“So I’ve heard,” Felicity said. She took the elevator to the sixth floor and, noting the closed door at the end of the hallway, opened her own door and walked in. Her two secretaries rose and greeted her; Cartwright followed her into her office.

“Director,” she said, “Brigadier Fife-Simpson arrived yesterday and is waiting in his office to see you. Shall I summon him?”

“Not yet, my dear,” Felicity replied. “Not until I’ve thought of something for him to do. Do you have any ideas?”

“How much substance are we talking about?” Cartwright asked.

“Not very much.”

“I see. May I have a few minutes to think about that, ma’am?”

“Of course. Let me know when you’ve come up with something.”

As Cartwright reached her desk, her phone rang, and she picked it up. “Good morning, Director’s office.”

“This is Brigadier Fife-Simpson,” a gruff male voice said.

“Good morning, Brigadier. How may I help you?”

“I wish to see the director at the earliest possible moment.”

“The director is occupied at the moment and has a full schedule for today. Let me call you back when she can fit you in.”

“Right.” He hung up.

“Mrs. Green,” Cartwright said to the other secretary, “think of something for Fife-Simpson to do.”

“Go bugger himself, perhaps?” she replied.

“As much as I’d like to suggest that, perhaps not.”

“Oh, well. You asked.”

Mrs. Green had a thought. She rapped on the director’s door, was told to enter, and she entered. “I’ve had a thought, Director,” she said.

“Pray tell me.”

“Perhaps an inspection tour of some of our stations?”

“Primary stations, or secondary?”

“Perhaps both?”

“It’s a lovely thought,” Felicity said, “but he might twig to what we’re doing. However . . .” She thought for a moment. “Please get me Lance Cabot.”

“Of course, Director,” Mrs. Green said, smiling. She went back to her desk, placed the call, then announced to the director, “Mr. Cabot for you on the overseas line.”

Felicity picked up her phone. “Lance, how are you?” she asked brightly.

“Very well, thank you, Felicity. And you?”

“Oh, very well. Lance, are you acquainted with a Brigadier Roger Fife-Simpson?”

“I seem to recall a colonel by that name.”

“He’s been promoted.”

“Sort of a ramrod type?”

“That’s the one. He’s been appointed my new deputy.”

“Somehow I feel that you did not select him.”

“You might say that,” Felicity said. “He’ll be doing a bit of orientation with our outlying stations, as well as with our allies.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And I was wondering if one or more of your people might, ah, orient him for a week or so.”

“I expect I can find someone to handle that—someone I don’t like very much.”

“Ideal,” Felicity said. “May I have him arrive at Langley the day after tomorrow?”