ran a finger down this register that had been maintained meticulously by the officers who had overseen the spy network from London.
There were only five spies mentioned having visited the office in early March before Karen Johnson, the photographer, died. And one of them had the initials ‘V.H.’ Next to them was the word ‘Sparrow’.
Sophie sat back in her chair. V.H., Vivienne Hamilton. Her instinct had been correct. She felt like cheering. Up until now, it had just been a rumour from her grandmother, but now it said it here plainly. Vivienne Hamilton had been working for the British sometime during the war and her code name had been Sparrow. But if she had been working for the British, why on earth did she smuggle a Nazi out of the hospital and disappear to France?
Sophie felt momentarily satisfied with herself. That was until she searched through more of the records and came across something alarming. In Sparrow’s file there was information about her assignment in Paris but on the next page there was an official letter thanking her for her work and discharging her from SOE. The stamp across the page stated she was no longer fit for duty. It was dated in 1943, the year before the photograph on Baker Street. So this part of the story was true. She had been working for the British in SOE early in the war but they then had dismissed her. What had she done? And why was she seen leaving the same building a year later if she no longer was an agent?
There was also a mention of the spy network Sparrow had been a member of in France. This spy cell was known by three names: F-section, which was short for French section, the Physician Network, and Prosper Network, the latter named after the man who headed it up. Something about its name rang a bell in Sophie’s mind – she had read it before. Sophie had placed a lot of the research she had been doing at home in a Google document and now pulled it up on her phone. Yes, here it was, she noted as she scrolled down the screen. The archival records stated that Sparrow had been assigned to the Physician Network, which had been compromised during the war, resulting in a large number of agents from that French spy network being caught or killed in 1943. Many shortly before her aunt had been discharged. Vivienne had been lucky to make it home alive, or… Another thought ran like a chill through Sophie’s body. Had her aunt helped with the deception? Had she compromised Physician?
Quickly, Sophie returned to her aunt’s file for anything else that could help. There was only one other piece of paper in it. A photocopy of a document with columns of letters on it. Underneath the letters was a scrawled note.
Passed from another agent so unable to confirm the fist. Received June 1944 – Not creditable as spy is no longer in the network. Determined to be enemy using an outdated code.
Sophie stared at the list of jumbled letters all in little blocks of five. What did they mean?
She moved back to the desk where Peter was sitting.
‘Did you find any ghosts?’ he asked with a smile.
‘I did,’ stated Sophie as she continued to stare at the sheet of paper. ‘I think my aunt might have worked for SOE during the war.’
‘Wow,’ responded Peter looking impressed. ‘Did you not know before?’
‘There is a little controversy around it, but I think I have found her file for SOE and this was in it. Would you know anything about what this is?’
She handed the paper to Peter.
‘This is a coded message,’ he responded, nodding. ‘Dated right before the Normandy Landings. Normally these were transmitted from wirelesses by SOE operatives in the field.’
‘Do you know what it says?’ enquired Sophie, getting excited.
Peter started to laugh. ‘We have hundreds of these unknown messages on file; unfortunately, unless you know this particular agent’s cipher, it is almost impossible to decode.’
‘Cipher?’
‘Each agent had their own cipher – usually they would memorise a poem – and from that they would pick a word to create their coded message. Then by a series of columns and rows using this code word they would send a message.’
‘Well that doesn’t sound too difficult to crack as long as you know their poem,’ stated Sophie. ‘How come you have so many that aren’t decoded?’
Peter smiled. ‘They never used just a single word. There