Jackdaws

"That was Thursday, and he was rushed. When they're in a hurry, it can be difficult to be sure what they mean-you know, was that two dots run together, or a short dash? Wherever he was sending from, he wanted to get out of there fast."

"And then?"

"Friday he didn't broadcast. But I didn't worry. They don't call unless they have to, it's too dangerous. Then he came on the air on Saturday morning, just before dawn. It was an emergency message, but he didn't sound panicky. In fact I remember thinking to myself~ He's getting the hang of this. You know, it was a strong signal, the rhythm was steady, all the letters clear."

"Could it have been someone else using his transmitter that time?"

She looked thoughtful. "It sounded like him... but yes, it could have been someone else, I suppose. And if it was a German, pretending to be him, they would sound nice and steady, wouldn't they, because they'd have nothing to fear."

Paul felt as if he were wading through gumbo. Every question he asked had two answers. He yearned for something definite. He had to fight down panic every time he recalled to mind the dreadful prospect that he might lose Flick, less than a week after she had come into his life like a gift from the gods.

Jean had disappeared, and returned now with a sheaf of papers in a plump hand. "I've brought the decrypts of the three signals received from Helicopter," she said. Her quiet efficiency pleased him.

He looked at the first sheet.

CALL SIGN HLCP (HELICOPTER)

SECURITY TAG PRESENT

MAY 30 1944

MESSAGE READS:

ARRIVED OK STOP CRYT RENDEVOUS

UNSAFE STOP NABBED BY GGESTAPO

BUT GOT AWAY STOP IN FUTURE RENDEZVOUS AT CAFE DE LA GARE OVER

"He can't spell for nuts," Paul commented.

"It's not his spelling," Jean said. "They always make errors in the Morse. We order the decoders to leave them in the decrypt, rather than tidy them up, in case there's some significance."

Brian's second transmission, giving the strength of the Bollinger circuit, was longer.

CALLSIGN HLCP (HELICOPTER)

SECURITY TAG PRESENT

MAY 311944

MESSAGE READS:

ACTIV AGENTS NOMBER FIVE AS FOLOWS

STOP MONET WHO IS WOUNED STOP

COMTESSE OK STOP CHEVAL HELPS OCA

SIONLY STOP BOURGEOISE STILL IM

PLACE STOP PLUS MY RESCUER COD-

NAME CHARENTON STOP

Paul looked up. "This is much worse."

Lucy said, "I told you he was in a rush the second time."

There was more of the second message, mainly a detailed account of the incident at the cathedral. Paul went on to the third:

CALLSIGN HLCP (HELICOPTER)

SECURITY TAG PRESENT

JUN 2 1944

MESSAGE READS:

WHAT THE DEVIL HAPPENED QUERY

SEND INSTRUCTIONS STOP REPLY IMEDIATELY OVER

"He's improving," Paul said. "Only one mistake."

"I thought he was more relaxed on Saturday," Lucy said.

"Either that, or someone else sent the signal." Suddenly, Paul thought he saw a way to test whether "Brian" was himself or a Gestapo impersonator. If it worked, it would at least give him certainty. "Lucy, do you ever make mistakes in transmission?"

"Hardly ever." She threw an anxious glance at her supervisor. "If a new girl is a bit careless, the agent will kick up a hell of a stink. Quite rightly, too. There should never be any mistakes-the agents have enough problems to cope with."

Paul turned to Jean. "If I draft a message, would you encode it exactly as it is? It would be a kind of test."

"Of course."

He looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty p.m. "He should broadcast at eight. Can you send it then?"

The supervisor said, "Yes. When he calls in, we'll just tell him to stand by to receive an emergency message immediately after transmission."

Paul sat down, thought for a moment, then wrote on a pad:

GIVE YOUR ARMS HOW MAN AUTOMATS

HOW MY STENS ALSO AMMO HOW MNY

ROUNDS ECH PLUS GREDANES REPLY IMMMEDIATLY

He considered it for a moment. It was an unreasonable request, phrased in a high-handed tone, and it appeared to be carelessly encoded and transmitted. He showed it to Jean. She frowned. "That's a terrible message. I'd be ashamed of it."

"What do you think an agent's reaction would be?"

She gave a humorless laugh. "He would send an angry reply with a few swear words in it."

"Please encode it exactly as it is and send it to Helicopter."

She looked troubled. "If that's what you wish."

"Yes, please."

"Of course." She took it away.

Paul went in search of food. The canteen operated twenty-four hours a day, as the station did, but the coffee was tasteless and there was nothing to eat but some stale sandwiches and dried-up cake.

A few minutes after eight o'clock, the supervisor came into the canteen. "Helicopter called in to say he had had no word yet from Leopardess. We're sending him the emergency message now."

"Thank you." It would take Brian-or his Gestapo impersonator-at least an hour to decode the message, compose a reply, encode it, and transmit it. Paul stared at his plate, wondering how the British had the nerve to call this a sandwich: two pieces of white bread smeared with margarine and one thin slice of ham.

No mustard.

CHAPTER 34