Agent 49

By Gerald Brence

Master thief is recruited by the government to spy on a plot to commit one of the greatest crimes in the 1940s. Billy Hathaway was just another thrill-seeking young man until he was involved in a drunken Saturday night brawl. After being thrown in jail, he is recruited by the government. His assignment is to keep an eye on a young scient

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Mar 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781950947959

Gerald Brence

Gerald Brence. Old Money is his third novel. His first novel, Ox in the Culvert, is a historical fiction story about the California Gold Rush. His second novel, Agent 49, is also a historical fiction novel. It is about a master thief who is recruited by the government to spy on a plot to commit one of the greatest crimes of the century. His first book, The 70-3- Split, is non-fiction. It is about high school football.

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Agent 49

Copyright © 2020 by Gerald Brence

Published in the United States of America

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-950947-94-2

ISBN eBook: 978-1-950947-95-9

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of ReadersMagnet, LLC.

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This book is dedicated to the brave Americans who sacrificed their identity to serve our country.

if you can’t explain it easily, you don’t know enough about it.

—Albert Einstein

Part 1

May 1939

New York City

1

Time was running out in the spring semester at Townsend Harris High School. Mr. Bill Underwood, one of the school’s best teachers, had lost control of his last-period Advanced Physics class. The final exam was tomorrow, and he had given his class time to prepare on their own. That kind of thinking usually didn’t work well in a high school, and all the students wanted to do was talk.

Sitting on the second row, a young man named Ted Hall sat with his feet propped up on his desk. He was trying to impress the female student who was sitting next to him. Mr. Underwood was not amused, so he decided to approach the student. Please take your feet down, Mr. Hall, he said.

Mr. Underwood knew Ted was waiting for the order. He was bored, and students who are bored easily get into trouble. Ted immediately did as he was told and put his feet on the floor.

Mr. Underwood continued to press him. Do you not feel that it is in your best interest to study for the exam? he asked.

Ted smiled before he said anything. Finally, he decided to answer. No, I’ve got it under control. He was hoping that the girl sitting next to him would notice his bravado.

Mr. Underwood waited for a few seconds before he responded. Suddenly, his temperament changed, and he got very serious. Would you like to give the class a tutoring session?

Ted snapped his head to attention and focused on Mr. Underwood. By now, there was a roaring sound in the room caused by all the chatter.

It didn’t take long for Ted to give him an answer. Without saying a word, he stood up and walked to the front of the class. The roar slowly calmed down. Within thirty seconds, there was no sound at all.

Ted picked up a piece of chalk with his right hand and pitched it up into the air. Casually, he caught it with his left hand. By then, every student in the class was propped up on a desk with pencil and paper ready to go. Ted commenced to give a detailed lesson that covered the high points they would need to know for the exam. He all but told them the answers.

Mr. Underwood knew he could never cover as much ground and hold everyone’s attention as well as his student aide.

Ted barely took a breath for twenty minutes. A handsome senior raised his hand to ask a question.

Ted was quick to address him. No questions now, please. I don’t want to stop the flow of information. I will be glad to answer any question after class.

He looked up at the clock. There were only a couple of minutes left before the bell rang. It was time for him to go on a rant. He always did that when he got an opportunity.

The big issue of our time is that of nuclear fission,Ted began. You must be aware of it. There are studies being conducted right now about uranium and plutonium. It has been discovered that particles of those materials can be split. The split will lead to a chain reaction of more splits. It will create new energy, a multiplier effect that will change the way the world will develop power sources.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Most of the students gathered their belongings and made their way to the door. Four senior boys and one junior girl came to the front to ask Ted questions. He calmly answered every one.

It took an hour before he was finished. Finally, Mr. Underwood walked toward him with a smile on his face. His favorite student had come through for him again.

Have you shared my ideas with your brother on next year’s class schedule? Mr. Underwood asked.

Ted gathered his books and started to leave. He looked back at Mr. Underwood. I showed him. He agreed with everything you advised.

Ted said good-bye to Mr. Underwood and left the room. He was in a hurry. There was a youth league baseball game that he was supposed to play in that evening.

Mr. Underwood chuckled as he watched Ted leave. He had all but forgotten that Ted Hall was only fourteen years old.

Long Island,

New York

2

Leo Szilard was upset. It had been brought to his attention that Germany had seized the uranium mines of Czechoslovakia. It was clear to him now: the Nazis were going to attempt to develop a bomb using nuclear fission.

Two of his closest associates, Edward Teller and Eugene Wigner, had been in close contact. All three of the master physicists had been following the developments, and they all feared the urgency of the situation. Szilard was in his car headed to see his most valued mentor. He needed to show him the evidence.

Szilard parked in the driveway and waited. He had been to this house many times. There was nobody home. The owner’s bicycle was gone. That meant he had left on an errand.

Szilard waited for fifteen minutes. Sure enough, the old college professor arrived riding his bike. He had never bothered to learn how to drive a car. Szilard noticed that the bicycle was weaving from left to right. It was like watching a child who was just learning to ride.

Suddenly, the bike’s front wheel hit the curb. The bicycle, along with the great Albert Einstein, crashed into the concrete.

Years ago, it was Einstein who created the mathematical equation that explained how matter could be changed into energy. Soon, scientists started using the equation to unlock nuclear power. It didn’t take long until thoughts of developing a dominant weapon rippled throughout the science community. The end result could be that a bomb would be developed to destroy an entire city. That might lead to a bomb that could destroy an entire nation.

To Szilard, the evidence was overwhelming. He believed it was obvious that the Germans were going to stockpile all the uranium they could mine and develop a bomb. Einstein, the ultimate pacifist, wasn’t so sure. Szilard had been harping about the situation for well over a year, but he could not convince Einstein that it was close to reality.

Szilard exited his car and headed for the wreck. Albert! he screamed. Are you hurt? Oh my goodness!

Einstein never changed expressions. He got up off the ground and tended to his bicycle. It never occurred to him that he needed to dust himself off.

Szilard shook his head.Let’s go in the house,he mildly scolded his hero.

Einstein wasn’t fazed a bit. He rarely spoke. Many people thought it was because he was very shy, but it was mainly because he just didn’t like to talk.

Okay, okay, Einstein said. I fine. I fine.

Szilard couldn’t help but giggle. The comic relief forced some laughter as the two men sauntered into the house. The heavy air of Szilard’s worries needed a break.

Let’s make some tea, he said to Einstein. Here, sit down at the table. I have information to show you.

Einstein did as he was told. Szilard knew that he had finally accepted the truth. The situation was inevitable. Szilard also knew about Einstein’s inner struggle to deal with what it all meant, and what it all meant was that somebody was going to develop a nuclear bomb.

This letter is from Teller and Wigner, Szilard started. I want you to read it.

Einstein took the letter and held it out three feet from his eyes. He had forgotten where he had put his glasses. His hands shook as he read. Szilard watched him closely as he tended to the tea.

Finally, Einstein handed the letter back to Szilard. His head dropped, and tears began to run down his face. This was not what I wanted, he whispered. Why, why it come to this?

Leo Szilard didn’t have an answer, but he knew what needed to be done next. He got down on his knees and looked Einstein in the eyes. Albert, he said quietly. It is time to write the letter. It must come from you.

Both Szilard and Einstein knew that it had to be done. Taking a chance on letting Hitler get a jump on the United States could prove to be a disaster.

The stress of the situation could easily be seen on his face. His intelligence had always haunted him. His memory dove back to the day that he first developed the equation. As time had gone by, it had taken him into a deep stage of depression.

After a couple of minutes, Einstein spoke. I will sign if you will write the letter.

Szilard sat down at an old typewriter and started writing. Einstein sat quietly and drank his tea. It only took fifteen minutes. Leo Szilard already knew what to say.

When he was finished, Szilard pulled the paper out of the typewriter. The zipping sound caused Einstein to quickly shake his head in a strange way. He had never reacted well to unexpected noises.

Are you ready, Albert? Szilard asked.

Einstein’s head was still quivering. Finally, he nodded yes. Szilard rolled his head around a couple of times, straightened his back, and blinked his eyes. He looked at his friend for just a few seconds. Finally, he spoke. Albert Einstein, Old Grove Road, Nassau Point, Peconic, Long Island. August 2, 1939. Once again, he looked at Einstein, who was now staring off into space.

Szilard cleared his throat. F. D. Roosevelt, President of the United States, White House, Washington, DC. Sir…

October 1939

Washington, DC

3

Alexander Sachs was a fine economist, maybe the best in the world. However, his new role as an adviser to the president of the United States had put him into a position that was way outside of his comfort zone.

An aide had delivered a letter to him that had the return name of Albert Einstein. Sachs opened and read the letter as his job description had instructed. He had tried his best to get to the boss, but the commander in chief had been predisposed. Germany had just invaded Poland, and World War II had begun. President Franklin D. Roosevelt was totally occupied with the situation.

Finally, Sachs got his chance for a brief meeting with the president. As he walked through the door of the Oval Office, it was obvious to him that President Roosevelt was very disturbed. The letter from the most well-known scientist in the world would not make him feel any better. The president was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. There was no welcome, no handshake, and no small talk.

Mr. President, Sachs began. I have a letter here for you from Albert Einstein.

President Roosevelt immediately jerked his head upright, and his eyes widened. Let me see it.

Sachs knew he needed to be totally transparent about the situation. I have had it for over a month, he said. I just couldn’t get in to see you.

The president took the envelope and removed the letter. Quietly, he read it to himself. It seemed to Sachs that it took an hour. When the president was finished, he gently put the letter back into the envelope and placed it in the drawer of his desk. The look on his face was scary. The president was dealing with quite a bit of pain in his legs and hips from the polio virus that had ravaged his body. However, he tried with all his might to hide it.

Sit down, Alex, the president said softly. Would you like some coffee or tea?

Alexander Sachs did as he was told. I would love some coffee.

The president rolled his wheelchair all the way to the door. He twisted the doorknob and whispered to his secretary. Missy, would you mind fetching us some coffee?

Missy LeHand never blinked. Yes, sir, Mr. President. Immediately, she was out of her chair and down the hallway. And, Missy, the president yelled. Please ask Mr. Donovan to come to my office.

The president rolled the wheelchair back to his desk and fumbled through his files. After he found what he wanted, he rolled the wheelchair back toward Sachs. Once he was settled, he started reading the file.

Alexander Sachs was very nervous.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Enter, the president called out.

The door opened, and two black men dressed in white jackets and black ties walked in pushing a cart.

Alexander Sachs wasn’t used to such treatment.

The first servant took the round top off the tray and started pouring coffee. Would you like sugar, sir? he asked Sachs.

Sachs simply nodded.

After both Sachs and the president were served, the men cleaned up the tray. The door was still open. Sachs was trying to enjoy his coffee when he looked to his right. There stood a short serious-looking man. The sight of the stranger scared him, and he couldn’t help but spill some of his coffee on the couch. The servants rushed to the scene and took over. Obviously, Sachs was embarrassed. He tried to rise off the couch without spilling the entire cup.

Don’t get up! the short serious man said. It was my fault. I didn’t mean to startle you.

Everything calmed down after a few seconds. Sachs stared into the stranger’s eyes. A thought suddenly struck him: he wished he had never accepted the president’s job offer to become an adviser. This was not the kind of work that he was accustomed to performing.

The president interrupted the awkward moment. Alex, this is Bill Donovan, he said. He specializes in security matters.

The president rolled back over to his desk. He reached into the drawer and picked up the letter. Then he fumbled it, dropping it onto the floor. As he reached down to pick it up, Sachs thought for a moment the president was going to fall out of the wheelchair.

Before he handed the letter to Donovan, the president addressed the servants. You are dismissed, he said anxiously. The men scurried out of the room and closed the door as they exited.

Here, the president said to Donovan. I need you to read this.

The man named Donovan walked over to the president’s desk. It only took him a couple of minutes to read the letter. Quickly,he folded it and put it back into the envelope. Then he handed it back to the president.

In the meantime, not a word was said in the room.

The president suddenly seemed energized. I will organize an advisory committee to look into this, he said. We’ll call it the Advisory Committee on Uranium. We have to stay ahead of them. He looked at Alexander Sachs. Well, Alex, you did a great thing for your country today. Thanks for your advice.

Both the president and Donovan looked at Sachs. Sachs looked back at both of them.

It got quiet.

Suddenly, Sachs figured out what he needed to do next, so he stood up. Is there anything else?

The president turned his head and stared out the window of the Oval Office for a few seconds. Neither Sachs nor Donovan said a word. The president was obviously deep in thought. He dropped the back of his head down onto his shoulders. He often did that when he was tired.

Suddenly, he looked back at Sachs and Donovan. This must be kept quiet. I mean top secret. He spoke with conviction. Right now, there are only a few people who know about it. We will have to recruit the best scientists in the world. Many of them are very young, you know. He put his right elbow on the arm of his chair and rubbed his chin with his hand.

But we know they can’t be trusted, he suddenly said loudly. Bill, I want you to put a security team together to watch every one of them. Do you understand? I mean all of them.

Bill Donovan nodded back to the president. His loyalty was obviously unquestioned.

Alexander Sachs looked at the president. I am at your disposal, Mr. President. He walked to the door and grabbed the handle.

Slowly, he turned back to face the two men.

They were both staring at him.

He nodded to them out of respect and left the room.

4

Bill Donovan and Franklin Roosevelt had a very odd relationship. They first met as law school classmates at Columbia University. Neither paid much attention to the other, and they were total opposites on their view of politics. Both native New Yorkers, Donovan had been an excellent football player who came from a rough Irish neighborhood in Buffalo. He was quiet and kept his nose to the grindstone all the time. Roosevelt came from a wealthy family in Hyde Park. He was terrible at sports and was not a very serious law school student.

However, that’s the way the roots of a political connection materialize. Donovan joined the New York National Guard and took his place as the leader of the pack. In 1916, his unit was mobilized to fight Pancho Villa on the US-Mexican border.

The rest, as they say, is history. Bill Donovan became a war hero of the highest magnitude. In 1932, he took a shot at running for governor of New York as a Republican. After being soundly defeated, he realized that he was much more suited to work behind the scenes in his world of politics.

Roosevelt, a Democrat, worked his way into the highest political office of the land, the presidency. When the threat of war escalated, he needed someone whom he knew he could absolutely trust. He had noticed that many of Donovan’s predictions about global issues had come to fruition just as he said they would. The president needed to get the country organized for a possible major war, and that was when he decided to call on Bill Donovan.

Donovan lobbied for two major bargaining points before accepting the job: he only wanted to report to the president himself, and he basically wanted an open checkbook in order to perform his duties. He got both.

There were problems with the arrangement. Immediately, a rivalry flared up against the FBI chief, Herbert Hoover. Donovan wasn’t well-liked by many. He knew that loyalty and trust from his subordinates would be dicey if he didn’t recruit them himself, and he needed a lot of people. Skill sets of all kinds would be important, and finding the proper field agents would be critical.

Donovan decided to start with a most trusted friend. One of his old battlefield officers, Cole McAuley, was always just a phone call away. During the war, Donovan noticed McAuley’s attention to detail, and they formed a strong bond. When Donovan needed an intelligence officer, he assigned McAuley to the job. It turned out that McAuley was a natural at espionage and behind-the-scenes tactics.

He became the best intelligence officer that Bill Donovan ever had.

Donovan knew that Cole McAuley would never say no to his old commanding officer. Strong loyalties are like that. The two men met at McAuley’s office inside his parish in Washington, DC. After his soldiering days, McAuley had become a Catholic priest.

Donovan started the conversation. Cole, I need your services. A new organization has been formed that I will be leading. I’m thinking of naming it the Office of Strategic Services. We’ll refer to it as the OSS. We will need to recruit both men and women as field agents, support staff, and the like. It will be top secret. I will recruit them and bring them to you. You size them up and train them. We will have to organize a system for doing this. You are the best person for the job.

Father Cole McAuley smiled at Bill Donovan. He opened a cabinet by his desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. Then he started laughing.

Whoa, he answered. You know I’ll do it, sir, but we need to slow down a little. I’m too old for this line of work, don’t you think?

Donovan, however, had already picked up on the vibe of McAuley’s enthusiasm. He leaned over and accepted the brandy. All you do is train the personnel, he answered. "And, of course, help with the follow through