In 1946, at the age of eighteen, Ross had joined her father as a researcher in the Foreign Office. But, although she enjoyed the work, she longed for excitement. An opportunity for this arose, when she moved across the road to the Ministry of Defence, and after a short period, had then moved to Curzon Street to join MI5.
As a researcher in R Section, she had worked well under the eye of her Head of Section, Alex Swan. Then one day in 1957, Swan had needed a surveillance team for a top Soviet embassy official. Ross had already put her name forward for light field work, and Swan had finally given her that chance. As part of his team, Ross had shadowed her man through St James’s Park, and across Trafalgar Square. He had led her into the National Portrait Gallery, where he had made contact with a potential British defector. Ross had pretended to admire the enigmatic portrait of the Bronte sisters, painted by their brother, Patrick Branwell Bronte, while she carefully listened to the conversation, between the two men. Then, as they took their leave of each other, she had waited, and then entered a phone box across the road, to inform control, of her discovery.
Swan had commended her on her fieldwork, and had also secretly admired her. They had become good friends, even within the almost military style working relationship, as she accompanied Swan to a few meetings, one being with the BND in the British sector of West Berlin. She had felt herself becoming more and more attracted to him, but knew that a romance could jeopardise the vital work and compromise Swan’s position, as Head of A Section. In 1961, when Swan had been asked by the Ministry to set up a special department in Whitehall, she knew that maybe their admiration for each other, could perhaps become something else. This would eventually happen in 1966. Swan had requested her help researching a matter regarding an illegal arms deal. Army equipment had been literally walking out of a barracks in Essex, and Swan had been assigned to investigate. Ross had been sent to Wellesley Mews, after being reluctantly released by her new boss, Deputy Head of A Section, Dennis Martin. After the case had been solved, and the perpetrators arrested and court martialled, Swan had asked Ross to dinner to celebrate, before her return to Leconfield House.
It was then, that they both realised, there was a lot more than just the job between them.
The little boy in front of her was now bored with the ducks, and decided to play with a twig, using it to flick up some dirt by the waterside. His mother chastised the action and taking his hand, she led him away.
Ross watched them head towards the Park’s exit into Marylebone Road, then trained her eyes on a man passing them, heading towards her. Swan raised his arm, waving at her. She smiled, also raising a hand. He sat down beside her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She then scowled at him. ‘You’re late as usual.’ She offered him a prawn sandwich.
‘Thanks, sorry for being late.’
They sat and talked for the next thirty-five minutes. Ross noted that Swan was anxious. ‘There’s something on your mind about, the Onyx Cross, isn’t there?’
Swan leant forward. Clasping his hands, he looked out at the sun’s reflection on the lake, as it made the ripples flash like highly polished steel blades. ‘I don’t like it Janet. Things have gone all too quiet, with our Mr Fleischer.’
Ross also leant forward, looking directly into his eyes. ‘Well, it maybe, he was so relieved just to get away, he will now disappear into the woodwork and lick his wounds for a while.’
‘I hope you’re right, Darling. But what worries me, is that after all the activity, we’ve had from him over the past few months, there has been nothing, since I got back from Hamburg. Not a trace’
Ross looked at her watch. ‘I better be heading back, I’ve got to take minutes for a meeting this afternoon.’
Swan nodded ‘Yes, of course. I’ll walk with you and get the tube to Westminster.’
They rose from the bench and Janet tossed the empty sandwich bag into the rubbish bin next to her. As she turned, she saw Swan smiling at someone approaching them. He was a short man with tousled blonde hair and wore a grey suit, with a navy-blue tie.
Swan went over to him and Ross, curious as to who this man could be, followed a few steps behind.
The man stopped in front of them, speaking with a Mid-American accent. ‘Alex Swan, would you believe it? How ya doing ol’ buddy?’
Swan returned pleasantries with the man, introduced him to Ross. ‘Janet, this is my old friend Clinton Sanger. He’s in charge of the Archives Office at the American Embassy.’
The American smiled and shook her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Janet.’ He turned to Swan, giving him a complimentary smile. ‘So, Alex, this sure is a surprise. How long has it been? A few years, that’s for sure. I think the last time was when I told you about the Eagle’s Lance?’
‘That’s right, it was Clinton. And bloody valuable it was too.’
Sanger nodded. He knew that informing Swan of this American secret patriotic society had led to their plans being foiled, averting a major disaster.
‘So, Alex, what are you working on right now?’
‘I’m on the hunt for some neo-Nazis, as it so happens. They seem to want to do some nasty things to our space programme, and maybe even yours too.’
Sanger laughed. ‘Don’t forget Alex, our space programme is full of Nazis, but they’ll still be putting us on the Moon in a few days. So, who are these guys?’
‘An outfit calling themselves the Onyx Cross. They tried to sabotage our Black Arrow project.’
‘The Onyx Cross, after the two crosses old Goering had specially made?’
‘The very same. In fact, their leader, may even have one of those crosses.’
Sanger was shocked. ‘I thought that they perished in the bombing of his residence in Berlin? Why do you think this guy, has maybe got one of them?’
‘Because when I raided his house with the BND in Hamburg, a few weeks ago, I found a red case, that looked as though it could have contained one, but it was empty.’
Sanger whistled. ‘Jeez! That would be some find, Alex, to discover they didn’t get destroyed.’
Swan agreed.
Sanger was curious. ‘So where is this guy, now?’
Swan looked doubtful. ‘Haven’t a clue, Clinton. The last trace we had, was that he fled to Miami.’
Sanger gulped. ‘He’s, in the States?’
Swan nodded. ‘It looks like it. Where though, Clinton is anybody’s guess. I was wondering if he may have any connections at Cape Canaveral. I found a map in a secret room in his house, and on it were some pictures of birds, which are actually codenames for his operatives. According to this map, you have an Albatross and a Cormorant, over there.’
Sanger suddenly looked intrigued. ‘So, these could be agents, working at Kennedy?’
‘Precisely that, Clinton. I have tried to convince the CIA, but have been advised by MI5, there just isn’t enough evidence to warrant going through the entire German workforce at NASA, to find them. And even then, who knows they are even German? His agent at Highdown, turned out to be French.’
Sanger looked out at the lake, pondering on these thoughts for a few moments. ‘We’re two days away from achieving the greatest human accomplishment, this world has ever seen, and you’re saying, we could have a saboteur waiting to strike? So, all we can do now, is sit on our butts, and hope and pray, Eagle touches down safely.’
Swan jolted as if a bolt of lightning had hit him in the face. He stared wide-eyed at Ross. ‘Oh, my god! Eagle, is the name for the lunar lander?’