as she wrote rapidly. ‘I’ve been through and picked out all the names in the text. If these men are real scientists, we should be able to find references to them in French scientific journals.’
‘I don’t have a huge knowledge of electronics, but these drawings seem to be for some kind of electronic system that takes inputs from magnetically charged gyroscopes,’ Joyce said.
Henderson stepped up to the notebook. He wasn’t a scientist, but he had some technical knowledge because his pre-war job with the Espionage Research Unit had involved spying on Britain’s European rivals and getting hold of their military secrets.
‘If this is what I think this is …’ Henderson said, before tailing off as he slid the notebook away from the girls.
‘And what’s that, sir?’ Joyce asked.
‘Before the war, the French had a project to develop a pilotless flying bomb. It was navigated by magnetic gyroscopes.’
Paul looked aghast. ‘That’s absurd. How can anything fly without a pilot?’
‘It’s not absurd at all,’ Henderson said, as he flipped through the pages. ‘We already have magnetic torpedoes that can find a ship’s hull and acoustic torpedoes that home in on the sound of the propeller. Why not an aerial bomb that can guide itself to a target?’
Henderson’s eyes flicked across to one of Joyce’s notes, at the top of which she’d written FZG-76.
‘Why did you write that down?’ Henderson asked, as Marc came into the hut holding a bag of photographic equipment. ‘What is it?’
‘It rang a bell,’ Joyce said. ‘I’ve fixed quite a few undecipherable messages, and I’ve seen references to FZG-76. It’s a secret project. I remember references to launch ramps somewhere in Denmark, so definitely some kind of flying object.’
‘So,’ Paul began thoughtfully, ‘it looks like drawings and notes relating to this pilotless aircraft slash bomb thingy. But none of us knows enough about the technology to tell whether it’s valuable information or a useless crock.’
‘But knowing what we’re looking at is a big help,’ Henderson said. ‘I’ll get on to the Air Ministry and try to pin down an expert on pilotless bombs. Boys, I need you two to set up the photography and get those images ready, so we can send them off to whoever needs to look at them. Girls, excellent work so far. Keep writing down your observations.’
‘No library will be open yet, but when it gets to nine, we can call Mavis Duckworthy at the University of Cambridge library,’ Boo said. ‘They keep complete sets of all the major French scientific journals and she can check the background of the scientists named in the book.’
‘I also want us to start thinking about the bunker where this secret laboratory is supposed to be,’ Henderson said. ‘I’ll try and see if there’s any aerial surveillance images, and I’ll put out some discreet feelers to see if anyone with the Free French5 or the French Section of SIS6 knows anything about the history or layout of the bunker where these men are supposedly being kept.
‘And remember the first golden rule of intelligence work. Speed is important, but accuracy most important of all.’
Notes
5 Free French – A London-based group, led by General Charles de Gaulle. He refused to accept France’s surrender in 1940 and by 1943 many French colonies were under Free French control.
6 SIS – Secret Intelligence Service. The official name for the British intelligence organisation that is now more commonly known as MI6.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Breakfast was put on hold and three other lads were enlisted to help as the campus kitchen became a darkroom. By 10 a.m., more than two hundred freshly developed sixteen-by-twelve-inch photographs were strung out to dry across the tiny school gymnasium.
Two hours later a small Air Ministry passenger plane landed at the American airfield on the far side of campus. The photographs were larger and easier to read than the original notebook and the kids were sent upstairs before two professorish looking brothers named Hughes were let into the gym to inspect them.
At first the brothers had the air of people greatly put out at being ordered away from their London office. This changed to brief jubilation, before they started arguing furiously over the interpretation of one of the drawings.
Henderson interrupted. ‘Gentlemen,’ he began firmly, ‘The life of at least one agent depends upon an accurate assessment of whether this is genuine intelligence or misinformation fed to us by the Germans. Can we concentrate on that before you bicker over details?’
The younger Hughes turned to Henderson. ‘This notebook is the work of a French scientist