The Incidental Spy by Libby Fischer Hellmann Page A

in these times, one never knows who is a friend and who is an enemy. If you do not cooperate, your life—and that of your son could become—well—difficult.”
    “Are you threatening me, Colonel?” Lena said. She was shaking with rage now, not fear.
    “Not at all, Mrs. Stern. Just reminding you of your duty as an American. Especially during a war in which enemies are all around us. Think it over.”

Chapter 24
    L ena couldn’t sleep. She went to the kitchen, poured some of the whiskey she’d given Collins, and tossed it down. She had to tell Irving that Collins suspected him of espionage, but how could she do that without exposing herself? For all she knew, that was Collins’ plan all along. He’d never liked her, and now he had a good reason to keep a close eye on her through Irving.
    She was now going to be exploited by two groups, each for their own purposes. It didn’t matter that Collins was clumsier and less sophisticated than the Germans. To both groups she was nothing more than a pawn, an insignificant player on a complicated chessboard. What would they do to her when she had served her purpose? What would they do to Max?
    She covered her face with her hands. She was approaching a point of no return. Her days as a spy—perhaps even life itself—were numbered. How had it come to this? Maybe she should have stayed in Germany with her family and Josef. She would undoubtedly be dead by now, but at least it would have been a honorable death. Unsullied by shame or scandal.
    She paced back and forth in the living room. There might be someone whose help she could enlist. He’d been the one person—the only person—to suggest a connection between events. She had no reason to think he would help her; he might throw her to the wolves, like the others surely would. And if he did help, life would become more difficult. She tried to brainstorm other options, but she didn’t see any.
    She rummaged around the apartment for his card. He’d given it to her months earlier. She searched the kitchen, then the bedroom, but couldn’t find it. She grew more frantic. She had to find it. She finally saw it in her jewelry box on the dresser. She grabbed it and practically ran to the telephone.
    When he answered, she said breathlessly, “This is Lena Stern. You helped when my husband Karl—was—died. And then when my son was kidnapped.”
    “Hello, Lena,” Agent Lanier said. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

Chapter 25
    T he following morning ushered in a crisp fall day, the kind that evoked thoughts of a sweet new year filled with apples and honey. The High Holidays had come and gone—they’d been early this year— but the swirl of scarlet, yellow, and orange leaves outside was a reminder of the season. Lena gave Max extra hugs before leaving for work.
    She was under strict instructions not to tell Hans or Collins about her conversation with Lanier. He had come over after she called, and sat, ironically, in the same spot on the sofa as Collins. She told him everything. Then they discussed her options.
    “I want you to work for us.”
    “Us?”
    “The United States.”
    “I thought I already was. Through Collins.”
    “We haven’t been able to pin him down. He may be a rogue agent, working for himself because he wasn’t formally assigned to Manhattan. Or maybe he’s something else. We just don’t know.”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “Essentially, we want you to mix up your intel. Put misleading information in some of the documents you pass to Hans. Collins too. Things that either mean nothing or are outright lies.”
    Lena bit her lip, thinking back to the sketch of the Pile she’d altered. She told Lanier about it.
    “Exactly. Good work. That’s what we want.”
    “But how? How will I figure out what is meaningful and what isn’t?”
    “I’ll let you know. I’ll take a look at everything you’re planning to pass. A day won’t make much difference. You’ll have to make sure I get a