“I hope it was quick.”
“They said Freddie died in the same crash.”
“What else did they say?”
“Is he alive?”
The idea that Freddie might still be walking the planet somewhere tightened his stomach.
“Not unless he sprouted wings.” Elliott paused briefly, lowering his eyes. “I threw him out of a Lodestar over the Bay of Biscay.”
“You threw him out of a plane?”
“You make it sound easier than it was. He fought me like a tiger all the way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s why I’m here. What do you want to know?”
“I thought you were a German agent.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “Jeez, they really didn’t tell you anything, did they? I’m beginning to understand the frosty reception.”
It was true, they had told Max almost nothing. In their efforts to hush the whole thing up, they’d flown him off the island the moment he’d been fit to travel. There’d been a desk job waiting for him back in London at the Ministry of Information, but he’d recognized it for what it was: a bribe to keep him quiet and onside while seeing out the war with some modicum of respectability.
“But you shot me.”
“Only cos
“What, so you could throw him out of a plane?”
Elliott shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
Elliott pulled a black hardback notebook from his jacket pocket and laid it on the table. It was old and scuffed.
“It’s all in there. Everything. Going back years. He started young. Freddie Lambert was the sickest sonofabitch I ever came across, and I’ve been around the block a few times since Malta. I haven’t lost a minute’s sleep over what I did. He went out that door screaming like a stuck pig, and that’s exactly what he deserved.”
“Judge, jury, and executioner?”
Elliott slid the notebook across the table toward Max. “Read it first. And when you’re done, burn it. You’ll want to.”
“Why did you want him alive?”
Elliott lit another cigarette before replying. “There’s only one thing more valuable than an agent, and that’s a double agent, assuming you can be sure of his duplicity.”
“You knew he’d killed three girls and you were still happy to work with him?”
“Not exactly dancing a jig, but nothing beats feeding the enemy what you want them to hear. Yes, I knew what he’d done. I also knew what he could do for us. My job demands a certain pragmatism. Not everyone has the stomach for it.”
According to Elliott, the British authorities on the island hadn’t been happy with the idea, and it had made for tension between him and Malta Command.
“You see, we knew the Germans had an agent on the island. We’d known for a while. We didn’t know who he was, but we knew exactly what he was up to, and why. I was all for finding him and using him. They were all for sitting tight.”
“Sitting tight?”
“Doing nothing. They had their reasons—good reasons.” He paused. “This isn’t public knowledge, and it won’t be for a while yet, so keep it to yourself. We’d cracked the German codes by then. Well, a bunch of your experts had. Hell of an achievement. Probably swung the war our way. It sure as hell made all the difference on Malta. We knew where and when they were running their convoys to Rommel. We knew when the Luftwaffe was leaving Sicily for the Russian front and when they were returning. Remember the Italian E-boat raid on Grand Harbour? We knew it was coming. We were ready for them. That’s why they didn’t stand a chance.”
Max remembered it clearly. It had been a rout, a predawn massacre.
“The only trouble with having the heads-up is you’ve got to be careful how you use the intelligence.”
“Because you’ll give the game away.”
“Exactly. That’s just what it is—a game. Defense Security didn’t want to risk moving on the Germans’ agent because they might have figured out we were deciphering their signals.”
“The lives of a few Maltese girls—who cares, right?”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t a dirty game. No one enjoys doing the math on these things. And like I said, I didn’t agree with them.”
“That’s why you helped me.”
“I gave you a few pointers.”
