Secret Army - Robert Muchamore Page 0,4

hoped you wouldn’t say that,’ Walker said stiffly. ‘But rather suspected you would.’

‘Square peg in the proverbial round hole, I’m afraid, sir.’

‘You’re really convinced that training up boys to work undercover is going to give us an edge?’

‘Absolutely no doubt in my mind, sir,’ Henderson said firmly. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to put in a word about the parachute training?’

Walker pushed his chair back from the table slightly and sighed. ‘You’re a good man, Henderson, but I’m not the only one with doubts about your scheme. The intelligence services have very limited resources and I’m not at all convinced that we should expend them on parachute training for twelve-year-olds who are emotionally unsuited for undercover operations.’

Henderson was dismayed by this sudden turn of events. He felt short of air and tugged at his collar. ‘Sir,’ he said anxiously, ‘the operation I led against the invasion barges was a huge success. The children I used behaved superbly and their youth was an advantage because the Nazis didn’t suspect them. We had a letter from the minister indicating that the Prime Minister himself approved …’

Now Walker sounded irritated. ‘Commander, I’m well aware of the circumstances surrounding the formation of your unit. However, many people have the ear of the Prime Minister and his decisions are not irrevocable. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Henderson nodded, struggling to contain his anger.

‘At present, I’m not prepared to authorise parachute training or any other additional resources for Espionage Research Unit B and I further warn you that the entire future of your unit is under review.’

‘Sir, could I ask that my unit at least be given a chance to prove itself ? I know resources are scarce, but we’re close to having an operational espionage unit that could give the Boche a bloody nose. At least let me speak to the people conducting this review.’

Walker stood up and threw down the napkin that had been on his lap. ‘Your little unit is a ridiculous distraction,’ he said. ‘If you are to play any part in the review process, you’ll be informed in due course. Now I have to get back to Baker Street.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Henderson said.

As Air Vice Marshal Walker headed across the thick carpet and out towards the cloakroom, Henderson loosened his collar, rubbed his reddened brow and wondered how to save his unit.

CHAPTER THREE

Troy looked up. His one good eye sensed that the light coming down through cracks in the wooden doors was starting to fade. By his calculation they’d been in the cellar for eighteen hours. They’d had a couple of visits from boys coming through the small metal side door to take up buckets of coal, and one of the cooks had brought them a tin of water and a paper bag filled with vegetable scraps.

‘Stop rubbing your eyes,’ Troy warned, speaking in French. ‘You’ll make it worse.’

Mason took his blackened hand out of his eye, apparently close to tears again. ‘I can’t help it,’ he whined. ‘It hurts.’

The dust from the coal tickled throats and burned eyes. It crept inside their clothes, making everything itch, and sharp fragments on the floor had cut their feet.

‘How much longer?’ Mason groaned, as he threw a piece of coal against the metal door.

‘I don’t know,’ Troy said.

‘How long is it now?’

Troy sighed. ‘They put us down here at bedtime last night. Now it’s getting dark, so it must be nearly four o’clock.’

Mason counted on his fingers. ‘Almost a whole day,’ he said finally. ‘They must come and get us out soon.’

‘They might keep us here for a week for all we know,’ Troy said irritably. ‘And stop asking the exact same questions. You’re driving me insane.’

‘We should run away when we get out,’ Mason said.

‘And go where?’ Troy asked angrily. ‘We’re in the middle of Wales. It’s snowy outside, we’ve got no money and we’ll stick out a mile because of our accents.’

‘I can talk,’ Mason suggested. ‘My English is better than yours.’

‘Why didn’t you make your bed properly?’ Troy asked. ‘I’ve shown you twenty times. It’s not that hard.’

‘It’s not my fault we ended up down here,’ Mason said. ‘You hit Mr Williams.’

‘Shut up,’ Troy snapped. ‘I was trying to help you.’

Mason shook his head and sent another piece of coal clanging against the metal door.

‘If you keep doing that they’ll come down from the kitchens and belt us,’ Troy warned.

‘I’m running away,’ Mason said defiantly. ‘I’d rather freeze than live here.’

*

Superintendent Eileen McAfferty was greatly relieved as she spotted the sign