Jackdaws

“I must have her out of here tonight,” Paul went on. “But I don’t want to put you in any kind of awkward position. That’s why I need to know exactly what authorization you require.” What he really wanted was to make sure she would have no excuse to be obstructive.

“I can’t release her under any circumstances,” said Miss Lindleigh. “She has been remanded here by a magistrate’s court, so only the court can free her.”

Paul was patient. “And what do you think that would require?”

“She would have to be taken, in police custody, before a magistrate. The public prosecutor, or his representative, would have to tell the magistrate that all charges against Romain had been dropped. Then the magistrate would be obliged to say she was free to go.”

Paul frowned, looking ahead for snags. “She would have to sign her army joining-up papers before seeing the magistrate, so that she would be under military discipline as soon as the court released her… otherwise she might just walk away.”

Miss Lindleigh was still incredulous. “Why would they drop the charges?”

“This prosecutor is a government official?”

“Yes.”

“Then it won’t be a problem.” Paul stood up. “I will be back here later this evening, with a magistrate, someone from the prosecutor’s department, and an army driver to take Ruby to… her next port of call. Can you foresee any snags?”

Miss Lindleigh shook her head. “I follow orders, Major, just as you do.”

“Good.”

They took their leave. When they got outside, Paul stopped and looked back. “I’ve never been to a prison before,” he said. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t something out of a fairy tale.”

He was making an inconsequential remark about the building, but Flick looked sour. “Several women have been hanged here,” she said. “Not much of a fairy tale.”

He wondered why she was grumpy. “I guess you identify with the prisoners,” he said. Suddenly he realized why. “It’s because you might end up in a jail in France.”

She looked taken aback. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I didn’t know why I hated that place so much, but that’s it.”

She might be hanged, too, he realized, but he kept that thought to himself.

They walked away, heading for the nearest Thbe station. Flick was thoughtful. “You’re very perceptive,” she said. “You understood how to keep Miss Lindleigh on our side. I would have made an enemy of her.”

“No point in that.”

“Exactly. And you turned Ruby from a tigress into a pussycat.”

“I wouldn’t want a woman like that to dislike me.”

Flick laughed. “Then you told me something that I hadn’t figured out about myself.”

Paul was pleased that he had impressed her, but he was already looking ahead to the next problem. “By midnight, we should have half a team at the training center in Hampshire.”

“We call it the Finishing School,” Flick said. “Yes”.

“Diana Colefield, Maude Valentine, and Ruby Romain.” Paul nodded grimly. “An undisciplined aristocrat, a pretty flirt who can’t tell fantasy from reality, and a murdering gypsy with a short temper.” When he thought of the possibility that Flick could be hanged by the Gestapo, he felt as worried as Percy about the caliber of the recruits.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Flick said cheerfully. Her sour mood had vanished.

“But we still don’t have an explosives expert or a telephone engineer.”

Flick glanced at her wrist. “It’s still only four pip emma. And maybe the RAF has taught Denise Bowyer how to blow up a telephone exchange.”

Paul grinned. Flick’s optimism was irresistible.

They reached the station and caught a train. They could not talk about the mission because there were other passengers within earshot. Paul said, “I learned a little about Percy this morning. We drove through the neighborhood where he was brought up.”

“He’s adopted the manners and even the accent of the British upper class, but don’t be fooled. Under that old tweed jacket beats the heart of a real street brawler.”

“He told me he was flogged at school for speaking with a low-class accent.”

“He was a scholarship boy. They generally have a hard time in swanky British schools. I know, I was a scholarship girl.”

“Did you have to change your accent?”

“No. I grew up in an earl’s household. I always spoke like this.”

Paul guessed that was why Flick and Percy got on so well: they were both lower-class people who had climbed the social ladder. Unlike Americans, the British thought there was nothing wrong with class prejudice. Yet they were shocked at Southerners who told them Negroes were inferior. “I think Percy’s very fond of you,” Paul said.

“I love him like a father.”

The sentiment seemed genuine, Paul thought, but she was also firmly setting him straight about her relationship with Percy.

Flick had arranged to meet Percy back at Orchard Court. When they arrived, there was a car outside the building. Paul recognized the driver, one of Monty’s entourage. “Sir, there’s someone in the car waiting for you,” the man said.