Chapter 9.
The Recruitment of Barbara
The time had come for Ludlow to completely reveal himself to Barbara. A thorough background investigation had been discreetly conducted; as he had hoped and expected, Barbara’s credentials checked out. Over a period of a few weeks Ludlow initiated a series of seemingly impromptu conversations regarding the current world conflict against terrorism. He judiciously broached the subject of patriotism with her, particularly the area of one’s patriotic duty to Queen and Country.
Ludlow determined that the young girl’s angst was nothing more than usual for a person her age, a healthy questioning of the ways of the world and a natural anxiety concerning one’s place within society, and was pleased to discover a strong patriotic sentiment within her. The long list of atrocities visited upon innocents by the terrorist forces had made rebellious anti-establishment sentiments of the past blasé and irrelevant. Barbara recognised this as a war for the very survival of Western civilization itself. Encouraged by the emotion he saw in her eyes as she voiced her opinions, Ludlow carefully went about the recruitment of Barbara.
They sat at his table, the morning sunlight pouring in as they enjoyed their morning tea and toast. He had already gotten up earlier to do his morning callisthenics and was already showered and shaved. She wore one of his shirts and apart from a skimpy pair of lacy white panties, nothing else.
“Barbara, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said in a flat tone that caught her attention. The young girl looked at him in a peculiar way; expectant, curious.
“It’s time for you to know a little more about me.”
“You’re married.”
“No,” he laughed, “not that.”
“You’re HIV-positive.”
“No, not that either. I can show you test results if you wish,” he assured her.
“What, then? You couldn’t possibly be gay,” Barbara mused aloud.
“No,” he laughed. “What I want to tell you is that I’m not exactly a graduate student.”
“What? You just hang out here because you’re a schoolgirl groupie?” she asked in jest.
“That’s it,” he replied with a grin. Barbara smiled at this and the tension was broken. Whatever the news was, the big two had already been shot down. Her natural curiosity as a woman bedevilled her, and she was eager to learn what it was he wished to impart.
Ludlow went to a sideboard, withdrew some things from a drawer and laid them out on the table. They were official government identification cards, firearms licences, a passport and driver’s license; all of which sported Ludlow’s photograph but with a different name.
“This is me,” he said. “I usually keep these locked away in a safe, in London.”
Barbara was puzzled. “What does it mean?”
“It means that the name you know me as, Jonathon Ludlow, is a persona.”
“You’re not . . . . . . you?” she asked, trying to piece it all together.
“I can assure you that I most definitely AM me,” he said. “Think of Jonathon Ludlow simply as a
nom de plume
, or perhaps, more appropriately, a
nom de guerre.
”
Barbara knew the meaning of this phrase:
nom de guerre
, or ‘war-name’, as opposed to a writers’
nom de plume
; ‘pen-name’. She still struggled to put it all together. “Who are you?” she asked, a shrewd look developing about her eyes that Ludlow found incredibly sexy.
“The fact that I don’t go by my true identity is not particularly significant, it’s merely a security measure. You may as well know, my real name is Patrick Cochran, as you can see for yourself from the documents before you. I am Irish by birth, born in the Republic down in County Galway. I immigrated to Canada at the age of twenty-two following some nasty involvement in the Troubles. My Canadian citizenship allows me a certain degree of flexibility in travelling abroad; Canadians are viewed with as somewhat neutral by governments and people that normally view Britain and America in a hostile manner.”
“I think I’m beginning to get it now,” she said quietly. His next words confirmed her growing suspicions, as far-fetched as they seemed to her incredulous ears.
“I work in the service of her Majesty’s Government. Because of my previous involvement in certain Irish revolutionary organizations, that in itself is reason enough to mask my identity, to protect my family from reprisals, if nothing else. I work for a department of the Intelligence Services, an organization that is so compartmented, buried so deep beneath layers of bureaucracy that it is known simply as ‘The Organization’. Our mission is counter-intelligence; that is, the ferreting out of hostile intelligence services’ operations, and the elimination of such operations.”
“Elimination?”
“By whatever means necessary,” he replied tersely. “This war we are in against the terrorist forces is a new kind of war; a secret war, but a war nonetheless. We practise war in its’ purest form, if such a concept is legitimate, but this war, like all wars, has a side that is rude, crude and extremely brutal, of that I can assure you.”
The dark shadow that crossed the pretty young girl’s face, the shudder he detected in her body reassured him; Barbara was no young idealist. The concept of cloak and dagger held no inspiring lure of false glory for her.
“If all of this is so absolutely secret, then why are you telling me?” she asked, quite astutely.
This was the point in the conversation that Ludlow had anticipated, had tried to prepare himself for, had agonized over for weeks. Would she believe now that their meeting at the art exhibition was entirely spontaneous, that their love was genuine, or would the proposal he was about to offer darken her heart out of a sense of betrayal, a feeling that she had been used all along? He chose his next words very carefully.
“Sooner of later, Barbara, it would be necessary that you find out, one way or the other.”
She remained silent. He continued. “We met, we’re having a love affair. It’s a beautiful thing. For our love to go on, the truth about me has become a burden that must be released.”
Barbara nodded her head slightly, indicating agreement, approval. Her eyes signalled doubt, however. He sensed her suspicion that perhaps their affair was nothing more than a game, a part of some undercover campaign; that she was nothing more than a pawn in the shadow war that governments and anti-governments were currently embroiled in.
“I love you, too, Jonathon. I’m sorry, I can’t think of you as ‘Patrick’. I love Jonathon, or at least I think I do. Oh, it’s so very confusing!”
“It’s okay, Barbara. You can call me whatever you like. Nowadays I go by Jonathon Ludlow. As far as I’m concerned, Patrick Cochran ceased to exist a long, long time ago. Merely an identity I use for official purposes only anymore.”
“Jonathon, Patrick, how many other names do you go by? How many other women do you love?” the young woman was on the edge of despair; it was a very delicate moment for Jonathon to navigate.
“Well, Barbara, I won’t lie; there have been others in the past. And while it’s true that a man, or a woman for that matter, can make love to multiple partners, practically at the same time upon occasion, I personally believe that it’s impossible to have romantic love for more than one person. I love you, Barbara. My heart is yours and yours alone, as I’m sure yours is for me.” He paused, then went on. “I don’t know where our love is to go, but I want it to go on forever. You are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.” This was the most sublime moment of truth in Ludlow’s entire life.
Barbara beamed, her heart flooded with a warm glow of love for this peculiar man sitting before her, this most improbable secret agent. She reached across the table and took his hands in hers. “I love you, Jonathon, or whoever you are. I think you’re the most beautiful man in the world.” She had to release one hand from her grasp of his to wipe the tears that threatened to flow like water. She was overwhelmed by the emotion that flooded her being. “I don’t care who you are. I love you.”
He was overcome with an incredible sense of relief at successfully revealing the truth about himself to her. He wasn’t quite out of the woods, yet, however. One delicate matter had been successfully negotiated, but another still remained.
“There’s something else I need to go over with you, Barbara,” he said in a quiet voice.