My heart quickened at the thought of seeing him again. Then, fast on its heels, I realised that they weren’t as upset about my liaison with an Abwehr officer as they should have been. That I had been taken straight to Baker Street, instead of that school in Wandsworth where they usually debriefed returning agents. That they were implying that it wasn’t Köhler whom Eduard had intended to meet that night. So had Eduard, but if it wasn’t Köhler, then who?
‘Who? Who was it?’
‘Ask the major,’ Vera repeated.
They knew. They knew what Eduard was involved in.
‘He’s working for you, isn’t he?’ The words came slowly, grating like a car not quite in gear.
‘No, no. I would love for it to be true, but no. Your major is a good German.’ Buckmaster’s voice was wry. ‘And loyal to his country.’
Eduard used the same words, with the same emphasis. His country. Not to the madman running it. They all but confirmed my suspicion. A coup. He was working on a coup. I remembered the lectures when I trained, heard the rumours that circulated in the Resistance. It wouldn’t be the first attempt to get rid of Hitler and his band of lunatics. The Bürgerbräukeller in Munich, 1939; Paris, Berlin, Russia. The number of attempts was growing, but the rabid bastard always managed to escape. The conspirators were arrested, deposed, or dead. I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to Eduard.
The fool! The bloody, brave, patriotic fool! And he accused me of doing stupid things?
I looked out of the window and composed myself. There was no point in letting Vera and Buck know the depth of my feelings; they would only use it – use me – to further Eduard’s rebellion.
Was that it? Were they going to send me to Berlin? I kept my voice cool.
‘Should I see him again, I shall.’
‘Good,’ she said with an enigmatic smile. ‘Do that, Cécile.’
Buckmaster’s chair squealed as he leant back.
‘I must say, it wasn’t easy getting you back. Your friend in the Foreign Office kept his cards close to his chest. Officially, you were never in Lisbon. As there was never any paperwork seconding you, the bean counters didn’t understand why we wanted you back when they didn’t think you were there in the first place.’
I studied them both – Maurice’s animated face, and Vera’s cool one. Drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Leant forward and matched her level gaze.
‘Why did you want me back?’
Already suspecting the answer, my heart sang.
Berlin. Send me to Berlin. Send me to Berlin to work with Eduard.
‘Because, my dear –’ Maurice’s face was suddenly serious – ‘we have another job for you.’
Historical Note
When I tell people my debut novel takes place in Lisbon during the Second World War, they give me a strange look. ‘Lisbon,’ they ask. ‘Why Lisbon? Portugal was neutral.’ And it was, sort of. As the only European capital that was both neutral and a port city, Lisbon quickly became a centre for intrigue, with exiled aristocrats, diplomats, businessmen, artists, refugees and, of course, operatives, obsessively watching each other. As I began to learn more, it became the perfect backdrop for City of Spies.
This book is fiction, and while I’ve tried to stay as close to the facts as possible, there are times where I intentionally deviated from history, and other times unintentionally. All mistakes are my own.
Special Operations Executive
Special Operations Executive (SOE) was officially formed on 22 July 1940, at the instigation of Prime Minister Winston Churchill, as a single organisation to conduct espionage, subversion, sabotage, and reconnaissance. He directed Hugh Dalton, the Minister of Economic Warfare and newly appointed with the political responsibility for SOE to ‘Go and set Europe ablaze’.
SOE recruited agents from all classes, backgrounds and occupations and provided rigorous training that included map reading, demolitions, weapons, Morse code, fieldcraft, and close combat, and inserted agents into all countries occupied or attacked by the Axis, except where agreement was reached with other Allied countries.
In 1942, realising they were missing a trick, SOE began recruiting women as field agents. These women trained alongside the men, (often being used as an example to spur the men on), and were commissioned either in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) or the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry (FANYs), before being deployed. SOE sent 39 women into France, and all but 13 of these amazing women came back.
The City of Spies
Lisbon was the real-life City of Spies. There would always be elements of this in any neutral capital, however Lisbon was uniquely placed as a port on the Atlantic. It hosted large swathes of exiled nobility and aristocracy from across Europe, desperate refugees fleeing the Nazis, diplomats, merchants, smugglers, and of course spies.
Passenger ships and the Pan Am Clipper connected Lisbon to New York. The British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC) operated a scheduled flight to Bristol, and on 1 June 1943, this flight was targeted by the Luftwaffe and shot down by a Junkers fighter over the Bay of Biscay, killing 17 people including the actor Leslie Howard. Quite a lot of conspiracy theories surround this event, including one that the Germans believed Winston Churchill was on the flight. Leslie Howard was a gifted actor, director, and producer, but also worked with anti-German propaganda. There were also theories that he worked for British Intelligence, which might have made him a target in his own right. I’m not sure we’ll ever learn the truth.
Several other real-life spies involved with Operation Fortitude, the military deception aimed at convincing the Germans that the allied invasion would be targeted at Calais, either operated out of Lisbon or visited the city to meet with their handlers. And yes, there really is a ‘secret’ passageway between Rossio Station and the Hotel Avenida, which enabled diplomats and operatives to conduct clandestine business and to be out of Lisbon before anyone knew they were in it.
In April 1943
