Denise is no longer with us. A little test was set for her tonight, and she failed it. She’s off the team. Unfortunately, she’s learned some secrets in the last two days, and she can’t be allowed to return to her old posting. So she’s gone to a remote base in Scotland, where she’ll stay, probably for the rest of the war, with no leave.”
Jelly said, “You can’t do that!”
“Of course I can, you idiot,” Flick said impatiently. “There’s a war on, remember? And what I’ve done to Denise, I’ll do to anyone who has to be fired from this team.”
“I never even joined the army!” Jelly protested.
“Yes, you did. You were commissioned as an officer, yesterday, after tea. You all were. And you’re getting officer’s pay, although you haven’t seen any yet. That means you’re under military discipline. And you all know too much.”
“So we’re prisoners?” Diana said.
“You’re in the army,” Flick said. “It’s much the same thing. So drink your cocoa and go to bed.”
They drifted off one by one until only Diana was left. Flick had been expecting this. Seeing the two women in a sexual clinch had been a real shock. She recalled that at school some of the girls had developed crushes on one another, sending loving notes, holding hands, and sometimes even kissing; but as far as she knew it had not gone any further. At some point she and Diana had practiced French kissing on one another, so that they would know what to do when they got boyfriends, and now Flick guessed those kisses had meant more to Diana than they had to her. But she had never known a grown woman who desired other women. Theoretically, she was aware that they existed, the female equivalents of her brother Mark and of Greta, but she had never really imagined them… well, feeling each other up in a garden shed.
Did it matter? Not in everyday life. Mark and his kind were happy, or at least they were when people left them alone. But would Diana’s relationship with Maude affect the mission? Not necessarily. Flick herself worked with her husband in the Resistance, after all. This was not quite the same, admittedly. A passionate new romance might prove a distraction.
Flick could try to keep the two lovers separate-but that might make Diana even more insubordinate. And the affair could just as easily be an inspiration. Flick had been trying desperately to get the women to work together as a team, and this might help. She had decided to leave well enough alone. But Diana wanted to talk.
“It’s not what it seems, really it isn’t,” Diana said without preamble. “Christ, you’ve got to believe me. It was just a stupid thing, a joke—”
“Would you like more cocoa?” Flick said. “I think there’s some left in the jug.”
Diana stared at her, nonplussed. After a moment she said, “How can you talk about cocoa?”
“I just want you to calm down and realize that the world is not going to come to an end simply because you kissed Maude. You kissed me, once-remember?”
“I knew you’d bring that up. But that was just kid stuff With Maude, it wasn’t just a kiss.” Diana sat down. Her proud face crumpled and she began to cry. “You know it was more than that, you could see, oh, God, the things I did. What on earth did you think?”
Flick chose her words carefully. “I thought the two of you looked very sweet.”
“Sweet?” Diana was incredulous. “You weren’t disgusted?”
“Certainly not. Maude is a pretty girl, and you appear to have fallen in love with her.”
“That’s exactly what happened.”
“So stop being ashamed.”
“How can I not be ashamed? I’m queer!”
“I wouldn’t look at it that way if I were you. You ought to be discreet, to avoid offending narrow-minded people such as Jelly, but there’s no need for shame.”
“Will I always be like this?”
Flick considered. The answer was probably yes, but she did not want to be brutal. “Look,” she said, “I think some people, like Maude, just love to be loved, and they can be made happy by a man or a woman.” In truth, Maude was shallow, selfish, and tarty, but Flick suppressed that thought firmly. “Others are more inflexible,” she went on. “You should keep an open mind.”
“I suppose that’s the end of the mission for me and Maude.”
“It most certainly is not.”
“You’ll still take us?”
“I still need you. And I don’t see why this should make any difference.”
Diana took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Flick got up and went to the window, giving her time to recover her composure. After a minute, Diana spoke in a calmer voice. “You’re frightfully kind,” she said with a touch of her old hauteur.
“Go to bed,” Flick said.
Diana got up obediently.
“And if I were you..
“What?”
“I’d go to bed with Maude.”
Diana looked shocked.
Flick shrugged. “It may be your last chance,” she said. “Thank you,” Diana whispered. She stepped toward Flick and spread her arms, as if to hug her; then she stopped. “You may not want me to kiss you,” she said.
“Don’t be silly,” Flick said, and embraced her.
“Goodnight,” said Diana. She left the room.
Flick turned and looked out at the garden. The moon was three-quarters full. In a few days’ time it would be full, and the Allies would invade France. A wind was disturbing the new leaves in the forest: the weather was going to change. She hoped there would not be a storm in the English Channel. The entire invasion plan could be ruined by the capricious British climate. She guessed a lot of people were praying for good weather.
She ought to get some sleep. She left the room and climbed the stairs. She thought of what she had said to Diana: I’d go to bed with Maude. It may be your last chance. She hesitated outside Paul’s door. It was different for Diana-she was single. Flick was married.
But it might be her last chance.
She knocked at the door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 26
SUNK IN GLOOM, Dieter returned to the chateau at Sainte-Cecile in the Citroen with the radio detection team. He went to the wireless listening room in the bombproofed basement. Willi Weber was there, looking angry. The one consolation from tonight’s fiasco, Dieter thought, was that Weber was not able to crow that he had succeeded where Dieter had failed. But Dieter could have put up with all the triumphalism Weber could muster in return for having Helicopter in the torture chamber.
“You have the message he sent?” Dieter asked.
Weber handed him a carbon copy of the typed message. “It has already been sent to the cryptanalysis office in Berlin.”
Dieter looked at the meaningless strings of letters. “They won’t be able to decode it. He’s using a one-time pad.” He folded the sheet and slipped it into his pocket.
“What can you do with it?” Weber said.
“I have a copy of his code book,” Dieter said. It was a petty victory, but he felt better.
Weber swallowed. “The message may tell us where he is.”
“Yes. He’s scheduled to receive a reply at eleven p.m.” He looked at his watch. It was a few minutes before eleven. “Let’s record that, and I will decrypt the two together.”
Weber left. Dieter waited in the windowless room. On the dot of eleven, a receiver tuned to Helicopter’s listening frequency began to chatter with the long-and-short beeps of Morse. An operator wrote the letters down while at the same time a wire recorder ran. When the chattering stopped, the operator pulled a typewriter toward him and typed out what he had on his notepad. He gave Dieter a carbon copy.
