My name is Jennifer Hart…or is it? You may know me by one of the many aliases I have used during my years at THE AGENCY. Let's see…there was Mary Bailey, Natasha Korzakofsky and my personal favorite…Suzanne Lunel (My mother's name). But no, my real name is Jennifer Edwards Hart. I joined the agency seven years ago. That's where I met my husband Jonathan. He came from the Navy with a wealth of knowledge of all things technical. He's an orphan and had used the Navy as a way to pay for college. After graduating he spent a couple of years in Naval intelligence then joined up looking for a bit of a change of pace. I was brought in as a translator initially because I had studied languages at Vassar and Smith. He and I were paired up as husband and wife and I guess it stuck. After two years we were married and until recently had spent most of our time pretending not to be married…if the case warranted. Sometimes we were…sometimes we weren't. But now we at least get to be our selves, the self -made millionaire and his journalist wife. Our home on Willow Pond Road may look like any other upscale home in Bel Air but underneath in the basement is the real world we live in. Our "center of operations" and where we get assignments from our superior officer. No one would ever suspect Jonathan Hart, Founder and CEO of Hart Industries could be anything but a businessman or that his wife was anything but a successful journalist. We moved here and as a cover Jonathan built up a company, legitimate, mind you, as a diversion. Much like my father had used being an art dealer as his cover when he was with The Agency back when it was called the OSS. So, you see, it's in my blood. I didn't even know until I was an adult what his real profession was. My mother died when I was in my teens and I was sent off to boarding school. At the time I thought my father just didn't want me around. The truth was, he was afraid for my safety. So I decided to carry on the Edwards tradition of intrigue and espionage. Our current assignment is to find the last of a trio of Nazi war criminals that my father and his comrades had been unable to find. But all that may be about to change….this is our story…Jonathan's and mine.
The silver Rolls pulled up in front of the sprawling ranch house on Willow Pond Road. Jonathan Hart got out of the car and came around to the other side and opened the door for his wife. Jennifer stepped out and he couldn't help admiring his wife's long, legs that seemed to stretch forever beneath her elegant cobalt blue evening gown. He unlocked the door and let them in and their loyal mutt Freeway eagerly greeted them at the door.
Jennifer bent down and petted him, "How's my baby? Were you a good boy?" to which Freeway barked and sneezed, "Darling, would you get him a treat?"
"You spoil that dog to no end." He said heading into the kitchen with Freeway and Jennifer following behind
As they entered they found their "houseman" Max making a late night snack. Max Brenner, who posed as their houseman, was really their partner in "crime" and senior agent. He had taken Jonathan in when he was a teenager and Jonathan, as a young man, wanted nothing more than to eventually join him
"Hey, Max, how's it going? Any updates from Wainwright?" Jonathan asked referring to Constantine Wainwright, their case officer, how had also been Jennifer's father's superior. He went to the cupboard and got Freeway his treat, spoiled rotten mutt, he thought
"No, not a peep so far." Max replied, "You two want a snack? Did you find out anything tonight?"
"No, thanks, Max." Jennifer replied, "And no we didn't find out a thing about Olbermann. If anyone at that party knew anything, they were not talking, and no sign of him possibly hiding out there either."
"Maybe they're on to us?" Max suggested
Jonathan's brow furrowed, "I doubt that. Subtlety is not their strong suit. We would know it if they were on to us. Besides who would ever suspect Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Hart of being spies."
Jennifer smiled slightly, "Well, we have the perfect cover, Darling, the wealthy businessman and his charming journalist wife. For all they knew I was there to do research for an article on survivors of the holocaust."
"And it helps to be Jonathan Hart and get invited to all these events."
"Well, maybe Wainwright will turn something up on his end." Max said
"Hmmm, maybe." Jennifer replied, "I'm exhausted, I'm going to head up, you coming, darling?"
"I'll be there in a minute." He assured her
"Alright." She said heading out of the kitchen, "Good night, Max."
"Good night, Mrs. H." He always stayed in character, acting as their servant even when no one else was around. As the door closed behind her, he turned to Jonathan, "I still don't know how you got so lucky, kid. That is some woman you got."
Jonathan smiled, "I know, Max, I know and I don't plan on keeping her waiting." He said, "Good night."
He walked up the steps and made his way to the double doors to their master suite and entered to find her changed from her evening gown to a beautiful emerald green negligee. She was in bed reading and as he began to undress they talked about the events of the night. Not a single person at that museum fundraiser would talk about Joseph Olbermann. But they knew through Wainwright that Olbermann had been in contact with someone there. Of course, no one would admit to knowing anything about him but they had hoped someone there might be a rat. There was always one in those situations. Jonathan changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and then joined her in bed.
"Well the evening wasn't a total loss." He said
"Oh?" She replied looking up from her book, "And how is that?"
He smiled, "I got to see you in that blue dress."
She put down her book on the nightstand and moved closer to him and he took her in his arms and she rested her head on his chest, "Darling, do you ever think what it would be like to have a normal life?"
He stroked her back, "Sweetheart, there is nothing normal about us."
"No, I mean it." She said, "What would it be like to just be Mr. and Mrs. Hart. You own a successful corporation and I'm a freelance journalist. No spying, no sneaking around."
He noticed a wistful tone in her voice, as if she longed to be free from the life they had been living, "What's this all about?"
She sighed heavily and could feel his heart beating, "Nothing, I was just wondering."
"No, you weren't just wondering, now what is this all about, Jennifer?"
She pulled back and looked at him with those eyes, those damned eyes he couldn't resist, amber eyes that bore her sole to whoever looked into them, "Jonathan, I'm pregnant."