My body refused to move. Protested everything about the situation, down to the lumpy bed. That realisation brought on waves of nausea and fear. My own bed wasn’t lumpy. I forced my eyes open, bracing myself against a stabbing bright light.
The blurry outline of a man’s hand was silhouetted in front of me, and cool dry fingers fluttered at my neck. Something smelled familiar, but I couldn’t place it. All I knew was that it wasn’t Eduard, and I wasn’t home. And a strange man’s hands were at my throat.
Red-hot anger burned through my fear.
To hell with you! I silently screamed, balled my hand and let it fly. My fist found its target and the man recoiled with a loud oof.
‘I see you’re awake then,’ he said in English, rubbing his jaw.
The accent was public school, sharp as cut glass. I waited for the retaliatory blow to fall, but instead he faded from sight. Water gurgled as the fuzziness began to fade. I accepted the glass from my captor and flung it into his face.
‘Insult and injury, Lisbet?’ Matthew pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed his face. ‘Was that really necessary, old girl?’
I snarled. ‘What do you want?’ I looked about the spartan room – the white walls, the battered institutional desk and green filing cabinet. An office, obviously, but it could be anywhere. ‘Where the bloody hell have you taken me?’
‘The airfield. You will be on the scheduled flight back to Blighty. I apologise in advance that your trip might not be the most comfortable, but they still watch every move we make. You’ll need to change into this.’ He pulled a folded uniform from the cabinet. ‘You’ll be masquerading as the co-pilot.’ A roll of dressing was placed on top of the uniform. ‘Who is a man, needless to say.’
What the devil was going on? I tried to sit up too fast and the room spun.
‘Why? Why now? After all these months, why me?’
‘You know better than ask that, old girl.’ Matthew perched on the side of my cot and laid a steadying hand on my arm. ‘Your Major Buckmaster sent word. He’s recalling you to London. The kidnapping was a fake. Staged, if you will.’
‘Let me see if I understand this. I risk my cover story, my life and the lives of two good men to rescue you from your kidnapping, and in return you plan mine?’
‘Yes, my dear. That about sums it up.’
‘And you couldn’t just summon me? Let me know?’
He sighed. ‘Don’t you think Jerry would notice if you packed up house and waltzed on to the next flight to London the moment your husband sails off to Berlin? What do you think would happen to him? Do consider the company he keeps.’
I knew the company he kept: the German company, and the role he had undertaken – at their behest – with the British. The very thought made me feel ill.
‘You must tell him, Matthew,’ I said when my breathing allowed it. ‘He’ll come back expecting to find me.’
‘And Solange will have disappeared.’ He stressed the name, watching my reaction. ‘We need his reaction to be authentic. Otherwise your cover story, and his allegiance, will be called into question.’
‘Let me explain his authentic reaction. With no ransom and no word, he’ll search for me. And when he realises you’re involved, he’ll go after you as well.’
Matthew stared at me, his expression inscrutable.
‘You really do care for him, don’t you?’
‘He’s a good man, Matthew. He risked his life to save yours. And so did I. Tell him. Let him know I’m safe.’
‘Solange was his wife, Lisbet. You mustn’t confuse the two.’ Again that look – that warning. ‘Elisabeth, you haven’t done anything stupid, have you? You must know that not even your group of yahoos would tolerate an agent genuinely married to an Abwehr officer.’
It was nothing I hadn’t already considered, but his words fuelled my anger.
‘Matthew, there’s no need to threaten me, or be insulting. I suppose I could always write from England.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll tell him. Anything else, while I’m playing messenger boy?’
I thought about that for a second.
‘Why, yes, Matthew. There is.’
He didn’t quite roll his eyes. ‘And that is?’
‘Bertie.’
‘What about him?’
‘What will happen to him after I leave?’
‘Ah, your little East End friend. He’s done well, hasn’t he? We’ll keep him here, of course.’ Outside the window an engine roared into life. ‘Your chariot awaits. Payne will escort you out. It was supposed to be Fitzgerald, but his arm is being stitched up.’ He gave me an arch look. ‘By the by, that’s a nice little toy you have.’ He pointed to the sgian dubh where it sat on the desk next to my handbag. ‘However did you acquire it?’
I grunted, and struggled off the cot. Matthew rested a hand on my shoulder.
‘Get dressed, and then wait for Payne. We must make it look authentic. This time, try not to grab his testicles, his wife might object.’
‘If he knocks me out again, I won’t just grab them, I’ll rip them off. And next time you play this game with me –’ I closed my hand around the sgian dubh – ‘I’ll go for yours.’
I waited for the door to close behind Matthew, and slowly began to dress, binding my breasts and tucking my hair into the cap. The shirt and tie covered my necklace, and my bracelet and earrings were buttoned into a pocket. I left my wedding ring on. Buck and Vera would already know of ‘Solange’s’ marriage, but what was more worrying was how they would act on it.
The disguise wasn’t perfect, but was good enough to convince anyone who didn’t look too closely.
I held the little knife in my hand, and waited in furious silence for Payne and the flight home.
To whatever lay in wait for me
