information. It wasn’t at all what she was expecting. ‘May I ask a question, sir?’
‘Go on.’
‘If he was a deserter, in hiding, how did he manage to tell the Germans about what we were doing?’
‘Well, obviously he didn’t.’
Years afterwards, whenever she allowed her mind to go back to Arnaud – which was rarely – she was to remember this moment as the worst of all.
The major said, ‘At about one o’clock this morning, the Radio Security Service intercepted a shortwave transmission from Mechelen to Berlin, which they were able to trace to a block of flats in town. The building was cordoned off, the residents detained and questioned, all the apartments were searched. A radio transmitter was found in the home of a local teacher. According to our friends in the resistance, he’s long been suspected as a collaborator, but there was no proof and in the end they left him alone. I think you know what I’m going to tell you next.’
She bowed her head. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Section Officer Colville spent part of the evening in this man’s flat. She’s insistent she never told him anything about her work, and he’s refusing to talk, even though he’s almost certain to be hanged as a spy. But …’ He rolled his eyes in disbelief and opened one of his paw-like fists. ‘Let’s just say the text of the radio transmission suggests otherwise.’
Knowsley said, ‘She is very indiscreet, unfortunately.’
‘Oh God,’ said Kay, ‘poor Barbara.’
‘Poor Barbara indeed.’
‘What will happen to her?’
The major said, ‘She’s on her way back to England. Just between us, I doubt she’ll be prosecuted – there’s no proof we could offer in court.’
Knowsley said, ‘I can, however, safely predict that she’ll lose her commission and be transferred to other duties.’
‘And the Vermeulens?’
The major shrugged. ‘That’s a matter for the Belgians. Jail, certainly, I would have thought. There isn’t a lot of forgiveness in the air, as you’ve probably noticed.’
‘No, sir.’
Knowsley said, ‘Which brings us to you, Section Officer.’ He leaned forward and studied her. ‘Do you want to go back to Medmenham or stay on here? I can’t guarantee the Germans won’t lob another rocket in our direction, but they must know it’s pretty pointless. And if they do – well, it’s one less rocket on London, I suppose.’
She looked at him in surprise. She had come upstairs expecting dismissal, and now she was being offered a choice. She remembered the exhilaration of the previous day – the feeling that she was actually properly at war at last, striking a blow directly at the enemy. It wasn’t really a choice at all. ‘I’ll stay, sir. Thank you.’
‘Good. I’ll tell Flight Officer Sitwell. You can have Colville’s billet tonight, and I’ll see you on duty tomorrow morning.’
She stood and saluted, picked up her case and coat. ‘Could I ask, sir, if the enemy has launched any more V2s today?’
‘Only one,’ said Knowsley, ‘but that seems to have been a misfire. It didn’t fly towards any target, as far as we could tell.’ He made a soaring motion with the flat of his hand. ‘It just went straight up into space.’
21
GRAF STOOD BESIDE THE LAUNCH table, his face raised to the sky, his arms thrown wide, willing his own destruction.
Come on, you bastard! Come home to Papa!
It was pure histrionics. He knew it. Either the easterly wind that had been blowing all day or the winds in the stratosphere, which could reach 200 kilometres per hour, would affect her descent. That was what was absurd about this British effort to calculate the launch positions by extrapolating the parabolic curve. The gyroscopes and the rudders would battle against nature to try to hold her on course. But without electronic guidance by radio signal, the rocket could never fly exactly true.
After five minutes of scanning the clouds, he dropped his arms. She must have been blown out to sea.
He turned and began to walk back through the still-empty woods towards Scheveningen. He felt ready for whatever might come next.
When he reached his hotel an hour later, half a dozen soldiers of the artillery regiment were standing in the passage. They parted silently to let him pass. Upstairs, his door frame was shattered and a couple of Gestapo men were inside the room. They had upended his bed and mattress. Biwack had already opened the suitcase, and was standing at the window holding up one of the strips of microfilm to the fading light, frowning at it.
‘What is this?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You expect us to