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“Okay, okay,” Canidy said. “No more jokes. And be easy with those. They only come in pairs—very, very delicate pairs.”

Ann moved in closer to Canidy. She pressed her nose into his neck, kissed it, and practically purred.

After a long quiet moment, she glanced around the room and suddenly sat up.

“This place is absolutely amazing,” she said.

She looked out the large pictu

re windows of the twelfth-floor luxury apartment. The view overlooked Hyde Park.

Although it was now dark, she had spent the last few hours waiting for Canidy by sitting in the plush armchair at the window. She now clearly recalled the last rays of the sunset casting long shadows of the trees across the Serpentine, the park’s long, curved picturesque pond.

“Thank Uncle Max,” Canidy said.

“Who?”

“Stanley S. Fine, Esquire, on leave as vice president of legal affairs for Continental Motion Picture Studios, is the nephew of Mr. Max Liebermann, chairman of the board of Continental Motion Picture Studios.”

“I think I knew that. I can’t—”

“The studio,” Canidy went on, “maintains this apartment for stars and executives—and very, very select friends of the family—who might be visiting London.”

“I see,” she said, rubbing his chest hairs.

When Stanley Fine had first arrived on duty in London, he had been temporarily housed in a shabby flat. The flat also had been a very long Underground ride away from the office. After a good deal of mental debate, he had put aside whatever pride had told him that he should take what he was given in the interest of the war. And he had made the luxurious Westminster Tower apartment his quarters.

His argument, at least to himself, was that he could walk the ten or so blocks to and from the office. This allowed him to spend more time on the job, in the interest of the war.

Now, of course, he was holed up in the OSS villa at Algiers.

“I’ll remember to thank him,” Ann said, sounding like the proper Southerner that she was.

“You realize, don’t you, that the Dorchester Hotel is only two blocks from here? We could go down, sit in Stan’s famous spot, where he held court. I believe it even has a brass plaque engraved with his name; if not, it should for all the money he and I have left there. Anyway, there was a pretty nice-sized crowd at the bar when I went by just a little while ago.”

“I got a nice letter from Charity,” Ann said, ignoring the suggestion and his ramblings.

Canidy could hear excitement in her tone.

“Really?” he said.

“She’s preggers.”

Whoa…oh, shit!

“Really!” he repeated, trying to make it sound excited. “Well, congrats to her. Does Doug know?”

What I really want to ask is: Does Douglass know what he’s doing?

Well, hell, he is a big boy….

“He’s already given her the engagement ring.”

Canidy was silent. And he realized it was making for an awkward moment.

“What’s on your mind, Dick?”

Her hand was making faster circles on his chest.