Trouble in Paradise (12 page)

“Many have their faults, including the fact that they often have difficulty following directions, but their skills are far more beneficial than their faults are harmful.”

We came toward a big double door. Directly in front stood two soldiers, rifles on their shoulders. They saluted sharply as we stopped. My father returned their salute, although I suspected it was Little Bill they were really saluting.

“Behind these doors is what we call Room 99. It is the most secure place in this entire facility, where the most important operatives are undertaking incredibly secret and important work. This is, of course, where your mother works.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE GUARD OPENED THE DOOR
and we walked in. It was a gigantic room and the entire space was filled with desks and tables and chairs, and it seemed each spot was occupied, in almost all cases by a woman. Everyone was working so intently that no one even looked up. We walked around the room and I looked down at the tables as we passed. There were letters on each desk and they were being closely examined. Some of the women were using gigantic magnifying glasses.

“The most significant letters and parcels found in the mail are brought to this room,” Little Bill said.

“What makes one letter different from any of the others?” my father asked.

“Addresses are often the key. Certain addresses belong to known Nazi agents or sympathizers, and some general destinations are places of high enemy activity,” Little Bill said.

“Like Spain?” I asked.

“Yes … but how do you know that?” He looked at my mother.

“I would never tell him or anybody that,” she said.

“I just know,” I said. “It was in one of those newsreels that they show at the movies. There was something about Barcelona … and some place in South America … maybe Argentina.”

“Yes, those are areas of high enemy activity. George, I don’t know why I ever question what you know,” Little Bill said. “Those letters or parcels with specific key indicators are secretly opened and searched for codes, secret writing, invisible writing or microdots.”

“What’s a microdot?” I asked.

“Let’s see if I can show you.” He looked around the room. “Can I have your attention, please?” Little Bill called out.

People stopped working and looked up.

“Is anybody presently assessing a microdot?” Little Bill asked.

A woman raised her hand. “I have one.”

We walked over to her desk. She was holding a letter under one of those gigantic magnifying glasses. “Third line from the bottom, the punctuation at the end of the sentence,” she said, passing her magnifying glass to Little Bill.

He leaned over the letter.

“Here, look here,” he said.

Jack and I almost bumped heads trying to look. Jack backed away.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

“The period at the end of the sentence.”

I scanned the line until I reached the end of the sentence and looked at the period. It was a period. So what? Did he think it should have been a question mark or— There was something about it … it wasn’t completely black … there were tiny, almost unnoticeable gaps, little white spaces and— “Is there a word printed on the period?” I asked.

“Not
a
word.
Many
words.… How many?” he asked the woman.

“Twenty or twenty-five,” she said. “It’s describing the—”

“You can put that in your report,” Little Bill said, cutting her off.

He suddenly turned on his heel and walked away. We followed. He stopped at an empty desk—what might be the only empty desk in the room.

“This is your mother’s workstation.”

The top of the desk held nothing but a little basket, at the top right corner, with letters in it.

“I originally thought your mother could be a trapper,” he said. “Those are the people, usually women, who are able to remove the contents and put them back, without
the envelope showing any sign of tampering. And she was very good at that.”

“But she doesn’t do that now?” I said.

“We found she had an incredible talent for deciphering secret codes.”

“Like Ireland?” I asked.

“What is Ireland?” my father questioned.

“It is a code where the first letter of each word forms a message. Very simple,” he said. “But your wife has the ability to look at a letter, or the transcript of a radio message or what looks like a random series of numbers and letters and see patterns that most people can’t see. I can’t explain it.”

“Neither can I,” she said.

“It just seems to be a talent that some people possess,” Little Bill said. “Often those people are math professors, or people who write or read mystery novels, or those who are very adept at crossword puzzles or playing Scrabble.”

“She’s unbeatable in Scrabble!” my father said. “I won’t even play with her any more.”

“My guess is that she should play with George instead,” Little Bill said.

“Me?”

“Have you ever played Scrabble, George?” Little Bill asked.

“No, never.”

He turned to my mother. “Try playing with George. I think he might put up a good game … of course, I could be wrong.”

I felt like asking when, but I kept quiet.

“Now, let me show you the rest of the operations based here at the hotel. They include monitoring and decoding radio signals, the counter-espionage team, those responsible for tracking U-boats, the forgers and …” He stopped mid-sentence. “But first I think I should tell you what I am proposing for your family.”

In the excitement of seeing and hearing everything, it had temporarily slipped my mind. That was the most important thing—what was going to happen to us?

“Perhaps we should go back to my office and—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. I needed to know the answer right away.

Little Bill looked surprised. My father looked shocked.

My mother spoke up. “George, where are your manners? You apologize immediately!”

I realized I’d crossed the line. I opened my mouth and—

“George is right,” Little Bill said. “I should have started with that information … it would have been more considerate of your situation. Let’s just step out into the hall.”

We exited through the big doors back into the hall. There was a grouping of wingback chairs in a small alcove
overlooking the bay. Little Bill led us there and gestured that we should sit down. He stayed standing.

“You need to know that your mother’s role is so
vital
that we cannot afford to allow her to be reassigned,” Little Bill said.

That was good … or was it? Just because my mother had to stay on the island didn’t mean that my father did. Or us, for that matter.

I was almost afraid to ask, but … “What about my father?”

“Yes, that is something we need to discuss.” He looked at my father. “As of oh nine hundred hours this morning, you have been relieved of your duty at the dockyard and have been reassigned.”

I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. “Where … where is he going?” I asked. Was he being sent off the island or back to Africa or to Europe or—?

“Starting tomorrow, your father will be second-in-command of the detachment stationed at The Princess Louise Hotel.”

I laughed out loud!

“That way he will be able to keep an eye on his wife … and everybody else here,” Little Bill said. “I hope you approve of your new assignment.”

“But what about the dockyards? That’s an important position, a
vital
position,” my father said.

“As is this. What transpires here is absolutely critical to the war effort, and we need to know that security will remain intact. This is an even more important position, and I can think of no better man to fulfill the role—someone who can keep a cool head in times of crisis. Do you accept the challenge?”

My father nodded his head and smiled slightly.

My mother reached out and took his hand, and they both smiled. Jack was smiling. I was smiling. This couldn’t have worked out any better.

“Now, we have to discuss what will happen with your boys,” Little Bill said.

I started. “Us? What about us?”

“I think we need to make some changes,” Little Bill went on, “and I wish to discuss that with you two as their parents.”

Jack got to his feet. “Nothing is going to happen to us without—”

“Without the permission of your parents,” Little Bill said, cutting Jack off. “Sit down, please.”

Jack hesitated for a split second as though he was going to argue, but he settled back into his chair.

“In the past it was necessary, unfortunately, for your boys to be involved in things without your permission and without your knowledge. Now, however, we not only can, but
should
, have parental permission.”

“What are you suggesting?” my father asked.

“I would like to employ the boys here at the hotel,” Little Bill said.

“You want
us
to work here?” I gasped.

“They can’t work here. They have to go to school!” my mother exclaimed.

“Yes, I have to agree with my wife,” my father said.

“I am proposing that they do both. They would work here an occasional evening and sometimes on the weekend,” Little Bill said.

“We could do that,” Jack said.

“Yeah, we could,” I agreed.

“And we would insist that they maintain high standards at school,” Little Bill said. “Should we insist on a B average as a minimum?”

“But that’s better than I usually get!” Jack objected.

“Then maybe it is time to
raise
your average,” Little Bill suggested.

“I agree,” my mother said. “A B average is the acceptable minimum.”

“Do you think you can do that?” my father asked Jack.

Jack let out a sigh. “If I have to, I can.”

“If he can’t and I can, can I still work here?” I asked.

My parents laughed, and Jack shot me a look that could kill.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Little Bill said. “There are also other conditions. We would
expect you both to continue with activities expected of young people, to allay suspicion. You will remain on the rugby team … by the way, excellent game last week, Jack.”

“Thanks,” Jack replied. “But how did …?”

He let the sentence trail off. Of course,
God
knew everything.

“And, George, for being among the youngest players on the pitch, you show great spirit and bravery.”

I nodded. What could happen to me in a rugby game that could compare to what had happened to me in real life? Nobody on the rugby pitch carried a gun.

“Have you seen us play?” Jack asked.

Little Bill smiled. “A few minutes, perhaps a quarter of a game. It is also important that you continue to have friends of your own age. Louise, for example.”

“Who is Louise?” my father asked.

Jack blushed. “She’s a girl.”

“I didn’t think she was a bird,” my father said.

“Perhaps your
girlfriend
could come to the house for dinner one night?” my mother suggested.

Jack looked incredibly embarrassed and stared at the floor.

“Are the conditions we’ve outlined acceptable? Would it be all right for your boys to spend time working at the hotel?” Little Bill asked then.

Jack and I looked at our parents, and they looked at each other. I wanted to will them into saying yes, because they didn’t look completely convinced.

“I assure you that all of their activities will be
within
the hotel. There will be no assignments outside of the facility,” Little Bill added.

“Well …” my father said.

“And with the security we have here, including yourself as second-in-command, there is virtually no safer place on the island.”

“That’s a point,” my father agreed.

“But what will they be doing?” my mother asked.

Good question. Would we be reading letters, checking for secret codes, looking for enemy agents?

“Mainly they’ll be moving mailbags, sweeping, emptying the garbage cans and—”

“You want us to empty garbage cans?” Jack asked.

Little Bill furrowed his brow. “What did you think you would be doing?”

“I don’t know … stuff. You said we had special skills.”

I nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“There is no argument about that. The only question is this: should we be employing young people to exercise those skills?” Little Bill said.

“I don’t think so, if my opinion counts for anything,” my father said.

“It counts for
everything,”
Little Bill said. “That and the opinion of your wife.”

“I agree with my husband.”

“But, Mom, we should—”

Jack was silenced by a look from our father.

“Then that is what you will be doing here. You must remember that all people employed here, regardless of their job, are helping the war effort. But if you don’t want to—”

“We’ll do whatever you want us to do!” I exclaimed, cutting him off. “That is, if we’re allowed to.”

“I think that would be all right,” my father said.

“But those marks had better stay high,” our mother warned.

“They will!” Jack said. “I promise.”

Our mother smiled. “When do you want them to start?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“COULD YOU PLEASE
pass the vegetables?” Louise said.

“Certainly,” my mother said as she flashed a big smile at her.

My mother loved manners, and Louise had enough good manners for four people. Actually her manners made me kind of nervous. I was afraid to burp, and I’d tried really, really hard not to slurp my soup.

“It is so nice to be part of a family meal,” Louise said. “Not that Mrs. Farrow isn’t a wonderful person—she’s very nice—it’s just different being with a family.”

“It’s very nice for us to be together,” my mother said. She reached out and squeezed both my hand and Jack’s.

Jack turned a little red and squirmed slightly in his seat. I figured Mom wasn’t the person he wanted holding his hand.

“I know it’s hard to be away from home,” our father said. “I must be the luckiest man in the whole army to
be able to go home each night to have dinner with my family.”

“We’re pretty lucky ourselves,” our mother said. She released our hands—Jack quickly drew his away and under the table as Mom gave Dad a big, warm smile.