wandered off with Reader, Hartmann appeared and joined Lindsay.
'Those two seem to be developing a relationship,' Hartmann observed as he perched on a rock next to Lindsay.
'I'm not blind…'
'Get her out of your system,' the German advised. 'A woman is an unpredictable creature. Falling in love with someone who will never love you is worse than Gestapo torture. It lasts longer..'
'She's got into my bloodstream…'
`Then I'm very sorry for you.'
Hartmann tamped tobacco from his pouch into his pipe and lit it with enormous satisfaction. He rationed himself to one pipe a day now. Paco had brought him a fresh supply taken by a Partisan off a dead German. At the time Hartmann had thought, what things we'll do to satisfy our cravings!
'The plane is due tomorrow,' Lindsay said suddenly.
'I rather thought so. I saw them clearing rocks from the airstrip over there. It doesn't seem possible. In this weather.'
He brushed flakes from the shoulder of his jacket. Snow fell gently, flecking the ground cleared for the airstrip. It was cold – but the raw, biting wind of recent days had dropped.
'A clear, sunny day is forecast for tomorrow,' Lindsay said.
'Which might coincide with a fresh attack by Jaeger. Our persistent Colonel has been too quiet recently.'
'Heljec has made all his dispositions. All approaches to the plateau up the ravines are guarded. Heljec may not be worried about us but he does want those sten guns.'
'I saw you writing again in your diary, huddled under a rock before Reader spoilt your day.'
Lindsay produced his black, leather-bound book from inside his jacket, keeping it closed to protect it from the drifting flakes. He balanced it in his hand and looked at Hartmann with a grim expression.
'I've been scribbling away for weeks, as you know. Everything's there. Our suspicions about the second Hitler at the Wolf's Lair. Your conclusions as to the identity of the Soviet spy. Then if anything happens to me this simply has to get to London and they will know…'
'Don't sound so doomed…'
'It really doesn't matter whether I get through or not. That's being realistic. The diary must get through. And it would help if you got through with it. There is a first-class seat booked on the plane for you..
'Thank you…'
Hartmann puffed at his pipe which no longer tasted so good. He was disturbed by Lindsay's attitude, the sense of fatalism in the RAF officer he detected. And all the time they had talked, Lindsay had been watching the two small silhouettes walking slowly round the plateau. Paco and Reader.
NDA OK QSR5 NDA OK QSR5..
Seconds later Meyer, listening at the Dresden Monitoring Centre with Walter Schellenberg opposite him, recorded a series of five letters and five figures. They provided the agreed code.
'Now,' said Meyer, 'we switch from the 43-metre band, which The Ghost uses only for the call sign, to the 39 -metre band. That's the wavelength on which they transmit the main signal…'
Meyer had cracked Lucy's system.
It had taken months of patient experimentation but the peacetime watchmaker had persisted. Schellenberg's shrewd eyes gleamed with triumph as he leaned forward, a pair of headphones over his ears.
Ten minutes later the transmission Meyer was recording ended. It was the night before Jaeger was due to launch his airborne attack on the plateau in Bosnia. Schellenberg removed his headphones, stood up, reached an arm across the table and shook hands with Meyer.
'You are a genius. You will go down in history. You know this, I hope?'
'I have just done my job.'
'And the mobile monitoring station at Strasbourg..
The 'phone inside the glass cubicle rang. Meyer reached for the instrument and nodded to Schellenberg.
'This will be them, I suspect. They're very quick…'
He identified himself, nodded again to Schellenberg, listening with only the occasional comment.
'Again? As on previous occasions. You're quite sure?'
He thanked the caller profusely, a point Schellenberg did not miss. The chief of the SD – SS Intelligence – never did miss a point. Meyer, always so modest, had trouble concealing his satisfaction.
'Strasbourg has pinpointed the location of The Ghost for the fourth time. It is Switzerland. It is Lucerne.'
'I've got him! Masson of the Swiss Intelligence.' Schellenberg shook his head in reluctant awe at the audacity of his Swiss opposite number. 'He is permitting a secret transmitter to send signals to the Soviets. We know it's the Soviets…'
'Because they always use five letters and five figures for the code,' Meyer interjected.
'Exactly! After all these months!' Schellenberg couldn't keep still. It was this uninhibited and infectious enthusiasm he displayed which partly explained his popularity with subordinates. 'Now I can break Masson! Compel him to reveal the identity of the Soviet spy at the Wolf's Lair! We may be in time to change the outcome of the whole war.'
It was typical of Schellenberg that he talked openly to Meyer about the most closely guarded state secrets. Meyer was completely trustworthy. By sharing his confidence Schellenberg gained his subordinate's total loyalty, his incredible application to his task.
'I gambled on this fourth confirmation,' Schellenberg continued. 'I have already made an appointment to meet Masson within hours inside Switzerland…'
'They will let you across the border?'
Meyer was astounded. Technically it was a gross violation of Switzerland's precious neutrality which that country preserved in a way a girl protects her virginity.
'I travel incognito,' Schellenberg explained with a flamboyant flourish. 'There have been previous visits. Now, I must leave Dresden immediately. Brigadier Roger Masson, I am coming…' Snow was falling heavily as he hurried from the building.
It was ten o'clock at night in Zagreb when Jaeger heard from the guard-room downstairs in the old villa that Karl Gruber of the Gestapo was waiting to see him.
'Tell him to wait!' Jaeger slammed down the 'phone and turned to Schmidt who sat at another desk, poring over a map of Bosnia. 'We need every minute to check over the details of Operation Raven, we'll be damned lucky to get an hour's sleep and who do you think lands on our doorstep? Gruber of the Gestapo!'
'He must smell profitable pickings – to risk his precious skin even in Zagreb. You'd better see him.
Get to know what he's up to and we can sidetrack him.'
'You're right, of course.' Jaeger's admission was reluctant. 'You always are,' he added drily.
'Shall I go down and bring him up myself? I could twist his tail first. Tell him how busy you are. Is it really that important? Better get some sleep and leave it till morning. I might just pull it off! We'll be gone by morning.'
'You'll be lucky! Not a word about Operation Raven,' he warned.
'Do I look thick?' Schmidt enquired.
'Ask an embarrassing question, expect an embarrassing reply.'
On the eve of the parachute drop the two men had, if possible, drawn even closer together. I'm born lucky to have Schmidt, Jaeger reflected as he waited alone. I should have stopped him coming on this thing…'
He only had to wait a few minutes. There was a knock on the door. He called out Enter! And framed in the doorway stood Gruber accompanied by Willy Maisel. The whole bloody clown act had arrived. Behind the two Gestapo agents Schmidt threw up a mock salute.
Jaeger sat behind his desk like a man of stone, offering no greeting. He noted Schmidt had rolled up the map on his desk before going downstairs. Trust him to attend, unbidden, to the small details.
The two Gestapo officials, sat in chairs Schmidt placed some distance from the desk. Gruber promptly shifted his closer to the desk. He extended a pudgy hand which Jaeger, glancing down at his papers, pretended not to notice. He thought Willy Maisel looked unhappy about the whole business.
Gruber swivelled round in his chair. He stared at Schmidt, now seated behind his desk. He turned back to stare at Jaeger from under pouched eyes. There were signs of fatigue about both men.
