transmission-known as “skeds” and always pronounced the American way-and the frequencies they would use. There was an atmosphere of intense concentration, the only sound being the tap of Morse code as an operator told an agent she was receiving him loud and clear.
Jean introduced Paul to Lucy Briggs, a pretty blonde girl with a Yorkshire accent so strong that he had to concentrate hard to understand her. “Helicopter?” she said. “Aye, I know Helicopter-he’s new. He calls in at twenty hundred hours and receives at twenty-three hundred. No problems, so far.”
She never pronounced the letter aitch. Once Paul realized that, he began to find it easier to interpret the accent.
“What do you mean?” he asked her. “What sort of problems do you get?”
“Well, some of them don’t tune the transmitter right, so you have to search for the frequency. Then the signal may be weak, so that you can’t hear the letters very well, and you worry that you might be mistaking dashes for dots-the letter B is very like D, for instance. And the tone is always bad from those little suitcase radios, because they’re so small.”
“Would you recognize his ‘fist’?”
She looked dubious. “He’s only broadcast three times. On Wednesday he was a bit nervous, probably because it was his first, but his pace was steady, as if he knew he had plenty of time. I was pleased-I thought he must feel reasonably safe. We worry about them, you know. We’re sitting here nice and warm and they’re somewhere be-hind enemy lines dodging the bloody Gestapo.”
“What about his second broadcast?”
“That was Thursday, and he was rushed. When they’re in a hurry, it can be difficult to be sure what they mean-you know, was that two dots run together, or a short dash? Wherever he was sending from, he wanted to get out of there fast.”
“And then?”
“Friday he didn’t broadcast. But I didn’t worry. They don’t call unless they have to, it’s too dangerous. Then he came on the air on Saturday morning, just before dawn. It was an emergency message, but he didn’t sound panicky. In fact I remember thinking to myself~ He’s getting the hang of this. You know, it was a strong signal, the rhythm was steady, all the letters clear.”
“Could it have been someone else using his transmitter that time?”
She looked thoughtful. “It sounded like him… but yes, it could have been someone else, I suppose. And if it was a German, pretending to be him, they would sound nice and steady, wouldn’t they, because they’d have nothing to fear.”
Paul felt as if he were wading through gumbo. Every question he asked had two answers. He yearned for something definite. He had to fight down panic every time he recalled to mind the dreadful prospect that he might lose Flick, less than a week after she had come into his life like a gift from the gods.
Jean had disappeared, and returned now with a sheaf of papers in a plump hand. “I’ve brought the decrypts of the three signals received from Helicopter,” she said. Her quiet efficiency pleased him.
He looked at the first sheet.
CALL SIGN HLCP (HELICOPTER)
SECURITY TAG PRESENT
MAY 30 1944
MESSAGE READS:
ARRIVED OK STOP CRYT RENDEVOUS
UNSAFE STOP NABBED BY GGESTAPO
BUT GOT AWAY STOP IN FUTURE RENDEZVOUS AT CAFE DE LA GARE OVER
“He can’t spell for nuts,” Paul commented.
“It’s not his spelling,” Jean said. “They always make errors in the Morse. We order the decoders to leave them in the decrypt, rather than tidy them up, in case there’s some significance.”
Brian’s second transmission, giving the strength of the Bollinger circuit, was longer.
CALLSIGN HLCP (HELICOPTER)
SECURITY TAG PRESENT
MAY 311944
MESSAGE READS:
ACTIV AGENTS NOMBER FIVE AS FOLOWS
STOP MONET WHO IS WOUNED STOP
COMTESSE OK STOP CHEVAL HELPS OCA
SIONLY STOP BOURGEOISE STILL IM
PLACE STOP PLUS MY RESCUER COD-
NAME CHARENTON STOP
Paul looked up. “This is much worse.”
Lucy said, “I told you he was in a rush the second time.”
There was more of the second message, mainly a detailed account of the incident at the cathedral. Paul went on to the third:
CALLSIGN HLCP (HELICOPTER)
SECURITY TAG PRESENT
JUN 2 1944
MESSAGE READS:
WHAT THE DEVIL HAPPENED QUERY
SEND INSTRUCTIONS STOP REPLY IMEDIATELY OVER
“He’s improving,” Paul said. “Only one mistake.”
“I thought he was more relaxed on Saturday,” Lucy said.
“Either that, or someone else sent the signal.” Suddenly, Paul thought he saw a way to test whether “Brian” was himself or a Gestapo impersonator. If it worked, it would at least give him certainty. “Lucy, do you ever make mistakes in transmission?”
“Hardly ever.” She threw an anxious glance at her supervisor. “If a new girl is a bit careless, the agent will kick up a hell of a stink. Quite rightly, too. There should never be any mistakes-the agents have enough problems to cope with.”
Paul turned to Jean. “If I draft a message, would you encode it exactly as it is? It would be a kind of test.”
“Of course.”
He looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty p.m. “He should broadcast at eight. Can you send it then?”
The supervisor said, “Yes. When he calls in, we’ll just tell him to stand by to receive an emergency message immediately after transmission.”
Paul sat down, thought for a moment, then wrote on a pad:
GIVE YOUR ARMS HOW MAN AUTOMATS
HOW MY STENS ALSO AMMO HOW MNY
ROUNDS ECH PLUS GREDANES REPLY IMMMEDIATLY
He considered it for a moment. It was an unreasonable request, phrased in a high-handed tone, and it appeared to be carelessly encoded and transmitted. He showed it to Jean. She frowned. “That’s a terrible message. I’d be ashamed of it.”
“What do you think an agent’s reaction would be?”
