James Benn: Billy Boyle

“William, first let me say that I’m glad you’re not hurt, and that you are back with us,” Uncle Ike began. I nodded, too nervous to get a word out. It was swell that my own relative was glad I wasn’t dead. I couldn’t really expect more than that. I put both hands on the table to keep them from shaking.

“Having said that, there are some very serious charges leveled at you, and we need to get to the bottom of them. These issues go beyond your personal desire for revenge, or justice, or whatever misguided emotion led you to take these steps in the first place.”

He ground out his cigarette and didn’t say anything: my invitation to explain myself.

“I… I’m sorry, General.” I managed to sputter out the words. “I didn’t think this would involve you. I know I’m going to be punished, sir, but I don’t want any blame to fall on you.”

“That’s very considerate, William, but everything here involves me. Especially when one of my officers, privy to invasion plans, goes off on his own behind enemy lines.”

Uncle Ike sat back, lit another cigarette, and nodded to Major Harding. Harding opened a folder with a red tab and consulted it.

“Lieutenant Boyle, we understand that with the help of Captain Jens Iversen, you doctored legitimate orders signed by me and Major Cosgrove, to provide yourself with transportation to Norway for the purpose of pursuing Rolf Kayser. Correct?”

“Essentially, sir, except that Jens had nothing to do with it. I retyped the orders myself.”

“Don’t bother, young man,” Cosgrove said huffily. “We have a signed statement from that officer.” He pushed a sheet of paper over to me. He was right.

“As you say, sir.”

“And you tracked down Rolf Kayser at a rendezvous he had planned with Major Anders Arnesen?”

“Sort of, sir. I got there first and waited for him at a hut. With Anders.” They looked at each other. Uncle Ike raised an eyebrow, Cosgrove harrumphed, and Harding nodded slowly. What the hell did all that mean?

“Tell us what happened there,” said Harding, as he scribbled a note in the folder. Evidence for the prosecution.

“I told Anders that Rolf was Birkeland’s murderer and Daphne’s, too, and described the photographic evidence Kaz had found. We came up with a plan to capture him. Anders wanted me to take him alive so Rolf could give him some information he needed about the Underground Army. We planned a trap. We switched uniforms so I could get Rolf to follow me into the hut, where we could nab him.”

“So what happened?” Uncle Ike asked.

“First I have to tell you about Anders-” I started.

“Yes, we know he was the spy,” Harding said. “Please continue.”

“You knew? But-”

“Just continue, William,” Uncle Ike said gently, drawing on his cigarette and blowing smoke over the papers in front of him. I was confused. How could they know about Anders? But I had to keep going.

“OK. Sir. Anyway, it turned out Rolf had seen Anders go into the map room the night Knut Birkeland was murdered. He couldn’t say anything at the time because the reason he was in that part of the building was that he was coming downstairs after killing Birkeland. He had no excuse for being there. He had actually tried to pin the murder rap on Anders by planting that key in his room.”

“What does this have to do with what happened in Norway?” asked Cosgrove.

“Well, Rolf admitted to the murder, but said he wasn’t a traitor, and he didn’t want to let Anders escape. The last thing he intended to do before disappearing was kill Anders. He very nearly did, and me, too.”

“Tell us exactly what happened, Billy,” said Harding. “Exactly.”

Harding stared at me and I saw they were all looking at me, waiting for something. Tension seemed to buzz in the air, as if they could barely contain themselves while they waited for me to tell my story.

“I went into the hut to wait for Rolf, disguised as Anders, in his uniform. Instead of coming inside where we could take him, Rolf threw a grenade through a rear window. If I hadn’t stepped outside at that moment…”

“Was Anders killed then?” Harding asked.

“No. Nor me either, Major.” Thanks for the concern, buddy.

“What happened next?” said Harding, as if I didn’t matter.

“A lot, sir. But basically I shot him. Dead.”

“Anders, the spy?” Cosgrove asked, grasping the arms of his chair and moving his bulk forward, agitation showing in his raised voice.

“No! Rolf, the murderer. Of Knut Birkeland and Daphne, remember?”

“We remember, William,” Uncle Ike said. “It’s just important that we get this straight. What happened to Anders?”

“Nothing. He helped me after Rolf almost blew my head off, and then he left.”

“You let him go?” asked Cosgrove.

“Yeah. I was unconscious for a while,” I said. “Anders could’ve killed both Rolf and me while we were struggling. He tried to get Rolf to give up, and he didn’t gun me down when he could have.”

I shrugged. There was just no way to explain it that made sense. I’d let an enemy agent with the secret invasion plans go free. Period. Lock me up. I watched three sets of eyes flick back and forth, until Harding and Cosgrove settled on Uncle Ike and each gave him a slight nod of the head.

“Excellent!” said Uncle Ike, slamming his fist on the table. “Excellent, William!”

“Well done, old chap,” Cosgrove said, falling back into his chair, and pounding the arm with his hand. “Well done!”

Harding actually smiled as he closed the folder.

“What the hell is going on… sir?”

I looked to Harding, then Uncle Ike. This didn’t make any sense. I had forged orders, caused four undeserved deaths that I knew of, and let an enemy spy go. I expected to be clapped in irons, not clapped on the shoulder.

“Major Harding, please explain to William. He deserves the truth now.”

Harding raised an eyebrow and paused for a second, his hand on the red-tabbed folder. “The whole truth, General?”

“The whole truth. It’s good to keep in practice. We’ll need to remember what it’s like when the war’s over,” Uncle Ike said, his easy grin lighting up his face.

“We knew all along that Anders Arnesen was an enemy agent,” Harding began. “Major Cosgrove had captured and turned Anders’s contact early in the war. We knew he was coming, his code name, the works. We steered him to the Norwegian Brigade and allowed him to gain influence with the king’s government to provide him with the opportunity to learn about the invasion.”

“So it was all a fake?” I asked, the entirety of their deception slowly dawning on me. The sloppy security at Southwold, the winter gear being distributed so openly, the map case that anyone with a jackknife could jimmy open…

“Yes, a rather elaborate ruse actually,” Cosgrove said. “But we were worried that Arnesen would find it all too easy and convenient. So we decided to conduct an investigation, but one that would have little chance of succeeding. We wanted him to feel the heat and leave the country as soon as possible. That’s why King Haakon gave his permission for him to go back to Norway.”

All of a sudden the lightbulb went off, the final piece that I hadn’t understood.

“That’s how you knew in advance about me, being from Boston and all. I was the investigation that couldn’t succeed! You were counting on me to screw up!” Now I started to get steamed.

“Calm down, Boyle,” Harding interjected. “Yes, Major Cosgrove was not fully briefed and made some untimely remarks.” I could see looks passing between them and knew Harding was finessing some sore points.

“With the murder of Birkeland,” he continued, “things became complicated. I had to keep your search for the killer from uncovering our spy before he got out of the country. You were pretty hard to keep on a short leash.”