Crockatt poured more tea into his cup and offered to refresh Jeremy’s, who declined with a shake of his head. “If you don’t mind,” the major said, “when Lord Hankey arrives, I’d like you to go over your story again from beginning to end, starting with your escape at Dunkirk. Maybe we can figure things out from there.”
“I can do that,” Jeremy agreed, “but who is this lord? I know nothing about him.”
Crockatt’s brow furrowed while a bemused smile crossed his face. “We’re competitors, of sorts,” he said. “My group is organizing to build networks across Europe to help downed pilots, separated soldiers, and escaped POWs evade and escape like you’ve just done, and get them home to safety.
“Lord Hankey has quite a bio. His full name is Maurice Pascal Alers Hankey, and he’s also known as 1st Baron Hankey. He’s an old acquaintance of Churchill’s, who convinced him to take this new post. You must have heard of him. He’s been the Secretary to the Imperial Defense Committee for the past twenty-three years and was simultaneously Secretary of the War Council. In fact, he’s the man who sold the idea of a tracked armored vehicle to Churchill back in 1914.
“His new unit is still in the incubator. It hasn’t been launched yet, but it’s a Churchill brainchild, at least partially. It’s being formed by combining the functions of three existing agencies, so it will gain a lot of high-level support, but it already has detractors. I don’t think MI-6 likes it much because, like MI-9, they’ll be trying to recruit and use the same assets.
“I expect it’ll go active next month. It’s to be called the Special Operations Executive, or SOE, and its purpose is to set up networks across Europe like ours, but for the express purpose of carrying out acts of sabotage. Essentially, it aims to open up a new front behind enemy lines by training and supporting local partisans.”
Jeremy had listened intently without interruption. Now he interjected, “That’s a great idea. The partisans will welcome it. And what an incredible career Hankey has had. But how did he learn about me, and what does he want?”
Crockatt chuckled. “You stood at the door of intelligence headquarters with a crying toddler in your arms in the middle of the night asking anyone who went by how to get to MI-9. That drew attention, and I’m positive that the Oronsay’s Captain Savage told your story at high levels. Word got around. Both of us want to interview anyone who escaped France after Dunkirk. We want to know how it was done, what contacts were made, and if they can be renewed.” He hesitated. “I’m sure, like me, he might want to recruit you. We’ll be going after as many chaps as we can who show promise.”
“Sir, I appreciate that, but I have to tell you that I’m not a trained combatant or intelligence operator. I’m a civil engineer. I want to go back, certainly, to help the people who helped me, but for your purposes, I probably know only enough to get in the way.”
As he spoke, they watched a man walk across the gardens from one of the huts.
“That’s Lord Hankey now,” Crockatt said. “Before he gets here, let me say two things very quickly. Your tenacity at Dunkirk, your experiences in crossing France, and your courage and perseverance in rescuing that child are remarkable, well above the norm. Coupled with your language ability in French, well, you’re just what MI-9 is looking for, and we’ll train you for whatever else you need to know.”
Lord Hankey drew closer on the front sidewalk. He stopped to watch Timmy a moment and patted the child on the head. Timmy looked up at him with a big smile.
“He’s not a bad sort,” Crockatt said, watching Hankey. “The other thing I want to say, and you should know, is that your brother, Paul, was a fiend for seeking out information about you and Lance. He pestered me almost daily, and I’m sure he did the same thing with other sections. I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully so far, to recruit him. You carry the same characteristic of perseverance. Must be a family thing. But you can be very proud of his dedication to you and Lance, and your family.”
Jeremy coughed to relieve his constricting throat. “Thank you, sir, for telling me.” In spite of himself, his voice cracked.
Lord Hankey arrived at the door. Jeremy met him there and welcomed him inside. He was a thin man, slightly below medium height, in his sixties with a high forehead and a heavy mustache.
After niceties, the three men sat down in the front room. The questions inevitably led to a request for Jeremy to recount his experiences, beginning with how he found himself in combat north of Dunkirk to how he ended up in Crockatt’s office. Occasionally, they interrupted to ask for more detail or seek clarification.
Halfway through, the nanny brought Timmy inside. When the little boy came through the front door and spotted Jeremy, his eyes lit up, and he ran over with uplifted arms. Then, he stopped and looked around.
“Mummy?” he said, eyes wide and questioning, his palms turned outward. “Mummy?”
Jeremy picked him up and held him close, hiding his own misted eyes. Then the nanny took the child for his bath before supper. For a time, the room remained uncomfortably quiet. Hankey stifled a cough and looked away, while Crockatt stared straight ahead.
After Timmy and the nanny had disappeared into the back rooms, Jeremy finished telling his story and responded to questions. Then, Hankey said, “I suppose the major told you his interest, which is the same as mine.”
“He did,” Jeremy responded, “and I’m a little overwhelmed by it all. I don’t see myself as anything special; I’m a common chap trying to survive in an
