“I planned for him to take over my business,” John’s father explained, “but he didn’t want it—almost broke my heart. But my other son, Norman, is doing a great job.”
“Why didn’t you want to continue your father’s work, son?” Donovan asked.
“It wasn’t for me.”
“It’s truly a shame, but John never wanted to become the captain of industry I groomed him to be. He wants to make his own way.”
“Can we talk about this later?” John said.
“Yes, perhaps that would be a better time. I’ll leave you men to talk.”
Donovan waited until John’s father was gone to begin. “Firstly, I just wanted to thank you for your service.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you know who I am, John?” Donovan’s tone left John in no doubt that he was military, yet he was wearing civilian clothes.
“I’m not sure, sir. I don’t want to make any presumptions. My father seemed eager for us to meet.”
“There’s a reason for that, son. I’m an old friend of your father’s. We served in the last war together, when you were a baby.”
“Why haven’t we met before, sir?”
“Your father and I lost touch for a while. We hadn’t seen each other in years, until we met at a dinner like this just before Christmas last year.” Donovan reached into his pocket for a cigarette case and offered one to John. When he declined, Donovan put them back in his pocket without lighting one for himself. “Your father told me about you, and your incredible exploits in service of our country. He told me you’re a true patriot.”
“That I am, sir.”
“You speak German too, don’t you, from your time over there?”
“We lived in Berlin for a few years back in the twenties, before things got too crazy. My father set up some factories over there.”
“How is your German now?”
“I might be a little rusty, but I’m fluent. I was my family’s translator for the first couple of years there. Pearl and Norman are older than me. They stayed in boarding school over here and came for the summers.”
“So why the Pacific when you’ve so many connections with Europe?”
“I just wanted to serve, sir. I knew that someone with my background would most likely be expected to join the officer elite. I knew that, but I wanted to—”
“You wanted to prove that you could get down and dirty, that you could serve with the other grunts.”
“I suppose you could put it that way, sir.”
“Have you heard of the Office of Strategic Services, the OSS?”
“I heard some things,” John said, now understanding the real reason he’d been summoned home. “I heard whispers about an agency set up for spies.”
“It’s more than that, but spying is a part of what we do. I set up the OSS last year to coalesce the various intelligence departments of the army, the navy, and the air force. Our job is to coordinate espionage activities behind enemy lines for all branches of the armed forces. We have more than ten thousand men and women working for us now.”
“What was in place before the OSS?”
“A few old ladies who looked after some filing cabinets at the War Department.”
John knew more than he’d revealed. He’d heard about “Wild Bill” and his pet project. It had just taken him a while to realize that was who he was talking to. The OSS was a place where the well connected could play at war. Donovan used his connections in the old-boy network to staff the agency, with the personnel recruited from Ivy League schools, prestigious law firms, and big banks. It appeared to be a club for a privileged caste John was trying to escape.
“We’re neck-deep in both conflicts right now. We have agents in the Pacific and behind enemy lines in Europe. These men and women volunteer to walk among the predators, with no reception committees, and often no safe houses or friends in the most hostile territory imaginable. These are the bravest, finest men and women in the armed forces, providing us with vital intelligence on a daily basis.”
A gray-haired woman in a black dress tapped Donovan on the shoulder, and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Donovan told her he’d see her in a few minutes, waiting until she’d gone to continue speaking. “This is a new type of war. The old days of arranging a fight in a field are long gone. This war is going to be won by the side who knows more about what the other guy is thinking, and who knows what he’s going to do before he does it.”
“Why are you telling me all these things, sir?”
“I’ve spoken to your father a lot over these last few months. His eyes light up with pride when he mentions your name. He told me he wanted to leave the reins of the family business to you, but you wanted something else. He also told me how you and your brother have fought since he took over.”
John wondered how much this man knew about him. There could be only one reason why Donovan was so curious.
“My father told you I didn’t approve of what my brother was doing with his business?”
“Among other things. We spoke about you at length. He said you weren’t as comfortable as your brother in this world.” Donovan gestured around the room. “I know you joined the marines because, deep down, you wanted to prove you could make it on your own. I know because I see myself in you. I was a lawyer before the last war, but I wanted more. I wanted to serve, but not just my country. I wanted to prove something to myself.”
The man’s magnetism was undeniable. He was soft spoken but carried an unquestionable authority.
“Do you think joining the OSS would be something you’d be interested in?”
“What kind of men are you looking for, sir?”
“I’m looking for a cat burglar with a conscience. I need a man who can work with his intelligence before his heart. I need someone who’s honest yet devious, inconspicuous yet audacious. I need someone who’s hot-blooded and cool, all at the same time.
“With your skillset and the manner in which you’ve already proven yourself in the field, I know you’d be an ideal fit for our organization.”
“I assume you’ve already been through my service records?”
“We’re meticulous, John. We have to be. Our role in this war is too important to be left to chance.”
John turned around. His father was forty feet away standing at the bar, drink in hand. Donovan was right—he did look proud.
The letter from Penelope came three months later when John was entrenched in OSS training in a park in rural Virginia masquerading as the Reich. The instructors were teaching him, and the other recruits, how to survive behind enemy lines. Without a training facility, the fledgling organization had taken over segments of Prince William Forest Park, turning former summer camps into secret training grounds. John was coming back from several nights with little sleep in the field. A hot shower and a bed seemed like luxury beyond measure. Mail call came, and he was handed a letter. The postmark on the envelope was from two weeks before. John sat on his bunk as he opened it. He hadn’t seen her in almost six weeks, had barely felt the lack of her. He knew what was coming before he opened it. He would have done the same in her position. He read the first two words of the letter and almost laughed. It was the ultimate cliché of war, and it was happening to him.
Dear John,
I met a man. A captain in the air force. I want to marry him. I’m asking you for a divorce as the last act of love between us. I don’t love you anymore. You’re not the man I married. I love someone else. Please help me leave you. Please do this for the love that we once shared. I know we’ll always care for one another. A love as strong as the one we shared never truly dies. But our time is done. You have another life now, separate from mine. Our souls are no longer joined, are no longer indivisible from another as they once were.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me, and grant me the divorce I need to leave you with my soul intact.
Sincerely,