Jackdaws

Once again, the first group was Helicopter's call sign. The second group, "QRK," had appeared in the original message. Without the question mark, it presumably meant "I am receiving you loud and clear." He was not sure about "QRV," but he guessed it must mean "Go ahead."

As Helicopter tapped out his message in Morse, Dieter watched, feeling elated. This was the spy catcher's dream: he had an agent in his hands and the agent did not know he had been captured.

When the message was sent, Helicopter shut down the radio quickly. Because the Gestapo used radio direction-finding equipment to track down spies, it was dangerous to operate a set for more than a few minutes.

In England, the message had to be transcribed, decoded, and passed to Helicopter's controller, who might have to consult with others before replying; all of which could take several hours, so Helicopter would wait until the appointed hour for a response.

Now Dieter had to separate him from the wireless set and, more importantly, from his coding materials. "I presume you want to contact the Bollinger circuit now," he said.

"Yes. London needs to know how much of it is left."

"We'll put you in touch with Monet, that's the code name of the leader." He looked at his wristwatch and suffered a moment of sheer panic: it was a standard issue German Army officer's watch, and if Helicopter recognized it the game would be up. Trying to keep the tremor out of his voice, Dieter said, "We've got time, I'll drive you to his house."

"Is it far?" Helicopter said eagerly.

"Center of town."

Monet, whose real name was Michel Clairet, would not be at home. He was no longer using the house; Dieter had checked. The neighbors claimed to have no idea where he was. Dieter was not surprised. Monet had guessed that his name and address would be given away by one of his comrades under interrogation, and he had gone into hiding.

Helicopter began to close up the radio. Dieter said, "Does that battery need recharging from time to time?"

"Yes-in fact they tell us to plug it in at every opportunity, so that it's always fully charged."

"So why don't you leave it where it is for now? We can come back for it later, by which time it will be charged. If anyone should come in the meantime, Bourgeoise can hide it away in a few seconds."

"Good idea."

"Then let's go." Dieter led the way to the garage and backed the Simca Cinq out. Then he said, "Wait here a minute, I have to tell Bourgeoise something."

He went back into the house. Stephanie was in the kitchen, staring at the suitcase radio on the kitchen table. Dieter took the one-time pad and the silk handkerchief from the accessories compartment. "How long will it take you to copy these?" he said.

She made a face. "All those gibberish letters? At least an hour."

"Do it as fast as you can, but don't make any mistakes. I'll keep him out for an hour and a half"

He returned to the car and drove Helicopter into the city center.

Michel Clairet's home was a small, elegant town house near the cathedral. Dieter waited in the car while Helicopter went to the door. After a few minutes, the agent came back and said, "No answer."

"You can try again in the morning," Dieter said. "Meanwhile, I know a bar used by the Resistance." He knew no such thing. "Let's go there and see if I recognize anyone."

He parked near the station and picked a bar at random. The two of them sat drinking watery beer for an hour, then returned to the rue du Bois.

When they entered the kitchen, Stephanie gave Dieter a slight nod. He took it to mean she had succeeded in copying everything. "Now," Dieter said to Helicopter, "you'd probably like a bath, having spent a night in the open. And you certainly should shave. I'll show you your room, and Bourgeoise will run your bath."

"How kind you are."

Dieter put him in an attic room, the one farthest from the bathroom. As soon as he heard the man splashing in the bath, he went into the room and searched his clothes. Helicopter had a change of underwear and socks, all bearing the labels of French shops. In his jacket pockets were French cigarettes and matches, a handkerchief with a French label, and a wallet. In the wallet was a lot of cash-half a million francs, enough to buy a luxury car, if there had been any new cars for sale. The identity papers seemed impeccable, though they had to be forgeries.

There was also a photograph.

Dieter stared at it in surprise. It showed Flick Clairet. There was no mistake. It was the woman he had seen in the square at Sainte-C‚cile. Finding it was a wonderful piece of luck for Dieter-and a disaster for her.