Keeping Secrets (37 page)

“He's pretty nice, really,” I said, looking at the pleasant countryside as we trundled along.

“Well just don't let him get the best of your good nature, that's all. Some employers really use their employees unfairly, especially where women are concerned. They know how hard it is for a young woman to make her way, and they seize on the opportunity to take advantage.”

Sometimes it works precisely the other way around, I thought.

Although the more we learned, the more was yet uncovered, we finally did resolve one baffling situation about the Cabot and Tetzel meetings. Cabot came by one afternoon shortly after Tetzel returned, and this time I made a point of knocking on the door to ask a question once they were in session. One glance at the credenza told me all I needed to know.

Cabot had a habit of tossing his wide-brimmed hat in the same spot every time he visited, right in front of the receiver planted and concealed so carefully by Edwin.

10

I had been back at my desk but a few days when headlines of the
Lusitania
explosion streaked like the tongues of angry dragons across the newspaper, and suddenly everyone became very concerned about the war in Europe.

People in the office were discussing it the Monday following the disaster, and beginning to talk for the first time of choosing sides. The Germans vowed that the British merchant ship was carrying munitions, so they had every right to bomb it. Also, and this was not to be denied no matter which side was taken by an individual, the passengers were warned before they boarded ship and sailed for the war zone. Eventually the whole incident would be diverted from the attention of the public by a mass of bureaucratic red tape, memos, and papers back and forth between the United States and Germany. Yet it held a sharp and lasting significance for me, though I knew no more about the tragedy than anyone else at the time.

A couple of weeks later I was visited by Michael Stobalt. It appeared that the most inexperienced spy on behalf of the BNA cause was suddenly placed in a position of crucial importance. He began in his clipped and precise phrases, “Miss Devera, the developments over the past few months are such that we feel it unfair to involve you any further unless you have a complete understanding of what dangers you might be facing and are willing to face them. I cannot make your decision for you, but a moral obligation forces me to outline the situation for you and warn you. If you wish to cease helping, it will be completely understood, and the facts you've uncovered for us to date already far exceed anything expected.”

I stared at him, wondering if he realized just how little I had really done.

“Through information you passed to us, we've been able to link certain shipments of copper from Cabot Consolidated Copper to destinations here in the States. We have certain proof that a large quantity has never left the country for points overseas.”

“But I thought Germany was in dire need of copper and other raw materials to fight the war—where's it been going?”

“You know of certain instances in the past of munitions ships in the New York harbor exploding, and you will remember I explained to you in the beginning we knew that German sabotage was responsible for the planning of this sort of activity.

“Now we've been able to link copper going from Mexico to points where it is used in the making of several types of explosives, including old-fashioned clockwork—time—bombs, and just lately an incendiary bomb which is small yet lethal, and cigar-shaped, called a pencil bomb. These small bombs are equipped with time devices and are easily slipped into hidden places aboard ships headed for Allied countries, hours, or even days before detonation.

“We know that Adolph Tetzel has been responsible for the supply of much of the copper used in the making of such explosives.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I whistled under my breath.

“We have reason to believe that, contrary to information given to the public, it is almost a certainty that two of the time bombs—somewhat unreliable but more frequently used until recently—were placed on board the
Lusitania
before she sailed from New York harbor.

“But the papers said—”

“I know, and still we have no proof—perhaps we never will. However, the fact remains that we have a definite link between Tetzel and explosives, which we have suspected for some time, not to mention his services in spreading German propaganda in the States and aiding in the plot to return Victoriano Huerta to power in Mexico.”

“But you know he was against Huerta, in favor of the man named Barrista.”

“Yes—part of the puzzle as yet unsolved.”

“Couldn't he be picked up, then? That would be sure to scuttle the deal with Barrista.”

“Not necessarily.”

“But isn't it wrong to go on letting the bombs be used?”

“We have managed to take measures to control them, at least for now.”

“So, what's left?”

“We do not know how directly Mr. Cabot is involved, nor how much he himself knows. And there is also a possibility his wife may have ties in Colorado which prove significant. To blow the whistle now would be to lose any opportunity for getting entirely to the bottom of activities being carried on among the German Foreign Office, Mexico, and the United States. In short, Cabot holds the key. Should we pick up Tetzel, he may well turn to other sources within the German secret agencies, may continue to carry on activities detrimental to Mexico and to the United States, and to the advantage of those in Germany who wish to use him and others like him.”

“Can't you pick up Cabot, too?”

“No, because there is no proof he was aware of the ultimate destination of his copper. Now, there is also the matter of the unnamed ‘third party' in Tetzel's correspondence.”

“So what happens next?”

“We intend to let the line out just a bit further on the plot to return Huerta to power, because we believe in-fighting among the German agents here in the States will eventually uncover more for us. Authorities can pick up Huerta any time before he actually crosses the border into Mexico, and manage to hold him.”

“What do you want from me?”

“If you decide to stay with us, you must redouble your efforts to find out more about this man Cabot, his wife, and his employee or employees. And if you can, discover a possible channel for written proof of Tetzel's activities from this end. So far he has been able to retain a link of some kind which protects him from holding much material which would be invaluable testimony to his espionage activities.”

I thought of the proverbially empty safe compartment and said, “So, nothing has really changed.”

“Nothing except that now we know the extent of Tetzel's activities is a great deal more far-reaching than we at first supposed. He may be a great deal more dangerous than we believed, may have lines open with persons much higher up in the German Foreign Office than we at first projected. He may be capable of deeds to which we would not want to subject you, Miss Devera.”

“You mean, like murder or something?” I asked, jokingly.

“Exactly,” he said. “It would be only too easy to rid himself of a young single woman, living alone in this large a city, should he become aware of your activities. You must know this risk is a very real one.”

Suddenly I began to believe his earnestness might be well founded. As I carefully laid a trap for Tetzel, leading him along as though on a leash, while bothered by feelings of guilt about what I was doing, I may instead have been laying my own trap.

“Well, what do you say? Or, would you like to think it over?”

“Who will be able to do what I'm doing? You can't pick Tetzel's secretary for him … it occurs to me now that it might have been my naïveté that convinced him to hire me.”

“Precisely.”

“Then if I go, you lose your grip on San Antonio—or at least your mainstay.”

“Yes.”

“I don't suppose there's really a choice. I've gone this far. I guess I'll stick by.”

His mouth relaxed into a smile, but his eyes expressed concern. “Do be careful, and stay in frequent touch with Edwin. Be cautious about creating dangerous situations for yourself, and go to him for advice whenever you are in the least doubtful. Good luck, Miss Devera.”

“Thanks. I've a feeling I'm going to need it.”

11

The following months were the roughest yet. Most of my time was spent in ferreting out the Cabots and Nathan Hope, and if anything of lasting value was gained, I suppose it was being forced to take a good, hard look at myself.

I discovered two strong parts of my nature that are absolutely contradictory, and caused me no end of grief all along. One is my initial trust and belief in the goodness of people, which I inherited from my father. This must be the worst property for anyone involved in espionage work, and has to be overcome constantly in order to succeed.

The other trait—being naturally inquisitive—proved quite an advantage. I believe this part of my make-up was largely subdued in the early months of shadowing Tetzel, because I was too inexperienced to let my instincts come forth, and too preoccupied with the mechanics of my work for the BNA to rely on my own initiative. After my meeting with Michael Stobalt, however, I began to get my bearings. Once I began my new task, I soon found myself staying awake nights preparing conversational hooks to get what information I needed. As time went on, my natural curiosity became compelling, and often I felt disgusted with myself for the way I used it.

While the Cabots were tough cases to unravel, I immediately recognized in Nathan someone unsteady, easily toppled, suffering from something acute which he tried desperately to hide. I have never met a more perplexing man.

Three weeks passed before I found an opportunity to meet him. Then one day Tetzel asked me to send for a mullet to deliver a sealed envelope to Cabot's office. Luckily, the noon hour was approaching. “I can take it by. I have to go down that way anyhow, to pick up some shoes at the cobbler,” I told him.

I whisked by my apartment and steamed open the envelope. The contents were three sheets of paper giving a rundown of Cabot's loan picture over the past three months, including interest accrued on several different notes. Unfortunately, time did not permit a trip to Sam's Print Shop, so I had to write down the most important figures I read. I was astounded to total up a balance due the bank in the amount of nearly four hundred thousand dollars. The paper showed a beginning balance of only around fifty thousand, and the rest had been transferred during the three-month period. The loan picture was drawn up by Tetzel's own hand, so apparently he had ordered Cabot's file from credit himself. This wasn't unusual. Often if I were busy on a project, he phoned downstairs for what he needed instead of bothering me.

I'd already used up thirty minutes, most of it awaiting the iron to heat up, so I hurried over to Commerce and walked into the Cabot office. I found Nathan Hope seated before a monstrous desk piled high with papers, staring at me through a thick pair of eyeglasses. I told him why I was there.

“Mr. Cabot is gone for the day, miss.”

“Well then, maybe I ought to take this to his home. I believe it's important.”

“Suit yourself.”

I hadn't expected this, figuring instead he'd offer to take the envelope himself. I stood on one foot then the other, trying to think of a reason for sticking around. Finally he asked me if I had further business.

“No … I've just always wanted to see what an important businessman's office looks like. You must be Nathan Hope. Mr. Tetzel says you are Mr. Cabot's right-hand man.”

“I work for him. It's that simple. Good day.”

“Well, you needn't be so abrupt.”

“I have work to do, as you can see. I don't mean to be unkind, but I have to get back to it. We—the Cabots live at Beauregard and Washington in the brick house on the river side. If you like, I could take the envelope home with me this evening.”

“You live with them?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then you must be awfully important.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “That's none of your business. Just leave the envelope, and—”

“I know, and go. All right then, I guess it's all right to be conceited when you work for a man like Mr. Cabot.”

I was amazed at being met so coldly, and decided I needed to retreat and consider a new tactic. Just as I neared the door, however, I thought of another angle. “Say, don't you ever break for lunch?”

“Hardly ever.”

“Well, you ought to. Your eyes are red. You could work better if you would give them a little rest.”

“Thanks for the advice. Good-bye, miss.”

“My name is Camille Devera. I'll come back tomorrow at twelve o'clock with sandwiches. We can sit out by the river somewhere.”

He turned around and picked up his pencil. It was probably a rebuff, but I took advantage of the fact he had not thrown me out headfirst. On the way back to the bank I began analyzing him. So he lived with his boss. That seemed a little funny, as he was obviously up into his twenties and more apt to have quarters of his own, not to mention a wife and family. And from all I could gather, he was a little touchy about that situation.

I decided keeping him on the defensive might be the best course. I would show up at noon the next day with sandwiches—this would be a real step beyond the call of duty, as I would have to get up fifteen minutes early to prepare a lunch, when ordinarily I didn't bother with that meal—and try to develop some kind of friendship with him.

When I presented myself with a basket under my arm the next day, he looked surprised and started to send me away. “Oh, but if you don't come it will hurt my feelings awfully,” I said with all the innocence I could feign.

He considered a few moments, then said, “Well, I
have
been here since six-thirty,” and pulled his coat off the hook. Walking toward the river I could sense he was ill at ease. A small man, he took quick, uneven steps. I had trouble falling into rhythm with him and was reminded of my first time on the dance floor at fifteen, trying to make the best of a waltz with a pimply-faced boy whose hands were warm and clammy. One thing you couldn't miss about Nathan, however, was his unusually tidy appearance from head to toe—every hair combed into place, fingernails so well manicured I was soon wishing for a pair of deep pockets in which to conceal mine. Even his shoes were as immaculate as my father's regulation army boots used to be.