He straightened the cuffs on his jacket and pulled his arm up to check his watch again. He stepped back, nodding politely at the women in nursing uniforms who did not give him a second glance. Sighing he pulled his collar up, glaring at the drizzling rain that worked its way to soak everything slowly.

"Worse than water torture." He muttered as a car pulled in next to him on the pavement and only his quick movements avoided the dousing the wheels kicked up from a puddle.

A man in uniform hurried out of the car, leaving the engine running while pulling the boot open. "Sorry I'm late sir."

"It's no matter. We're only fighting a war here." He handed over his two suitcases and the duffle before grabbing his attaché case and satchel. "Hitler won't mind waiting another ten minutes for us."

"The Admiral's a stickler about the condition of his wheels sir." The chauffer opened the back door and the man ducked inside, removing his hat as he did so. "If you don't mind I promise I can get us to headquarters fast enough so you won't have missed a thing."

"Top speed then."

"Craick." He closed the door, then the boot, and climbed behind the wheel, "Just promise you won't chunder all over the backseat sir."

"I've got a strong stomach private." The man waited a moment before leaning forward, "What is your name?"

"Private Branson sir."

"You sound a little too Emerald Isle for this job."

"I worked for the Admiral before they called him back to active duty. The Army wouldn't take me due to a heart arrhythmia but he insisted I could drive like the devil was at me heels so I took the job." Branson adjusted his mirrors and then pointed over his shoulder, "Might want to buckle up sir, there's a reason the Admiral wouldn't take no for an answer about me as his wheel man."

The man sat back as Branson peeled away from the pavement, ratcheting his speed up immediately and sending the wheels spinning a moment before splashing a group of uniformed Army officers. Shaking fists and howling curses filled the rear window. Branson laughed and shifted up gears, weaving through the traffic with ease.

The man in back put a hand to the window to hold himself in place before whistling. "You weren't exaggerating."

"I only exaggerate about two things sir."

"What are those?"

"What shoes I wear and the cars I own."

The man raised an eyebrow as they took a turn on two wheels, "Not your number of women or your size?"

"No need to lie about those. If a girl wants to know then she'll find out the truth." Branson took another sharp turn and corrected as a car blared its horn at him. "I never needed any help in that department anyway."

"Luck of the Irish then?"

"You could say that sir." Branson steered through a light, barely missing the red that sent a lorry screeching to a halt. "What about you sir, if I may ask?"

"Tit for tat I think," The man gritted his teeth as Branson pulled the brakes for a second to avoid hitting the fender of another vehicle and then burnt rubber to get away. "I don't lie on either account because blokes know you're lying and women don't want to hear it."

"Then do you lie about anything else?"

"Only whether or not I actually loved my ex-wife."

"The one from the papers sir?" The man met Branson's eyes in the rear view mirror, "Not to pry but I recognized you from the orders about the general inquiry. I didn't want to say anything because it's your business but you've got me curious and I thought I better let you know sir. Avoids surprises."

"Thank you for the heads up then." The man waited a beat, "And I did love her, despite what I told anyone who asked during her trial."

"Then your 'Ms. Bernhard' really did sell you up the river on that?"

"More than once but that was the first time with state secrets."

"She tie you to the bed to steal them sir?"

"Stole the key, actually." The man put a hand forward as Branson yanked the car to a halt at the gates to a nondescript building. "I risked going to the loo in my own house."

"Never trust the loo sir," Branson leaned over the seat, "And I was rooting for you. Us leprechauns got to stay together, know what I mean?"

"I'll hold you to that Branson." The man shook Branson's hand.

"Thank you sir but in here it'll be Thursday."

"Sorry?"

"Admiral's orders. Every member of his elite staff's got a day of the week assigned to them. Keeps our activities right and secret when all the reports read things like, 'Thursday got himself into a spot of trouble out on the piss but managed to detain three suspected German spies'. Things like that avoids our permanent records getting those little black marks."

"Then you're Thursday I imagine?"

"Only here sir," Branson turned front again as the gates fully opened, "Only here."

The man sat back and sighed, "Any days of the week left for me?"

"Wouldn't know about that sir. I only drive the Admiral and now you. Consider yourself lucky, I almost stripped the tires for you and that must mean you're someone important." Branson shrugged, "More than the stripes on your coat anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Other Commanders had to find their own way here. One even took a cab." Branson pulled the car into a space and parked it, "The Admiral must think the world of you sir."

"He thinks something." The man waited as Branson opened the door, "Thank you Bran- Thursday."

"My pleasure sir," Branson saluted, "I do hope I get to drive you again. It's not often I meet someone with stripes and a personality."

"I hazard it's usually one or the other for you then?"

"Most times sir." Branson winked, "The Admiral will've-"

"Thank you Thursday," A rather severely cheek-boned woman exited the lift directly ahead of them and walked in a pair of heels that were definitely higher than regulation, "I'll escort Commander Bates down."

"Very good ma'am." Branson saluted with his hat, "Where'll I put his bags?"

"The Admiral wants them in the rooms at the top of headquarters. Make sure Carson or Hughes get those ready for him."

"Yes ma'am."

"Commander Bates?" The man turned to the woman as she extended her hand, "Second Officer Crawley but please refer to me as Friday."

"Code names on the premises then?" Bates shook her hand, "I do hope I can put in a bid for Saturday, that's my favorite."

"All the weekdays and ends are taken so you'll have to see what the Admiral says." She looked him over, "I guess you'll do as is."

"I aim to please."

"I hope so. Follow me." She walked back to the lift and Bates removed his hat, holding his attaché and satchel in one hand with his hat in the other.

They entered the lift and she pulled the door closed before hitting the bottom most button three times. The lift jerked and then descended. Bates surveyed the area for a moment before speaking.

"And what is it you do here, Officer Crawley."

"It's Friday, sir, and I work as the personal secretary and liaison for the Admiral. I handle dispatches, mail, requests, orders, and logistics. I've been his right hand for years. He can't do a thing without me."

"I knew I recognized you," Bates faced her and she raised an eyebrow, "Mary Crawley, his oldest."

"Yes, Commander Bates but here I'm Friday." She rolled her shoulders, "As long as you're here I'll also be operating as the liaison for your operations as well. Come to me with anything you need and I'll see to it."

"So you'll be my girl Friday?"

She faced him, her mouth tight, "Call me 'my girl' again Commander Bates and I promise you won't be here long enough for me to be anything to you." The lift stopped and she pulled the doors back, "Welcome to headquarters."

Bates stepped out of the lift and blew out a long breath at the sight of the manic chaos in the room. Men and women rushed about with stacks of paper and folders while other debated over a map on a table or pointed to the mounted wall map. Some of them drank from cups still steaming while others shouted across the room or into telephones. More than a few had rolled up sleeves and bags under their eyes. Others simply appeared like one wrong blink and they might fall asleep standing up.

"Is it always like this?"

"No," Mary led him through the melee and everyone seemed to part the seas for her, "Sometimes it's worse."

They entered a small alcove and she pointed to the left, "That's my desk. You need anything you bring it there and nowhere else. I don't expect to tramp all over headquarters looking for a bit of paper because you couldn't put it where it belongs."

"Understood." Bates chuckled.

She turned on him outside the two large wooden doors. "Do you find this all amusing, Commander Bates?"

"My mother always taught me it's better to laugh than cry when faced with an impossible situation, Friday, and so that's what I'm doing." Bates gestured forward with his hand, "I think I should see the Admiral now, Second Officer."

She scowled at him and then opened the doors. Bates nodded to her and strode in to see the Admiral, a man about his size with grayer hair, shouting into his own telephone.

"I don't bloody well care who's fault it is but I have an officer who-" He stopped when he saw Bates and gathered his breath, "Never mind."

"Glad to see nothing's changed Admiral Crawley." Bates smiled as Crawley hung up the phone and came around the desk to shake hands, Crawley pumping for all he was worth.

"I've gone about half mad trying to get you here and they all think so." Crawley looked over Bates's shoulder, "Thank you Mary, that'll be all."

She pulled the door shut with a snap and Bates jumped a little, "She hasn't changed."

"Mary never will. But it's only been worse since Dunkirk." Crawley shook his head, "It's a nasty business."

"I did read Flight Squadron Commander Matthew Crawley went down but I thought he was taken prisoner." Bates looked to Crawley who only shook his head, "I'm so sorry Robert."

"It's her I'd feel sorry for if she'd let me. But she doesn't let anyone. It's all hard shell and armor with her." Robert lowered his voice, "She insisted on coming into work the next day like nothing'd changed. She believes the only way to honor him is to fight the good fight and beat Hitler. If she could she'd probably kill him with her bare hands."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Bates put his things down on an empty chair, "And how's the fighting from here?"

"It's a mess. The whole thing's been cocked up from the start and I inherited the bloody mess from someone else too concerned with retiring to even bother fighting the war we have here." Robert took his seat behind the desk and pointed to a chair for Bates to sit. "Lord Bloody Sinderby, Earl of Durham. Cock up."

"He seemed eager to get me in prison and very capable while he did it." Bates rolled his shoulders, "Though I guess he sufficed himself with my ex-wife."

"Sinderby was an ass and we all know it." Robert scoffed, "Man couldn't tie his own shoelaces without help."

"I think he had help but not with his shoelaces." Bates waited a moment and Robert laughed.

"Point is, the bugger's gone and now we're cleaning up with what little he left us best we can and everyone's on our backs for why we can't do it faster."

"And that's why you brought me in sir?"

"I need someone I trust."

"Even after all that?"

"Especially after all that." Robert leaned over the desk, "With one of their spies nicked the Jerries'll be thinking the last place you'll be is near state secrets again. That makes you the obvious tool for them."

"You want me to act like they can turn me?" Bates shook his head, "I've already seen the inside of a cell Robert and while I respect you-"

"It's got all the right rubber stamps Bates and you're the only one they'd be stupid enough to go after." Robert tapped his fingers on his desk, "This is what I need you for. They need a target ready to take back what they lost from King and country and we need a way to track how they pass intelligence."

"I'm a plant?"

"You're my plant and I treat them well."

"I've seen your house Robert, all your plants die."

"Those are my wife's," Robert waved a hand, "I'm talking about being in the thick of it again Bates. Don't you want that?"

Bates scratched at his head, "To be honest I was hoping for a quiet discharge so I could go purchase a little cottage outside of Belfast and find a lovely Irish woman to make love to every night."

"Commit to this, Bates, and promise you won't regret it." Robert grinned, "Even if I can't promise a lovely Irish woman will make love to you on a nightly basis."

"An English one?"

"Would you risk Mary?" Both of them laughed and Robert held out a hand, "What do you say?"

"When do I start?" Bates shook Robert's hand and then both stood.

"Right now Bernhard."

"Bernhard?"

"Why not use your wife's codename? She's in the can and we want others to join her. Fish with their bait and all that."

"I never did like fishing." Bates grimaced, "But since you apparently already gave away all the days of the week."

"There's only seven to go around and unfortunately you're number eight on this team." Robert led him to the door, "But welcome to it."