must have full sets of engineering drawings somewhere.’
‘I’ve told you all I know,’ Marc said. ‘I don’t like it either. I’ve got cows to milk no matter how late I get home.’
‘German arseholes,’ Louis said, as he turned to walk away. ‘Shouldn’t be using a kid your age anyway.’
‘Smooth talker,’ Rufus said, smiling at Marc as Louis disappeared around the side of the coal shed.
Marc reached the top of the ladder and swung back an inspection hatch. The diesel fumes made his eyes sting as he looked inside. Khinde passed up the canvas bag and a few seconds later the first phosphorous bomb sploshed down into the tank.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
14:48 The Farm
There were two labourers working somewhere out in the fields, but to all intents Rosie was alone. She’d spent the morning making sure everything was packed. After preparing lunch for Eugene and the other two prisoners who worked on the farm she’d gutted three chickens Eugene had killed before he left for Calais on a bike and put them in the oven together with a leg of pork.
As three o’clock approached she crossed the road and the overgrown field of a neighbouring farm, eventually reaching a cottage with a small shed at the end of the garden. She checked the battery meter on the transmitter before flicking the power switch and watching the familiar orange glow of the valves behind the perforated metal grille.
Every Morse operator has slightly different preferences and as Henderson had used the key last, Rosie adjusted a pair of knobs to set the keying height and the power of the spring. The set was still warming up so she tapped out I FEEL SORRY FOR GUTTED CHICKENS, to make sure she had everything right before plugging in the Morse key and her headphones.
On the stroke of three Rosie double checked the frequency dial and began to transmit a coded message saying that everything was fine. Usually, McAfferty would only transmit a short phrase to say that she’d received the message, but today she transmitted more and Rosie jotted down the letters. When the transmission ended, she took out a pencil and decoded the message.
TELL SERAPHIM ALL IS GOOD. 337 BIRDS SET FOR RAID. WEATHER CLEAR. YOU’LL BE HOME IN TIME FOR BREAKFAST. LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU, MCAFFERTY OUT.
16:21 Calais
It was a warm afternoon and the stuffy meeting room was giving Henderson a headache. He stood at the head of a table beside an SS officer translating a long rant from the chairman of the Calais Chamber of Commerce.
‘… furthermore, we feel that it is impossible to work in an environment where the Germans do business with a gun to our head. The army sets ridiculously low prices for our goods and labour and if we refuse to sign contracts on their terms either our businesses are confiscated, or the goods are requisitioned. The French economy will be nothing but ashes if affairs continue in this way.’
The SS officer stood up and spoke angrily. ‘The Reich is at war and French business must serve the war economy, in addition to this—’
Before the German uttered another word, the glass rattled and it felt like the air was being sucked out of the entire room. In the next instant the window frames flew inwards. A huge roaring sound filled the air, the floor shook and broken glass sprayed across the tabletop, embedding itself deep into the far wall.
Henderson shielded his face as his body was thrown back against the fireplace behind him. At first a few stones and a chunk of masonry blew across the table, then the entire room was engulfed in dust.
The Frenchmen around the table cursed, but had only suffered cuts. Outside in the cobbled square were screams and a loud crash as a blinded truck driver swerved into an oncoming horse and cart. There seemed no chance that the meeting could continue, but Henderson feared that the SS officer might require him for some investigative task, so he bolted out into the corridor.
The rooms on one side of the long hallway had taken the full blast of the explosion in the headquarters building across the square. People working in the offices at the back were only affected by noise and vibrations. They gawped in shock as colleagues poured into the hallways, dusty, coughing and with glass shards embedded in their flesh.
An emergency siren blared as Henderson bounded down a set of fire stairs. He made it out into the square and the dust had