Wild Bill and the Spy catcher

“I’m sorry we aren’t having this meeting in my office, Lt. Helm.” Wild Bill Donovan, creator of OSS spoke softly in a low sigh. The war was affecting everyone’s level of optimism. It was a struggle to just stay hopeful. The Washington monument loomed ahead of them as they strolled. “That’s alright with me, sir. I’m getting used to it.” Bill was older, feeling the cold, he pulled his trench coat tighter around himself, the bulge of his shoulder holster apparent to anyone interested. He didn’t care about spycraft. The Lt. looked smaller, bespeckled, innocuous. The perfect spy. “We’ve had you track down enemies of the United States. Your record is impressive.” “Thank you. Sir.” The Lt. was trying to gauge this spymaster’s drift. He was acting oddly. “What is it?” He asked bluntly. Bill Donovan winced, unable to accept what he himself was about to say. “It’s an off worlder. He’s funneling technology to the Nazi’s.” There was a grey nip in the air, the low slate clouds were uncaring. “I thought so.” The Lt. said with a clenched jaw muscle. “…Nordhousen, I saw the disc ships. Incredible speed. Also, the South Pacific…” Donovan interrupted the earnest Lt. “This one is here, in the United States. He’s setting up a testing facility out in Nevada, for God knows what.” Lt. Helm frowned, “Where is he getting financing?” Donovan’s voice was cold, resolved to the crisis. “Krupp works, Berlin…through shell companies.” Then the old man regained some of his casual composure and almost smiled. “But first you have to take care of your little brother. He may be in over his head.” Lt. Helm was surprised, “Roy? At Oak Ridge?” Donovan growled again. “He’s not much with the women, is he, being a nuclear chemist, but a real looker got on his wave length. Check her out. If he just needs to get laid, let me know. I’ll send one of our Navy women volunteers out to him. He’s in a sensitive position. We can’t have Nazi women spies seducing our atom bomb builders.”