Disclaimer: I don't own the situations or characters portrayed herein. I'm just playing with them for a while.
Chapter Ten: Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Double-Crossing
The doorbell rang in the apartment, followed by a loud, syncopated knock that didn't quite have the old cadence of Mrs. Stetson's real knock. Leonard Baynes, listening at a computer located somewhere in the bowels of the agency, hoped that Mrs. Beaufort wouldn't forget the knock they had taught her in the office that morning. For her part, Amanda hoped that she had gotten this incorrect version of her signature knock correct. It was such a pain, having to pretend to be someone pretending to be a slightly-wrong version of herself.
She reminded herself that the end result should more than compensate her for the inconvenience. If they could find whatever was rotten at the agency, the country would be significantly safer. The bonus paychecks didn't hurt, either. Philip and Maggie would be back in the States for Christmas, and she wanted to be able to spoil her grandchildren properly.
The door opened and Lee ushered her surreptitiously into the apartment.
"You aren't supposed to come here!" he whispered vehemently. If he had dragged her across the room to a convenient location directly next to a hidden microphone, that was mere coincidence.
"I couldn't stay away!" she whispered. "What have you found out?"
They grinned at each other. It was a good thing that there were no cameras hidden. The deception would have been over immediately.
"I'm not supposed to tell you! How did you find out what I'm up to, anyway?"
She bit her lip to keep from giggling.
"I followed you," she whispered back. This was patent nonsense, but as long as her story didn't quite add up, Baynes and Barton-Brown would just assume that Evangeline Beaufort de la Zouch was bad at playing a part convincingly. It further cemented her cover, which Francine had provided without any official agency acknowledgment.
Two Weeks Before
Francine had been brought into the loop at the first possible moment. They had waited an appropriate amount of time after Leonard Baynes' departure from the house, then they had "gone to get groceries" — an excuse created entirely for the benefit of whoever happened to be listening on the other end of the bug that had taken up residence on Lee's desk — and driven off to Billy's house. On the way, Lee had informed Amanda of the call he had gotten from Francine that morning, warning him that he was likely to be contacted by shady people, and ordering (but really requesting) that he agree to it. One added benefit of Amanda "going to return a crockpot to Felicia McMasters" (a name they used for fictitious neighbors in a twisted homage to their wedding day) was that the car had been unavailable for having bugs installed in it. It was, therefore, an excellent location for covert discussions of their plans.
"But you agreed not to tell anybody about it or talk about it," Amanda protested. "You're telling me, and you're going to talk about it with Francine and Billy."
It felt like old times: a senior agent begrudgingly explaining the ins and outs of the international spy community to an overeager civilian.
"Yeah," Lee said, shrugging a shoulder carelessly and then wincing because he had forgotten that the weather had changed recently. "But a promise obtained under false pretenses doesn't count."
His wife, who had half-turned in her seat to Look at him, merely said, "Oh!" and turned back to face the road. A moment passed, then she muttered something inaudible.
"I know," her husband agreed. "I don't like it either."
As expected, they found Francine at Billy's house. They spent a pleasant afternoon there, coming up with a plan of campaign and a code they could use if open communication became necessary. They decided that Amanda would be part of it, without the permission or knowledge of the people pulling Lee's marionette strings. They didn't bother with any other particulars; these would be sufficient until Lee had gone through training at Fort Detrick.
"Remember," Billy said, smiling at her across his dining room table, "you're here to keep an eye on Lee." They all turned to look at Lee, who had stopped pacing abruptly at Billy's words. "You're the only one who ever could."
She smiled back at Billy affectionately, her eyes sweeping gently over the soft white hair and the crinkled skin at the corners of his eyes and mouth. "I promise," she assured him, and he relaxed a little.