I retrieve from my coat pocket the key he lent me. After peeking behind me for anyone in the vicinity, I unlock and open the door. The interior leaves me slack-jawed.

The spacious bunker, a good twelve by twenty feet, boasts all the features of a household den: a wooden floor and rug, a desk and chair, an oil lamp and heater. And on the wall of bookshelves sit hundreds of gadgets. With Arie’s penchant for tinkering as a kid, he’d be on cloud nine. Most of the “toys” are a mix of active and blown inventions, the rest evident prototypes in varied stages of development. There are tricked-out dartboards, baseball bats, and badminton rackets; gramophones, lighters, and spools of thread.

When Hutton directed me here, he described it as a vault-like storage room, painting a very different scene. He’d had the place built, he said, to keep his devices from the sticky fingers of servicemen who treated his office as a help-yourself, no-pay gadget shop to amuse their family and friends.

Gazing in awe, I have to remind myself what led me here. These items no longer pertain to my life. Disquieted by the room’s underground location and solitary exit, I gear up to seek out Hutton’s briefcase.

Within seconds, I locate his bag behind the desk. My mission is explicit, and yet I can’t resist. I forgo debating and delve inside, only to find it holds no documents. Just sketches and diagrams of gadgets.

In my periphery, my sights catch on a diversion. Three parcels stacked in the corner bear an appearance I recognize. Cream paper, black twine. Matching the package handed off by Hutton.

Though his graveyard activities are now clear, his nighttime meeting remains a mystery. In my final effort for MI9, I take the liberty of stealing a look.

What I discover results in more questions than answers.

Chapter 38

It’s late afternoon by the time I return to the hospital with Hutton’s briefcase, ending my obligation if not my curiosity.

“Splendid. Well done.” He accepts the delivery while seated in bed, eyes alight behind his glasses.

“I locked up, of course, and put the key in your bag.”

This doesn’t stop him from diving into the contents, surely for peace of mind.

“Sir, if I may, I have something to ask.”

“As do I, Miss Vos.” He continues to rummage. “Are you aware of the reason I was selected specifically to lead the gadget section?”

The detour gives me pause. “Your…prior service as a pilot?”

“Ah, here we are.” Out of the briefcase, he pulls not a key but a billfold, from which he displays a piece of paper folded down several times. “This,” he answers his own query. “All due to this very page.”