A/N: A follow-up to the 1946 Gary Cooper film "Cloak and Dagger" picking up where the movie left off.
Aye, Spy
Colonel Clem Walsh, officer of the United States' Office of Strategic Services, sat at his desk and looked at the American nuclear physicist Alvah Jesper, who had just come back from Europe and given Clem his verbal report on his mission there to ascertain Germany's progress on a nuclear bomb. "Anything else?" he asked the scientist.
Alvah rubbed his chin. "I think that about covers it. Oh, you boys in the spy business probably have a way of wrapping these things up but I'm just a physicist. After we got professor Polda out I guess the mission is over and I go back to work in my basement at Midwestern University. I'm not really a spy."
"Maybe...maybe not. These have come in for you," Clem said as he handed over papers to Alvah. "One is from your contact Gina in the Italian Underground, asking you to come back as soon as you can - I thought the hearts she drew on the letter were particularly touching. The other is from that American Ann Dawson that's the German spy. SHE'S asking for you to come back too. No hearts, but I smell perfume. You seem to have...ah...that part of the process down pretty well," he said with a raised eyebrow. A smirk - however appropriate - would have been somewhat unprofessional. "No doubt you would have wooed Katerin Lodor too if she hadn't been killed."
"That was different," Alvah said defensively. "Katerin was an esteemed physicist. Ours was a strictly professional relationship." Meanwhile, he thought how beautiful she looked in the wheelchair.
"No doubt. But we still may have need of your services. This war isn't going to last forever, and when it ends our government would like extend an olive branch to certain scientists and technicians working for the Germans right now."
"By an olive branch, you mean that you want to pick their brains rather than charge them with war crimes."
"Oh, uh, that's a rather crude way of putting it."
"But true?"
"Essentially," Clem agreed. "You have to admit it wouldn't be right to pick their brains and THEN charge them with war crimes. But we need to get someone in there and do some reconnaissance to find out who we should invite."
"Because we wouldn't DARE extend an olive branch to everyone." Alvah had already made it known that he would rather have the resources going to weapon research to go to other endeavors like medicine.
"Really Alvah, please understand that it isn't just us. The Soviets are in a position to do the same. And life wouldn't be any better over there for the emigres when it comes down to it. Would you rather they be forced to leave to work as virtual scientific slaves for a foreign country or do so voluntarily under a free society?" Clem asked, staring directly at his friend.
"When you put it that way, I guess we're slightly better. But what about my work with the...you know..." he said before lowering his head and whispering "...the Manhattan project?"
"Your work has been taken up by top men."
"Who?" Alvah asked.
"Top...men," Clem answered deliberately. "Besides, for being a pacifist you don't seem to mind carrying a gun," he said as he pointed to a place on Alvah's jacket that bulged slightly.
"I'm only a pacifist until my life is threatened."
"So, a pragmatic pacifist. Interesting. But the question remains - will you go?"
Alvah looked down at the pleas for his return in his hand. Ann's letter definitely smelled of perfume. "I guess it wouldn't hurt at that."
O-O-O-O-O
"I'm glad you could come," Ann Dawson said as she rolled over in the bed and wrapped the sheet around her.
"So am I," Alvah said with a smile. "Can I come again tomorrow?"
"What, a virile and experienced man such as yourself? I wouldn't be surprised if you could come again later today," she purred. She batted her eyes, but they struck out.
"Sorry, but I have business this afternoon - I have to find a scientist here in Zurich. I'm...ah...seeing if he wants to go play baseball in America after the war."
"Don't be silly, you want him to work on the Manhattan project don't you? Hans Switzer is a good choice."
"You know about..." he said, almost whispering the name "...the Manhattan project?"
"Secrets rarely stay secret long in the spy business," she admitted. "A lot of people know about it. Here, let me show you." She picked up the room's telephone and asked for room service. "Hello? Yes, this is room 311. I would like a Manhattan please."
"Do you mean the drink with whiskey and sweet vermouth or the project to harness nuclear power to create a bomb?" Alvah could hear the voice on the other end ask.
"The drink."
"Certainly. You'll have it in fifteen minutes."
"Thank you." She hung up the phone. "See?"
"I wonder how long it would have been for the bomb. You're telling me the bartender is a spy?"
"No, nothing of the sort. He's just a nuclear physicist. But the waitress is a spy, and he gets all his news from her. You'd be surprised just what you hear customers talking about." She giggled. "It's not just all kisses and hoochie coochie."
"I see. Do you know where this Hans Switzer is?" he asked.
"Yes. I can tell you, but you have to promise to get my mother away from the Germans first. They're holding her hostage against her will in Geneva so that I'll stay a spy."
"Is it possible to hold someone hostage but NOT against their will?"
"Yes, but the process is complicated. Will you help me?"
"It can be arranged. Give me the details and I'll see what I can do."
O-O-O-O-O
In Geneva, Alvah managed to fall in love with another local woman and eventually sneak into the house where Ann's mother was being held. "Mrs. Dawson?" he asked quietly after slipping into the bedroom.
"Oh, what a terrible nightmare!" she said, sitting up in the bed. "I dreamed I was being rescued by an American who was a professional physicist working on the Manhattan project but an amateur spy. Thank God you woke me up, I simply can't imagine how that dream would have worked out well for me."
"Um, keep an open mind on that," he said. "I AM here to rescue you, though. Your daughter Ann sent me."
"She just tells people to call her Ann. Her real name is Debbie, but she hates it - I'm surprised she didn't bring it up."
"It didn't come up. We were busy...um...planning your rescue."
Mrs. Dawson went on. "She's named after her aunt who is a physicist, but I'm sure you already know that."
Alvah slapped his forehead gently. There must be a lot of schools churning out physicists these days. "Well Ann...ur, Debbie wants me to bring you back so she can escape the life of being forced to be a Nazi spy."
"Oh, that won't help."
"Why not?"
"Because my son is being held hostage by the Germans to keep ME here."
"Your son?"
"Yes. Patrick Dawson. They've got him in Poland right now in a cell. If he were free, then I could leave here."
"You could leave anyway."
"Yes, but I'd lose the deposit on my son. That's my late husband's life savings, plus a bit more I've made playing the ponies on the side." She looked at Alvah. "Can you help me?"
"I think it can be arranged. Tell me everything about your son."
"Well, he was a breech baby..."
O-O-O-O-O
"I don't speak much Polish, but this beautiful woman I met in Gdańsk managed to help me get in here after she fell in love with me," Alvah finished explaining to Patrick Dawson. "To get your mother away from the Nazis, my associates and I will break you out of here."
"I really appreciate that. You must really miss your work on the Manhattan project," Patrick said.
"I would love to...wait, how do YOU know about the Manhattan project?" Alvah had given up whispering the name since it seemed at least half the people he met knew about it.
"I overheard a conversation between two of my captors."
"Are YOU a nuclear physicist by any chance?"
"I studied it for a few years but went into accounting instead. There, if you make a mistake with numbers the books don't balance. In nuclear physics, the same thing happens and 'boom'."
"I understand. You wouldn't happen to be staying here because someone you care about is being held against their will, are you?" Alvah asked.
"As a matter of fact, yes. Tell me, how did you know? Is it from some vast and formidable file from your spy network?"
"No. I'm just starting to catch on what most spy missions must be about..."
"Perhaps you are becoming more professional than you think. Can you help me?"
"I'm starting to have my doubts, but we'll give it a try..."
O-O-O-O-O
"So you see Mr. Jesper, I have to put all my hopes on you. You MUST help me, especially after all the favor I showed you last night." The long-legged blond stood in the doorway to the kitchenette dressed in just slippers and a plate full of toast.
"Well, I have to admit that DOES tip the scales a bit," Alvah said as he took another sip of coffee. That toast smelled pretty good. "Come over here and we'll discuss it." Outside, the morning street sounds of Stuttgart were coming in through the window.
"Not without promising me," Carole said with a little stomp of her feet. The motion made the toast shift among other things and Alvah had a sudden thought about bouncing fruit - not grapefruit, but possibly oranges. Definitely something bigger than lemons. Unless it was those really big Meyer lemons he saw one time when...
"Well?" she demanded.
Alvah put down his coffee cup and picked up a form he had made a few days ago to save time on the rest of the mission. "Okay. Town or city person is being held?"
"Zurich."
Alvah wrote down the answer. "Building?"
"The Hotel Brewster."
"Um hum. Name?"
"Ann Dawson."
"Ann Daw...wait, Ann Dawson? Zurich?"
"Yes. She's my best friend from school, and she is being forced to work with the Nazis after getting kidnapped while on a European trip. Her real name..."
"...is Debbie," Alvah finished. "Wait a minute...let me figure this out..." he said as he got out a sheet of paper and started drawing a flowchart. "This could work out just right, but timing will be everything..."
O-O-O-O-O
"If you'll just step this way, we've got a bus waiting for you," Alvah said as he escorted Ann Dawson through the narrow alley located behind the hotel building.
"A bus?" Ann asked. "Wouldn't a car be more inconspicuous?"
"Yes, but I have my reasons. There it is down there." The bus was painted to match the colors of the local bus line. "Now be careful, those steps are pretty steep."
"But when will I see my mother?" she asked.
"She's inside. There you go," he said as he helped her by pulling her hand. "Now, first, I think you know Carole."
"Ann!" Carole screamed as she jumped up and the two hugged. "Now, behind Carole we have Sparky." A beagle sat on the seat and yipped in delight. "He's used to belong to Carole." Alvah looked at a sheet of paper to make sure he had the proper order, then turned it upside down and gave up. "Okay, attention everyone. Everyone here has been rescued after the person...or dog..." he said as Sparky barked approval "...they cared about that was being held has been freed. As I call out your name, please stand up. Ann!"
"I'm already standing."
"That's right. Okay, Ann freed up Carole, who freed up Sparky, who freed up James, that let Mr. Sanders leave, who was why Helga stayed, who waited for Barry, then it was Laurie..."
"LaurA," the lady corrected.
"Sorry, Laura, then Heddy, Harry, then a name I can't read here..."
"Susan," a young girl answered.
"Yes, of course...Susan, Lt. Pecking, John, Reverend Smyth, Patrick, Mrs. Dawson and finally back to Ann again. I think we have everyone. Does anybody here have anyone left who is being held against their will?" he asked. The bus was relatively quiet except for the excited murmurings of the reunions; no one spoke up. "Well then, I guess we've got everyone. Ann?
"Yes?"
"You're in the clear now. Can you tell me where to find Hans Switzer?"
"Who?"
"The man I was looking for in the first place."
"Oh, him! He's already defected to America. I got a postcard from him last week."
"I see. All right. Okay, well then let's get out of here. Hey, where's the bus driver?" Alvah asked, looking around. Will so many people milling about , it was hard to tell. "Will everyone who is a physicist please sit on the left side of the bus. Everyone who is a spy sit on the right."
"What if you're both?" someone asked from the back.
"Ah, that's a good point - go with the profession you started first." The crowd sorted itself out until finally there was a man left standing in the aisle. "Are you Mr. Johnson the driver?"
"I am. What have you got here, a convention?"
"It's a long story. Take us to the airport, please, and hurry - we've got a plane to catch. I just hope it has enough seats..."
"You in a hurry, sir?"
"I've got to get home and take some Italian lessons and quick."
The End
A/N: Played mostly straight, the film used many of the spy tropes one comes to recognize in the genre. But show me one "being held against their will" setting and we'll just play it out a little further!