little bow. “By the way,” he said, “your new deputy arrived yesterday.”

“So I’ve heard,” Felicity said. She took the elevator to the sixth floor and, noting the closed door at the end of the hallway, opened her own door and walked in. Her two secretaries rose and greeted her; Cartwright followed her into her office.

“Director,” she said, “Brigadier Fife-Simpson arrived yesterday and is waiting in his office to see you. Shall I summon him?”

“Not yet, my dear,” Felicity replied. “Not until I’ve thought of something for him to do. Do you have any ideas?”

“How much substance are we talking about?” Cartwright asked.

“Not very much.”

“I see. May I have a few minutes to think about that, ma’am?”

“Of course. Let me know when you’ve come up with something.”

As Cartwright reached her desk, her phone rang, and she picked it up. “Good morning, Director’s office.”

“This is Brigadier Fife-Simpson,” a gruff male voice said.

“Good morning, Brigadier. How may I help you?”

“I wish to see the director at the earliest possible moment.”

“The director is occupied at the moment and has a full schedule for today. Let me call you back when she can fit you in.”

“Right.” He hung up.

“Mrs. Green,” Cartwright said to the other secretary, “think of something for Fife-Simpson to do.”

“Go bugger himself, perhaps?” she replied.

“As much as I’d like to suggest that, perhaps not.”

“Oh, well. You asked.”

Mrs. Green had a thought. She rapped on the director’s door, was told to enter, and she entered. “I’ve had a thought, Director,” she said.

“Pray tell me.”

“Perhaps an inspection tour of some of our stations?”

“Primary stations, or secondary?”

“Perhaps both?”

“It’s a lovely thought,” Felicity said, “but he might twig to what we’re doing. However...” She thought for a moment. “Please get me Lance Cabot.”

“Of course, Director,” Mrs. Green said, smiling. She went back to her desk, placed the call, then announced to the director, “Mr. Cabot for you on the overseas line.”

Felicity picked up her phone. “Lance, how are you?” she asked brightly.

“Very well, thank you, Felicity. And you?”

“Oh, very well. Lance, are you acquainted with a Brigadier Roger Fife-Simpson?”

“I seem to recall a colonel by that name.”

“He’s been promoted.”

“Sort of a ramrod type?”

“That’s the one. He’s been appointed my new deputy.”

“Somehow I feel that you did not select him.”

“You might say that,” Felicity said. “He’ll be doing a bit of orientation with our outlying stations, as well as with our allies.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And I was wondering if one or more of your people might, ah, orient him for a week or so.”

“I expect I can find someone to handle that — someone I don’t like very much.”

“Ideal,” Felicity said. “May I have him arrive at Langley the day after tomorrow?”

“Certainly. I’ll be leaving that afternoon. I can see him in the morning, then hand him off to a minion.”

“How perfect,” Felicity said. “I’ll tell him to report to you at ten AM.”

“I’ll have staff accumulate some reading for him, then give him the ten-cent tour.”

“Wonderful. Are you coming my way?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Lance replied.

“May I entertain you at lunch?”

“That would be delightful. Thursday all right?”

“One o’clock at the Reform Club, then?”

“See you there.”

“Fly safely.” Felicity hung up and buzzed Cartwright. “I’ll see the brigadier now,” she said.

Fife-Simpson was started from a doze by a buzzing noise. It took a moment for him to realize that it was coming from his telephone, and he picked it up. “Yes?”

“Brigadier,” Cartwright said, “the director will see you now.” She hung up.

Fife-Simpson leapt to his feet, got into his suit jacket, checked the mirror on the back of the door, then trotted down the hall. He was shown into the director’s office immediately.

“Good morning, Brigadier,” Felicity said, indicating that he should sit.

“Good morning, Director,” he said, taking the chair opposite her.

“First of all, may I welcome you to the service?”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I have a task for you, which I believe you will find enlightening. It’s the sort of thing I would ordinarily do myself, but I find myself a little overwhelmed at the moment.”

“Whatever I can do, Director.”

“Good. Pack a bag and present yourself, at ten o’clock in the morning the day after tomorrow in Langley, Virginia, to Lance Cabot, the director of central intelligence, at CIA headquarters.”

Fife-Simpson sat up straighter. “And what am I to do there?”

“You are to look and listen, ask questions, and, if necessary, answer some, from a selection of the Agency’s people, with an eye toward assessing the current relationship between the CIA and our service, and looking for ways to improve it. Stay as long as you need to, and on return, write a report summarizing your observations and your suggestions, for my eyes only. I may see fit to distribute it to a short list of our people at a later date.”

“I’d be very happy to, ma’am,” he said.

“And while you’re over there, pop into our embassy in Washington, pay your respects to the ambassador, and have a talk with our station chief and his deputy. Find out what they’re working on, and see what, if anything, they need to do their work better.”

“How long should I stay, Director?”

“As long as it takes. Cartwright will arrange your schedule and book your airline seat and hotel accommodations. You should probably stay in D.C., since Langley is in a more rural setting.”

The brigadier stood and nearly saluted, but caught himself. “Thank you, Director. I’ll report upon return.”

“Very good, Brigadier,” she said, then turned to open a file and gaze at it, dismissing him.

Fife-Simpson marched out. Felicity breathed a sigh of relief.