The Restoration Garden: A Novel - 18

Irene

“Calm down, you fool,” Roger hissed in my ear as I thrashed and fought against him. He dug his fingers into my flesh until I nearly crumpled in pain. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Let me go,” I begged. We were tucked inside an alley, covered by the utter darkness of the blackout, with no one to hear me. The wail of the air raid sirens drowned out the sound of screams.

The release of his hands was so sudden and unexpected, I didn’t think to run. I froze in terror like a cornered rabbit, pressed against the brick wall.

Roger towered over me, broad shoulders like a cage. “You need to come with me. I would prefer if I didn’t have to force you to be quiet about it.”

The threat wasn’t lost on me. He would hurt me without a second’s hesitation. But I refused to cower. “Why should I do anything you want?”

He didn’t say anything, but the pistol he pulled out of his pocket spoke loudly enough. He nudged me forward to a parked car with the butt of his weapon. With the pistol still firmly pointed in my direction, he opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

The fear that invaded my senses was unlike anything I’d felt before. It chilled my blood and turned the air in my lungs to ice. I knew that nothing good would happen if I listened to him, but I was too afraid to find out what would happen if I didn’t.

The windows of the car were darkened. Roger got into the driver’s seat, then sped off with no caution despite the darkness. A bright flash of orange crested over the sky before the sound of an explosion rang out.

“They’re bombing London,” I said, my voice shaking with horror.

“It was only a matter of time,” Roger replied, his tone disturbingly flat.

It wasn’t just one bomb. Dozens fell in the distance, lighting up the sky with terrifying flashes. How many lives were being torn apart in that moment? How many homes obliterated? The questions crowded my mind, more paralyzing than my own fear. As Roger drove, the shock of it dulled my awareness of time or direction. I only knew that we’d arrived somewhere unfamiliar, a part of town I didn’t recognize. He parked on a narrow, unremarkable street and turned the ignition off.

“Out,” he instructed.

I tried to retain my composure as we entered a small apartment building, fighting the urge to limp from my sore ankle. Surely if Roger were going to kill me, it would be somewhere far from London, not somewhere like this. Somewhere with regular people sleeping next door who would wake up to the sound of a fight or notice a body being dragged off. At least, that was what I told myself as we bypassed the elevator for the stairwell.

My body shook from exhaustion as we climbed the flight of stairs before he finally led me to a door. Inside was a tiny flat with only a ratty brown sofa and a single dining chair in the room. No art. No personal effects. No signs of anyone actually living here.

“Sit,” Roger ordered, angling his head toward the sofa.

My legs were too shaky to argue. I collapsed onto the sofa. Roger pulled a yellow ribbon from his pocket and tossed it onto my lap—the same one I had bought for Margaret weeks ago.

“You were the one following me that day.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been following you from the day you set foot in London.”

The gravity of my situation finally overwhelmed me. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

Roger sat across from me on the chair, one ankle draped casually over his knee, smoking a cigarette as he watched me. “I didn’t take you for a crier.”

“I didn’t take you for a kidnapper,” I shot back.

“Yes, you did. You’ve been wary of me from the moment we met.”

“My instinct for bullies is never wrong.”

“In this case, it was.” He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m not your enemy. In fact, I’m the only thing standing between you and a prison cell at the moment.”

I tried to swallow my reaction, but my throat was as dry as tinder. “What do you mean?”

He blew out a puff of cigarette smoke. “I know you told James about your father’s work with the Committee for the Scientific Study of Air Defence.”

I froze, my breath folding in on itself. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked like I’d amused him. “When James was arrested, he was found to be in possession of a number of classified documents.”

“Maps,” I said. “He told me they were maps of Britain. He was trying to predict where the next attacks would be.”

“I’ve no doubt he’s arrogant enough to believe he could manage that better than the entirety of Britain’s military intelligence. But he had far more than just maps in his possession.”

Bile rose in my throat. “If that’s true, why was he released without charges?”

“Money and influence have always had a way of determining innocence. MI5 has been watching James for almost five years. His sympathies for the fascist movement have been known since he was a student at university.”

“You’re MI5.”

He nodded.

I exhaled slowly, the pieces of this awful puzzle finally clicking together. “All this time you’ve been watching him, while claiming to be his friend.”

“If you expect me to offer any remorse for that, you’ll be sorely disappointed. Having a personal connection to James has made it easier to uncover some of his activities.”

“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, cigarette ash falling to the floor. “Among the documents we found in James’s possession were details of a technology that has the potential to render the German air force impotent. A device that would allow our planes to be equipped with radar technology. But in the hands of the enemy, it would give them an unprecedented advantage. Do you know what it was called?”

A chill fell over me.

“The cavity magnetron.” He stared down at me for an uncomfortable moment. “I see you do recognize it. That would put you in the company of only a handful of individuals in this country.”

“My father invented it.”

“Indeed, he did. But that doesn’t mean it belongs to him. It belongs to Britain. To the Committee for the Scientific Study of Air Defence. So why would a man like your father betray his country to give that information to James Atherton?”

“He didn’t!” I shouted before I could stop myself. The expression on his face was enough to make me realize the trap I had just walked into.

“Did your father make a habit of entrusting you with his scientific discoveries?”

I closed my eyes, cursing myself for being so stupid. “No. He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s meticulously careful to maintain secrecy.” But that wasn’t the whole truth. My father had been sloppy of late. The pressures and worry of his work, of Margaret’s health, and all the other responsibilities on his shoulders meant I had seen information I shouldn’t have. And despite all his warnings, I’d told James about the invention, too.

“You may be surprised to hear I agree with you.”

I frowned, confused by his admission. “You do?”

“Your father has spent over a decade working on behalf of the country, with not a single leak of information until James came into the picture. The only person who could be responsible for James’s knowledge of the technology is you.” He finally sat down once more, resting his forearms against his thighs so I had no choice but to meet his hardened gaze. “You have a chance to make this right, Irene. A chance not only to help your father, but your country as well.”

“What are you talking about?”

Somewhere outside in the distance, a car horn blared. Roger ran his thick fingers through his hair, mussing it into an untidy mess. “For all his faults, James is not a stupid man. He’s aware he’s being watched. We know he’s been gathering information about your father’s work, but we don’t know to what end or who he is working for. As close as I am to him, you are even closer.”

“You want me to spy on James?” The notion was so absurd I could barely wrap my head around it.

He smiled for the first time all evening. “Exactly.”

“But I’m not trained to be a spy. I have no idea what I’m doing. Surely you must have agents you could call on instead.”

“The fact you aren’t trained is the reason you’re perfect for the role. He’s been smart enough to realize he’s being watched since his arrest. He’ll be suspicious of anyone new that enters his orbit. You will gather information on his comings and goings. The names of anyone he meets. Books he’s reading. Packages he delivers. Strange patterns to his behavior. And every second Thursday at three p.m., you will meet me at a location of my choosing to deliver that information.”

“But what if James realizes what I’m doing? How will I hide it from him?”

“You’re a smart girl, Irene. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

His answer left me with a chill. What Roger was asking me to do was an impossible task. James was too cunning not to discover my betrayal, and too cruel not to lash out when he did. He’d been so charming when we first met, but tonight, beneath that composed exterior, I’d seen a side of him that terrified me.

I gathered my breath for one last question. “If I agree, what do I get out of this?”

Roger stubbed out his cigarette in a glass ashtray. “The chance to avoid spending the next twenty years in Holloway.”

Having seen James’s true nature, I wasn’t convinced of which was the better option. But I didn’t have a choice.