One Shot Kill - Robert Muchamore Page 0,29

to be part of any Gestapo trap.’

Rosie gasped with relief as she sat back on her bed. The risks she’d taken weren’t in vain and Edith wasn’t in the hands of German stooges.

‘I should travel back to the west as soon as possible,’ Rosie said. ‘I have no idea how Edith’s doing and the way I disappeared in the dead of night must have seemed rude.’

‘They’ll understand,’ Maxine said, as she pulled an envelope from her tatty handbag.

‘Blank identity documents. There are no photographs of Edith anywhere on file, so there’s a miniature camera, squares of photographic paper and developing chemicals. Most importantly of all, six vials of penicillin.’

‘Was it easy to get hold of?’ Rosie asked.

‘We get it in air drops of American medical kits,’ Maxine explained. ‘We use it to blackmail Germans stricken with gonorrhoea. Penicillin is the only cure, and they’ll do anything not to have to go home to their wives and explain their giant, swollen balls.’

Rosie giggled at the thought, but her mood darkened when she thought of Edith.

‘I just hope Edith’s still alive when I get there,’ Rosie said.

‘There’s a train in three hours. I assume you’re happy to return?’

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You’ve been through a tough few days,’ Maxine said. ‘There’ll be no black mark against you if you say no, but I’d like you to take this operation to the next phase. You’re only sixteen, but you’ve been well trained by Henderson and you can operate a radio independently.’

Rosie looked curious. ‘What’s this next phase?’

‘We need information about the bunker,’ Maxine said. ‘I can provide a camera and film. We need to know the layout, the security arrangements, the number of men on guard, the number of scientists in the bunker, the location of the laboratory. I expect others will be sent in to help you, but to begin it will be down to you and any locals you feel able to trust.’

‘I suppose we can now say Joseph and Doctor Blanc’s loyalty is beyond question,’ Rosie said. ‘They’d probably be willing to help.’

Maxine nodded. ‘A doctor is likely to be well connected. But just because she’s on our side, doesn’t mean she’s discreet. And you’ve got to make it clear that you’re the boss, no matter what your age and gender.’

‘What’s the longer term aim?’ Rosie asked.

‘That depends what you find out and on subsequent decisions taken in London. The bunker could be bombed and destroyed. If it’s heavily reinforced, it may have to be sabotaged from the ground, or mined for information if we can get someone on the inside.’

‘Right,’ Rosie said, as she interlocked her fingers. ‘There’s a lot of decisions to make.’

‘Only one to begin with,’ Maxine said. ‘Are you up for this or not?’

Rosie had dropped into Lorient with an unglamorous mission to help train members of Eugene’s resistance circuit and act as a back-up radio operator. Maxine was offering something a lot meatier.

Part of Rosie wanted to take the easy route and head back to Britain. But she’d always felt that she had to work harder than the boys on campus to prove her worth, and even then she still found herself being pushed into traditionally female roles. This was her chance to put nursing courses and back-up radio operator jobs behind her and prove that she could take command as well as any man.

‘It’s what I’ve trained for,’ Rosie said determinedly. ‘I’ve already made connections in the area and if I don’t take the risks, someone else has to.’

*

The Nazis kept Paris railway stations under close watch, but the Ghost circuit had good connections amongst railway workers.

Rosie made her five-hour train journey in first class. She carried nothing but clothes and toiletries, which made her much less stressed than when she’d gone in the opposite direction a few days earlier.

A young German officer with three missing fingers flirted until mercifully he left the train at Laval. On arrival in Rennes Rosie showed her immaculately counterfeited documents to a Gendarme manning the end-of-the platform checkpoint. Then she walked to a cafe two streets away and sipped vile acorn coffee until the stoker from her train dropped a bag under her table, then disappeared before she could even say thanks.

It was twelve kilometres to the house where she’d left Edith and the only way out was on foot. Luckily it was dry without being too warm, and despite aching feet Rosie burst into a run as the elegant house came into view. Was Edith dead