She watched the warehouse from across the street, a light cold rain falling. She wore trousers, sweater, and a leather coat. The doors of the warehouse were pulled back, and three heavy lorries rumbled out into the street. A pair of well-dressed men pulled them shut quickly, but not before Catherine caught a glimpse inside. It was a beehive of activity.
A knot of dockworkers walked past her, coming off the day shift. She dropped in a few paces behind them and walked toward the Pope warehouse.
There was a small gate with an electric buzzer for deliveries. She pressed it, received no answer, and pressed it again. Catherine felt she was being watched. Finally the gate drew back.
"What can we do for you, luv?" The pleasant Cockney voice did not match the figure before her. He stood well over six feet tall, with black hair cropped close to his skull and small spectacles. He wore an expensive gray suit with a white shirt and silver tie. The muscles of his upper arms filled out the sleeves of the jacket.
"I'd like to speak to Mr. Pope, please." Catherine handed the hulk the note. He read quickly, as though he had seen many of them before.
"I'll ask the boss if he has a minute to see you. Come inside."
Catherine stepped through the gate, and he closed it behind her.
"Hands above your head, darling, that's a good girl. Nothing personal. Mr. Pope requires it of everyone." Pope's man patted her down. It was brisk and not very professional. She cringed as he ran his hands over her breasts. She resisted an impulse to crush his nose with her elbow. He opened her handbag, glanced inside, and handed it back. She had expected this so she had come unarmed. She felt naked without a weapon, vulnerable. Next time she would bring a stiletto.
He led her through the warehouse. Men dressed in overalls were loading crates of goods into half a dozen vans. At the far end of the warehouse boxes stood floor to ceiling on wooden pallets: coffee, cigarettes, sugar, as well as barrels of petrol. There was a fleet of shining motorbikes parked in a neat row. Vernon Pope was obviously doing a brisk business.
"This way, luv," he said. "Name's Dicky, by the way." He led her into a freight lift, pulled shut the doors, and pressed the button. Catherine reached into her purse for a cigarette and stuck it between her lips.
"Sorry, darling," said Dicky, waving a finger in disapproval. "The boss hates fags. Says one day we're going to find out they're killing us. Besides, there's enough petrol and ammunition in this place to blow us clear to Glasgow."
"That's some favor," Vernon Pope said. He rose from his comfortable leather sofa and roamed his office. It was not just an office but more like a small flat, with a seating area and a kitchen filled with modern appliances. There was a bedroom behind a pair of black teak doors. They parted briefly and Catherine spotted a drowsy blonde waiting impatiently for the meeting to conclude. Pope poured himself another whisky. He was tall and handsome, with pale skin, fair brilliantined hair, wintry gray eyes. His suit was carefully tailored and circumspect; it might have been worn by a successful executive or someone born to wealth.
"Can you imagine that, Robert? Catherine here actually wants us to spend three days chasing an American naval officer around the West End."
Robert Pope remained at the fringes, pacing like a skittish gray wolf.
"That's not really our line of work, Catherine darling," Vernon Pope said. "Besides, what if the Yank or British security boys catch on to our little game? The London police I deal with. MI-Five is another story."
Catherine withdrew a cigarette. "Do you mind?"
"If you must. Dicky, give her an ashtray."
Catherine lit the cigarette and smoked quietly for a moment. "I've seen the equipment you have downstairs in your warehouse. You could easily mount the kind of surveillance operation I'm talking about."
"And why in the world would a volunteer nurse from St. Thomas Hospital want to mount a surveillance operation on an Allied officer, Robert, I ask you?"
Robert Pope knew he was not expected to provide an answer. Vernon Pope moved to the window, drink cupped in his hand. The blackout curtains were raised, giving him a view of the boats working up and down the river. "Look at what the Germans have done to this place," he said finally. "Used to be the center of the world, the biggest port on the face of the earth. And now look at it: a bloody waste-land. Things will never be the same around here. You're not working for the Germans, are you, Catherine?"
"Of course not," she said calmly. "My reasons for following him are strictly personal."
"Good. I'm a thief but I'm still a patriot." He paused, then asked, "So why do you want him followed?"
"I'm offering you a job, Mr. Pope. Frankly, the reasons why are none of your business."
Pope turned around and faced her. "Very good, Catherine. You've got guts. I like that. Besides, you'd be a fool to tell me."
The bedroom doors parted and the blonde emerged, wearing a man's paisley silk robe. It was tied loosely at the waist, revealing a good pair of legs and small upturned breasts.
"Vivie, we're not finished yet," Pope said.
"I was thirsty." She glanced at Catherine while pouring herself a gin and tonic. "How much longer are you going to be, Vernon?"
"Not long. Business, darling. Back in the bedroom."
Vivie moved back to the bedroom, hips flowing beneath the gown. She threw another glance at Catherine over her shoulder before softly closing the door.
"Pretty girl," Catherine said. "You're a lucky man."
Vernon Pope laughed quietly and shook his head. "Sometimes I wish I could bestow some of my luck on another man."
There was a long silence while Pope paced the room. "I'm into a lot of shady things, Catherine, but I don't like this. I don't like it one little bit."
Catherine lit another cigarette. Maybe she had made a mistake by approaching Vernon Pope with the offer.
"But I'm going to do it. You helped my brother, and I made you a promise. I'm a man of my word." He paused, looking her up and down. "Besides, there's something about you you I like. Very much." I like. Very much."
"I'm glad we can do business together, Mr. Pope."
"It's going to cost you, luv. I've got a lot of overhead. I've got wages to pay. This kind of thing is going to take a good deal of my resources."
"That's why I came to you." Catherine reached inside her purse and withdrew an envelope. "How does two hundred pounds sound? One hundred now, one hundred on delivery of the information. I want Commander Jordan followed for seventy-two hours, twenty-four hours a day. I want a minute-by-minute accounting of his movements. I want to know where he eats, who he meets with, and what they talk about. I want to know if he's seeing any women. Can you manage that, Mr. Pope?"
"Of course."
"Good. Then I'll contact you on Saturday."
"How can I reach you?"
"Actually, you can't."
Catherine laid the envelope on the table and got to her feet.
Vernon Pope smiled pleasantly. "I thought you would say that. Dicky, show Catherine the way out. Put together a bag of groceries for her. Some coffee, some sugar, maybe a little tinned beef if that shipment came in. Something nice, Dicky."
"I have a bad feeling about this one, Vernon," Robert Pope said. "Maybe we should drop the whole thing."
Vernon Pope hated to be questioned by his younger brother. As far as Vernon was concerned, he made the business decisions and Robert handled the muscle.
"It's nothing we can't handle. Did you have her followed?"
"Dicky and the boys picked her up as she left the warehouse."
"Good. I want to know who that woman is and what she's playing at."
"Maybe we could turn this to our advantage. We could buy ourselves some goodwill with the police if we quietly tell them what she's up to."
"We'll do nothing of the kind. Is that clear?"
"Maybe you should think a little more about business and a little less about getting it wet."
Vernon turned on him and grabbed him by the throat. "What I do is none of your goddamned business. Besides, it's a helluva lot better than what you and Dicky do."
Robert visibly reddened.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Robert? You think I don't know what goes on?"
Vernon released his grip.
"Now get out on the street where you belong and make sure Dicky doesn't lose her."
Catherine spotted the tail two minutes after leaving the warehouse. She had expected it. Men like Vernon Pope don't stay in business long unless they are cautious and suspicious. But the tail was clumsy and amateurish. After all, Dicky had been the one who had greeted her, searched her, and taken her inside. She knew his face. Stupid of them to put him on the street to follow her. Losing him would be easy.
She ducked into an underground station, melting into the evening crowds. She crossed through the tunnel and emerged on the other side of the street. A bus was waiting. She boarded it and found a seat next to an elderly woman. Through the fogged window she watched Dicky charge up the stairs into the street, panic on his face.
She felt a little sorry for him. Poor Dicky was no match for a professional, and Vernon Pope would be furious. She would take no chances: a taxi ride, two or three more buses, a stroll through the West End before returning to her flat.
For now she settled into her seat and enjoyed the ride.
The bedroom was dark when Vernon Pope entered and quietly closed the doors. Vivie rose to her knees at the end of the bed. Vernon kissed her deeply. He was being rougher than usual. Vivie thought she knew why. She slid her hand down the front of his trousers. "Oh, my God, Vernon. Is this for me or that bitch?"
Vernon parted the silk robe and pushed it down over her shoulders. "A little of both, I'm afraid," he said, kissing her again.
"You wanted her right there in the office. I could see it on your face."
"You always were a perceptive little girl."
She kissed him again. "When is she coming back?"
"End of the week."
"What's her name?"
"Calls herself Catherine."
"Catherine," Vivie said. "What a lovely name. She's beautiful."
"Yes," Pope said distantly.
"What kind of business is she into?"
Pope told her about the meeting; there were no secrets between them.
"Sounds a bit touchy. I think we could bring a good bit of leverage to bear on her."
"You're a very smart girl."
"No, just a very nasty girl."
"Vivie, I can tell when your mind is working in evil ways."
She laughed wickedly. "I have three days to dream up all the wonderful things we can do to that woman when she comes back. Now, take off your pants so I can help ease your pain."
Vernon Pope did as he was told.
A moment later there was a soft knock at the door. Robert Pope stepped inside without waiting for an answer. A shaft of light partially illuminated the scene. Vivie looked up, unashamed, and smiled. Vernon exploded in anger.
"How many times have I told you not to come in here when the door is closed?"
"It's important. She got away from us."
"How in the hell did that happen?"
"Dicky swears she was there one minute and gone the next. She just vanished."
"For Christ's sake!"
"No one gets away from Dicky. She's obviously a professional. We ought to stay as far away from her as possible."
Vivie felt a stab of panic.
"Get out of here and close the door, Robert."
When Robert was gone, Vivie licked Vernon playfully.
"You're not going to take that little queer's advice, are you, Vernon?"
"Of course not."
"Good," she said. "Now, where were we?"
"Oh, my God," Vernon groaned.