Jackdaws

Ruby was sitting at the bar with Jim Cardwell, the firearms instructor, talking to the barmaid but at the same time discreetly stroking the inside of Jim’s thigh with a small brown hand. They were having a whirlwind romance. They kept disappearing. During the morning coffee break, the half-hour rest period after lunch, the afternoon tea time, or at any opportunity, they would sneak off for a few minutes. Jim looked as if he had jumped out of a plane and had not yet opened his parachute.

His face wore a permanent expression of bemused delight. Ruby was no beauty, with her hooked nose and turned-up chin, but she was obviously a sex bomb, and Jim was reeling from the explosion. Flick almost felt jealous. Not that Jim was her type-all the men she had ever fallen for were intellectuals, or at least very bright-but she envied Ruby’s lustful happiness.

Greta was leaning on the piano with some pink cocktail in her hand, talking to three men who looked to be local residents rather than Finishing School types. It seemed they had got over the shock of her German accent-no doubt she had told the story of her Liverpudlian father-and now she held them enthralled with tales about Hamburg nightclubs. Flick could see they had no suspicions about Greta’s gender: they were treating her like an exotic but attractive woman, buying her drinks and lighting her cigarettes and laughing in a pleased way when she touched them.

As Flick watched, one of the men sat at the piano, played some chords, and looked up at Greta expectantly. The bar went quiet, and Greta launched into “Kitchen Man”:

How that boy can open clams
No one else can touch my hams

The audience quickly realized that every line was a sexual innuendo, and the laughter was uproarious. When Greta finished, she kissed the pianist on the lips, and he looked thrilled.

Maude left Paul and returned to Diana at the bar. The captain who had been talking to Denise now came over and said to Paul, “She told me everything, sir.”

Flick nodded, disappointed but not surprised.

Paul asked him, “What did she say?”

“That she’s going in tomorrow night to blow up a railway tunnel at Marles, near Reims.”

It was the cover story, but Denise thought it was the truth, and she had revealed it to a stranger. Flick was furious.

“Thank you,” Paul said.

“I’m sorry.” The captain shrugged.

Flick said, “Better to find out now than later.”

“Do you want to tell her, sir, or shall I deal with it?”

“I’ll talk to her first,” Paul replied. “Just wait outside for her, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain left the pub, and Paul beckoned Denise.

“He left suddenly,” Denise said. “Rather bad behavior, I thought.” She obviously felt slighted. “He’s an explosives instructor.”

“No, he’s not,” Paul said. “He’s a policeman.”

“What do you mean?” Denise was mystified. “He’s wearing a captain’s uniform and he told me—”

“He told you lies,” Paul said. “His job is to catch people who blab to strangers. And he caught you.”

Denise’s jaw dropped; then she recovered her composure and became indignant. “So it was a trick? You tried to trap me?”

“I succeeded, unfortunately,” Paul said. “You told him everything.”

Realizing she was found out, Denise tried to make light of it. “What’s my punishment? A hundred lines and no playtime?”

Flick wanted to slap her face. Denise’s boasting could have endangered the lives of the whole team.

Paul said coldly, “There’s no punishment, as such.”

“Oh. Thank you so much.”

“But you’re off the team. You won’t be coming with us. You’ll be leaving tonight, with the captain.”

“I shall feel rather foolish going back to my old job at Hendon.”

Paul shook his head. “He’s not taking you to Hendon.”

“Why not?”

“You know too much. You can’t be allowed to walk around free.”

Denise began to look worried. “What are you going to do to me?”

“You’ll be posted to some place where you can’t do any damage. I believe it’s usually an isolated base in Scotland, where their main function is to file regimental accounts.”

“That’s as bad as prison!”

Paul reflected for a moment, then nodded. “Almost.”

“For how long?” Denise said in dismay.

“Who knows? Until the war is over, probably.”

“You absolute rotter,” Denise said furiously. “I wish I’d never met you.”

“You may leave now,” said Paul. “And be grateful I caught you. Otherwise it might have been the Gestapo.”

Denise stalked out.

Paul said, “I hope that wasn’t unnecessarily cruel.”

Flick did not think so. The silly cow deserved a lot worse. However, she wanted to make a good impression on Paul, so she said, “No point in crushing her. Some people just aren’t suited to this work. It’s not her fault.”

Paul smiled. “You’re a rotten liar,” he said. “You think I was too easy on her, don’t you?”

“I think crucifixion would be too easy on her,” Flick said angrily, but Paul laughed, and his humor softened her wrath until she had to smile. “I can’t pull the wool over your eyes, can I?”