Now, the special English program American stories. Our story today is called double cross. It was written by *. Here is * with the story. Jennet pulled the page from her typewriter and looked nervously at her wristwatch. It was almost time. From the inner office came sounds of her boss preparing to leave. The sounds were doors opening and closing. These sounds were well-known to her after 8 years as his secretary. Then her boss himself stood at the door, pushing along arm into his top coat. She saw how good he looked in his great suit. It seemed just right against his brain and hair.’ Good night, Mr. Masen.’ She said with a weak smile.’ Good night, Jennet. I’ll see you Monday morning as usual.’ He was quick and friendly. Perhaps she only a margent that look a concern in his eyes as he walked out. Jennet covered her typewriter. She pulled a lipstick and mirror from her purse. Her hands were cold and shaky when she began to written her lips, and run a cone though a hair. There would be no time to stop that the woman’s restaurant this evening to do this. She felt a terror slowly rising up inside herself. How could she ever go though it? But she knew she must. She was too late to retreat. She reached into a drawer and pulled out an neting basket and ball of wall with noodle sticking out. At the bottom of the basket laid three microfilms, each in a metal case. She stared at them, feeling guilty. She felt a nerval shock as the * glue. She stuffed wall back into the basket. She seized her purse and took her last look around the office. Then she walked into the hall, felt what’s a secretaries in clench hurry in home. Doors opened and more workers walked out into the hall. The click of high hears made the pouring of Jennet’s heart seem louder, as she moved alone with the crowd. She was like every Friday. There wasn’t noisy excitement near her. Everyone * to leave their desks. The weekends play ahead. Jennet held her person one end, with a neting basket pucked over her rest. She pushed the way outside into the afternoon sunshine.
‘Easy now.’ she told herself. She stopped to let the crowd flow past. And she looked ahead down the long ramp, leading to the guard gate. Her heart sank. Beside a regular guard *, there was a guard she never saw before. He was helping * inspect the people moving through the gate. He looked there passes and *. He peered into their purses and lunch pairs. More carefully than * it seemed. Jennet retreated to the doorway of the building. As a rule, she did not leave so early, and had forgotten that an extra guard was station at the gate at this hour. She knew there is how tightly she was holding her purse. ‘Be come’ she said to herself, ‘be nature.’ Everything depends on getting through that gate. Getting a microfilm had been easier enough with her security clarions. But getting man passed the guard would be the test. She remembered how she and her husband Charles had gone over step by step what she was to do. They had prepared for months. It is sound it easy when Charles has given her the plan. He had worked it all out even before he told her what he wanted her to do. It was well-known that Jennet was still a young bride. it seem nature therefore to use a neting basket to smuggle a films on the plant. They chose the month when her old friend *, the senior guard on the force took his turn at the gate. She has spent the whole past month working on it. She often left the plant late, and stopped the gate to check within. She talked about his boy who is in the *. And she spoke about the little thing she was neting. A few times she tested him. By being chating, saying nothing about the neting. And then passing a * through without inspection.
The crowd at the gate * and the extra guard wave to * as she moved off in the * direction. Jennet closed her eyes a second and took a deep breath. Now, as naturally as possible, she moved down the round. She hoped the smile on her face did not appear as stiff as it felt. She swirled twice before she greeted her friend. ‘Hello,*, how are you?’ she felt a rush of guilt. As a green broke a cross his face brown but the sound. ‘Good evening Miss. *, you are early tonight.’ ‘Yes, my husband is meeting me *.’ She held out her pass with her picture on it and pulled back her coat so she could see her badge pin to her dress. * not it. ‘ how is the neting?’ this was it. She removed a baby’s woolen booty, and held it out for her inspection. ‘I finish this one, but ham down much on the other. A horn up. Oh, there is my husband after the round. Good night *.’ She wondered if her boy sounded the shaking to him, as it did to her only ears. She crash the booty back into the basket, and squess pass the guard house. She have run on the side wall. *’s good night followed her. She forced herself to remain calm and slow down. She walked toward the green car park to the *, its motor running. She was shaking so much. She could not turn her hand of the door. Charles reached over open it for her, and she slid into the seek the *. He looked at her,’ did you get them? These boys were *.’ She showed the * he must be feeling well sitting there waiting for her the coming through the gate. Yes, she not in but the die feeling. ‘good girl, *.’ The car moved off into the traffic. Did you have any trouble getting a stuff? Charles was pleasant to gain, and gave her *.’ Just try the relax,’ he said,’ everything is all right. How drop you are for the apartment this plan! And then the little the microfilms.’ He turned on the radio, may be some music will calm her. At last, the car turned into a quiet street. Charles reached into the knitting basket, and took the three shiny disks. He put them inside his coat pocket, then handed her the basket. He kissed her.’ See you later.’ She entered her apartment like a person in a *. She crossed to the wide window and looked out. Her husband’s green car was pulling away from a stop light at the end of the street. She looked up and down the street, and then though what she was looking for. A black car moved out from the drive way beyond the apartment house, and followed her husband. Behind the black car was a another one. Inside the car was her boss.’ Well,’ she said to the empty room,’ that’s that.’ But she continued standing looking out into the street. Long after the three cars had disappeared from sight. She still thought none, died. She wondered when she would begin to feel something. The pain and guilt of wave who had betrayed her husband. She thought back over everything at led up to that betray on.
To the night, last 6 weeks after their marriage. She laid with heard on his arm, and his hands gently stroke her hair. He can face to her his connections, and told her what he expected her to do. She remembered * she felt over this terrible request, the shake and disbelieve. Her instinct to being the cry out to rebel. But sound in her voice had warned her to be careful. This was something bigger than just herself and her marriage. A marriage now broken into little pieces. And it had been something bigger than herself which made her tell her boss perfects. His commonest quire it her. She was able later to listen to a plan he developed together with the FBI for her to go along with her husband’s plans. It was almost dark outside when she turned from the window and reached for a table land. She crossed the room, she had shared with Charles’s hip. She took off her coat and opened a door to the clothes closet. She reached a clothes hanger. Suddenly she stopped. One side of the closet was empty, all his clothes were gone. She looked around the room, all his things were gone. As if there never had been such a person as Charles here. She was sharply * by the four meaning of the situation. * had never meant to return. She had just been his tool, married her for his purpose. She wondered how many other tools there had been before her. She started to laugh. Then her lifter turned into saps, great, hiving saps. And she through herself across the ban. As she gave in to a misery, there was a fleeting thought.’ I’ll cry tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll my lawyer. You have heard the story double cross. It was written by *. It was published in * of short short stories, * copy write *. The story teller was *. This is *.