Approving murmurs arose from various quarters. “Dame Marian,” a voice called, “do you believe the Germans will come here?”
“I do,” Marian replied somberly, “if only for the propaganda value of seizing British territory.”
“Let them come,” someone else piped in. “I still have my musket.”
A ripple of laughter circulated in the crowd. Marian smiled with genuine humor.
“Yes, under our obligations to the Crown, we still defend our island with at least forty muskets, and we know they are all rusty.” Then she became serious again. “With London’s demilitarization announcement last week, as you know, came an offer to evacuate any of us who wishes for that. We will help anyone who chooses to go.”
She paused to let the gravity of her pronouncement sink in. “Before you decide, think carefully about what your departure could mean. I believe that if we leave, the island we come back to will not be the one we know and love. Everything that makes us unique in this world will have been wrenched from us.”
She took a deep breath as her eyes swept the room. “Therefore, Stephen and I have decided that we will not leave, and I appeal to you personally to stay with us.”
No one stirred, no one spoke. Individual faces showed the weight of decision pressed on them.
Laden with concern, a single voice broke the silence. “How will we meet them?”
With a glance at Stephen and then at the floor, Marian lifted her head and steepled her fingers against her chin. “I have a few ideas. Hear me out. When the Germans come, the principle they must grasp is that while they occupy our beloved Sark Island, they will never dominate us. We are and always will be proud British subjects, and Sercquiais.”
45
London, England
The head of MI-6, Brigadier John Menzies, stared coldly around the room. Present with him were Lord Hankey, Major Crockatt, Paul, Jeremy, Claire, and Commander Alastair Denniston, deputy head of the Government Communications Headquarters at Bletchley Park. All looked serious, but Jeremy was also bewildered.
Menzies first glared at him. “You, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice high-pitched and cracking. “I understand you’re at the center of this discussion. Please explain.”
Startled, Jeremy uncrossed his ankles and stood up. He wore a new uniform supplied by Crockatt. “Sir, I don’t know what the subject matter is, who you are, or why I’m here. Forty-five minutes ago, I received an order from Major Crockatt to be present for this meeting. Aside from that, I’m in the dark.”
Menzies studied him. “You’re that officer who was rescued by the Oronsay, aren’t you? The one who saved the little boy?”
Jeremy nodded. “I suppose I am, sir, but I hardly—”
“Save your modesty,” Menzies interrupted irritably. “Please wait outside in the next office.”
Feeling his ears turn hot with humiliation and the eyes of everyone in the room following him, Jeremy rose and exited, closing the door behind him.
When he had gone, Menzies looked around at the others. “Is there anyone else who claims to be unaware of what we’re here to talk about?” When no one spoke up, he continued. “I brought you here by request of and in deference to Lord Hankey.” He scowled. “Understand that I could have frog-marched each of you in here in handcuffs and leg chains. Bletchley Park’s security has been breached. That risks one of our most closely guarded secrets, which so far is our greatest hope for victory. How and why did the breach take place, and how do we contain the damage?”
He looked around at each face, his anger evident, and then spoke directly to Denniston. “I would like you to remind the people in Hut 6 at Bletchley Park that it is their job to intercept German communications and decode them. It is not to translate and analyze them or recommend action based on them. Is that understood?”
Denniston coughed and threw a look at Claire. “I’ll deal with it, sir.”
Menzies fixed his cold gaze on her. “I understand that you are the source of the breach.”
“She is not, sir.” Paul stood. “I knew about the purpose at Bletchley independent of her.”
His discovery of Bletchley’s major role in the war effort had been accidental, although given his job at MI-6, he surely would have learned about its secrets sooner or later. That special section belonging to MI-6 was home to the band of cryptologists and codebreakers, and to Enigma, the cypher machine used by the German army to generate code that was supposed to be unbreakable. Using an Enigma given to British intelligence by Poland just before their own German invasion, not only had the staff at Bletchley Park broken the code, but they also did it at such speeds that they read virtually every message emanating from German high command and its field units. Indeed, it was such messaging that had alerted Churchill to the need and opportunity to evacuate at Dunkirk.
Menzies leaned back in his chair, clearly angered by the interruption. “Please explain, Lieutenant, concisely.”
“I work in your organization, sir. I read and analyze lots of intelligence. While I was not specifically authorized to know about the goings-on at Bletchley, if I did not know about it, that would mean I am not doing my job thoroughly, because I would have missed the documents that are associated with my work.”
Without changing expression, Menzies broke in. “Hmmm. We’ll have to talk about that later. I take it that you are an analyst?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you have any other aspirations for the duration of this war?”
With a glance at Crockatt and mindful of the major’s pending offer, Paul replied, “I had thought I might transfer to one of the fighter squadrons. I hear they are in desperate need of pilots, and flight school is not very long these days. I’m already a licensed pilot.”
Menzies scoffed. “Well you can get that idea right out of your head.
