Murder Under the Mistletoe and Other Stories by Cynthia Manson

Author:Cynthia Manson [Manson, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0451174410
Publisher: Signet
Published: 1992-11-02T21:00:00+00:00

THE SPY AND THE CHRISTMAS CIPHER

Edward D. Hoch

It was just a few days before the Christmas recess at the University of Reading when Rand’s wife Leila said to him over dinner, “Come and speak to my class on Wednesday, Jeffrey.”

“What? Are you serious?” He put down his fork and stared at her. “I know nothing about archaeology.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to tell them a Christmas story of some sort. Remember last year? The Canadian writer Robertson Davies was over here on a visit and he told one of his ghost stories.”

“I don’t know any good ghost stories.”

“Then tell them a cipher story from before you retired. Tell them about the time you worked through Christmas Eve trying to crack the St. Ives cipher.”

Ivan St. Ives. Rand hadn’t thought of him in years.

Yes, he supposed it was a Christmas story of sorts.

It was Christmas Eve morning in 1974, when Rand was still head of Concealed Communications, operating out of the big old building overlooking the Thames. He remembered his superior, Hastings, making the rounds of the offices with an open bottle of sherry and a stack of paper cups, a tradition that no one but Hastings ever looked forward to. A cup of government sherry before noon was not something to warm the heart or put one in the Christmas spirit.

“It promises to be a quiet day,” Hastings said, pouring the ritual drink. “You should be able to leave early and finish up your Christmas shopping.”

“It’s finished. I have no one but Leila to buy for.” Rand accepted the cup and took a small sip.

“Sometimes I wish I was as well organized as you, Rand.” Hastings seemed almost disappointed as he sat down in the worn leather chair opposite Rand’s desk. “I was going to ask you to pick up something for me.”

“On the day before Christmas? The stores will be crowded.”

Hastings decided to abandon the pretense. “They say Ivan St. Ives is back in town.”

“Oh? Surely you weren’t planning to send him a Christmas gift?”

St. Ives was a double agent who’d worked for the British, the Russians, and anyone else willing to pay his price. There were too many like him in the modern world of espionage, where national loyalties counted for nothing against the lure of easy money.

“He’s back in town and he’s not working for us.”

“Who, then?” Rand asked. “The Russians?”

“Perkins and Simplex, actually.”

“Perkins and Simplex is a department store.”

“Exactly. Ivan St. Ives has been employed over the Christmas season as their Father Christmas—red suit, white beard, and all. He holds little children on his knee and asks them what they want for Christmas.”

Rand laughed. “Is the spying business in some sort of depression we don’t know about? St. Ives could always pick up money from the Irish if nobody else would pay him.”

“I just found out about it last evening, almost by accident. I ran into St. Ives’s old girlfriend, Daphne Sollis, at the Crown and Piper. There’s no love lost between the two of them and she was quite eager to tell me of his hard times.

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