Roz Fox - A Secret To Tell You

“Gram, now I’m even more curious. There must be more story. How did you get away? You obviously made it home to the States and—hey, are you crying? I don’t understand why you or Grandpa felt compelled to hide the fact that you both served as intelligence agents. It’s not a criminal occupation.”

“Because the story doesn’t end there.”

Quinn glanced at his watch. “Hayley’s due home from gymnastics in about twenty minutes and shortly after that I have to leave for a meeting with my steering committee.”

“I’ll try to hurry. On the other hand, some things are too important to be rushed,” she said, blotting her eyes. “I assumed we’d go back to Marseilles, and that life would go on as before. Kestrel said that wasn’t wise. It was the first time he indicated that I was in jeopardy—through my job. He said senior officers thought I’d leaked classified information to Heinz. I didn’t! I felt physically sick with fear. We took refuge with a French family, someone in the underground. They got the film developed. There was only one picture on the roll—the one at the transfer site. It showed me reaching out to Heinz. I didn’t see how it could be considered damaging, which is why I stole it from our hosts. I wanted that last memory of Heinz. But Kestrel said if it landed in a senior officer’s hands, the photo might make it look as if I’d become a traitor.” She gave a resigned sigh. “According to him, my feelings for Heinz were so clear, that photo practically sealed my fate.”

“Hardly seems fair,” Quinn muttered.

Norma shrugged. “That’s how espionage works. The system can turn on an agent in the blink of an eye.”

“I’m positive you aren’t going to say you two went AWOL, Gram. Otherwise, Grandpa never would’ve became a diplomat after the war. Dad used to tell me stories about him.”

“I eventually went through the proper channels to leave the OSS. A sadder, wiser woman. At the time, Kestrel left me with the French family while he traveled to Marseilles to nose around. What he learned almost undid me. The agency had it on good authority, they said, that Heinz intended to infiltrate the OSS through me. That he was a double agent, in other words. Now you might think my colleagues would feel sorry for me. But no, I was persona non grata to many people who’d been my friends. If that wasn’t horrible enough, my life was in danger. I’d become disposable. I was brokenhearted, and I felt totally betrayed.”

“Ah, I’m beginning to see. Grandpa, uh, Kestrel, believed in you.”

“So he claimed. He also claimed he loved me. Fell head over heels, he said, even before our training days. Apparently he’d attended a few of my parents’ parties, although I didn’t remember him. I wasn’t ready to hear any of it, certainly not his declaration of love. I’d given my heart fully to Heinz. But I wasn’t impractical. I knew I could stay in France. After Heinz’s death, I slipped into a depression. I couldn’t muster up the energy to act, which meant my fate was in Tony’s hands. We escaped the country on foot, as it wasn’t safe to show my passport. We hiked over the mountains to Spain. A miserable trek. It rained. It snowed. I’ve managed to block out my worst memories of those days. We rode part of the way in a stock truck, afraid to make a noise. In those days there were spies everywhere. American, German, French, Bulgarian—and even some Japanese. It was truly a miracle we got out alive.”

“Gram, don’t cry anymore. You did get out. Isn’t it time to talk about the good stuff? The part where you realized a good man loved you, and you ended up marrying him?”

“Oh, Quinn. I was ready to run home to my parents. Tony revealed his identity and told me to shape up. I’d taken an oath not to tell a soul about my time with the OSS. He ordered me to destroy any communication I’d had with Heinz, as well as my passport verifying travel to and from Colmar. He didn’t know I’d kept these photographs. They were all I had left of Heinz.”

She wiped away another tear. “Tony promised to fix my record when he returned to Washington to train a new group of agents. He said I could continue working in Washington at an agency desk job. By then, I’d had enough of the OSS. I wanted to quit and saw no reason to shred my passport or the letters. I hadn’t passed any vital information to Heinz. While I admired Kestrel’s skill and expertise, and appreciated his help, I didn’t love him and I told him so. We had a huge fight. He left my D.C. apartment in a huff, with me insisting I’d dissolve my association with the agency as soon as I could. Honorably. Which wasn’t easy, I learned. Rumors about me had already made their way to the Joint Chiefs. I was interrogated up one side and down the other by no-name operatives and assorted military officers. I was glad I’d saved my correspondence with Heinz, should it come to proving that I, at least, wasn’t a double agent. Not that I ever believed Heinz was…Thank goodness it didn’t go that far. Instead, I was put on paid leave. One day I received a letter signed by the agency chief, giving me a release date three days out, plus the amount of my last paycheck.”

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