Swan patted her bare arm. ‘Don’t worry, Jilly. Even if I was, which I’m not, your secret would be safe with me. By the sounds of it, your orientated life of crime, has had enough bad luck as it is. I’m sure, that even my colleague, who does happen to be an ex-Scotland Yard detective, would agree with me.’ He looked into her grey eyes. ‘So, fear not, Jilly, you’re reprieved, from a spell in Holloway.’ He gestured at her light blue Morris Minor. ‘That is providing of course, you are not hiding an escaped convict, in there.’
The girl also looked at her car. ‘Now, what on Earth, would give you that idea, Mr Swan?’
Part Two
Eagle
Chapter 24
Having not along arrived at the SID office, Gable leaped out of his chair to answer the ringing telephone. ‘Whitehall 9921?’ He listened, then recognising the voice of Janet Ross, explained to her that his colleague was on his way back to London. ‘Shall I get him to call you when he arrives? I take it that you’re in the office, this morning?’
On the third floor of Leconfield House, headquarters of the British Security Service, more familiarly known as MI5, Janet Ross, sat at her desk and held the receiver closely to her ear. As she listened to Gable, she glanced at the frosted glass door of her boss, Dennis Martin. This was the only door in the building that had this feature.
On his appointment as Deputy Head of A Section, Martin had arranged for it to be specially fitted, as he preferred to see who was approaching his door before inviting them in.
She thanked Gable, then put the receiver back on the cradle, in quick enough time to notice the familiar distorted shape of her boss approaching his door.
Martin hastily pulled it open brandishing a foolscap sized manila envelope. ‘Ah, Janet, can I ask you for a quick favour?’
She gave him a friendly smile. ‘Of course, sir, what can I do for you?’
‘I need this to go to B Section, sharpish, if you wouldn’t mind, as I am waiting on an important call.’
‘No problem, sir.’
Ross took the envelope and watched Martin retreat from the desk and return to his office. She looked at the front of the envelope to read Martin’s handwriting: FYEO Head of B Section. By Hand.
She raised her right eyebrow, quizzically, curious as to why the contents should have an ‘Eyes Only’ classification. Clutching it tight, she walked towards the double doors leading to the staircase.
Her friend Katherine Miller, PA to Head of B Section, Hugo Davies sat typing; her long auburn hair tied back in a French plait.
Ross smiled. ‘Morning Kathy, I have this ‘Eyes Only’, for Mr Davies, from Mr Martin. Is he in?’
Miller looked up from her typewriter, taking off her reading glasses. ‘Yes, he’s just arrived. Looks a bit rough this morning. He was on the sauce last night, with some of his old Eton pals.’
Ross walked over to the door and knocked; a gruff voice behind it beckoning her in. She opened the door and walked inside. ‘Good morning, sir. I have this for you, from Mr Martin.’
Davies was sitting at his desk struggling to light his pipe, as Ross walked over and handed him the envelope. He looked at it dismissingly, placing it in his mounting ‘In Tray’.
Ross felt slightly uncomfortable, as he gave her a lecherous smile.
‘Janet, how are you my dear? I say, that is a nice blouse you’re wearing. We don’t see much of you now, since you went to work for Dennis. How is the old goat anyway?’
Ross smiled. ‘I’m fine sir, and Mr Martin is well, and busy by the looks of things.’
‘Yes, so I hear. That big flap with the poor chap who got boiled under the Black Arrow rocket at Highdown. I bet you have no idea who’s been put on that case, do you, my dear?’
Ross gave a convincing shake of her head. ‘No sir, I have no idea,’ she lied.
‘None other, than the old Weasel himself, Alex Swan, that’s who.’
‘Really?’ said Ross, faking her surprise.
Davies placed his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together; the now-lit pipe protruding through his fingers. ‘Yes, my dear, Stratton, asked him to look into it, because his office address was found on the German chap, who was found by the river. He also knew that German test pilot fellow, who was found dead by the children on a building site in Battersea on Saturday, and on hearing of the incident on the Isle of Wight, took himself over there.’
He gave Ross a malicious sneer. ‘Didn’t you and he have a little, shall we say, romantic interlude, at one time?’
Ross realised this was suddenly heading too close for comfort. ‘I better be getting back, sir. Mr Martin will probably be needing me.’
Davies smiled, taking a puff on his pipe. ‘Yes, of course my dear. Give my regards to him, won’t you, and tell him, if he’s up for lunch at The Brigand Club this week, I’ll be there, this Friday.’
‘I will let him know for you, sir.’
Ross walked out of the office and smiled at Miller, who stopped her typing. ‘I heard what he said, about Alex,’ she whispered.
Ross put her finger to her lips. ‘‘Ssshh, Kathy. Remember you are the only one who knows,’ she winked.
Miller smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t told a soul. Are you okay for lunch later, at Giorgio’s?’
‘I should be.’ Ross leant on the desk and lowered her voice. ‘That’s if the old goat, doesn’t need me to run anymore of his bloody errands for him! I think he’s getting me back for going to Paris with Stratton, over the weekend. Anyway, I may or may not see you later.’ Ross walked through the doors and back up the staircase.
Back in his office, The Head of B section put down his pipe, reached across his desk and retrieved the envelope. He opened it and pulled out a piece of headed paper; FOR YOUR EYES ONLY was stamped into the left-hand corner. He then read the handwritten note with interest.
H
Re- Highdown Incident Update, Assistant Chief Engineer Kevin Powell — Investigation. Verdict was, that Powell was murdered by an ex- Nazi- French rocket engineer, Jean Lempiere, who was an active collaborator of Operation Todt in the war. He killed Powell, then placed the body inside the efflux chamber of Gantry 2, prior to the Black Arrow ground test.
Lempiere committed suicide yesterday, and Swan was present when the German jumped to his death. I think The Weasel may know more about what is going on down there. I also think, there is a link to the deaths, here in London.
Keep it from S for now — There could be a gong for us both, if we play our cards right. We’ll let Swan do the running, and then take it off him when the time is right.
Looks like the Nazis could be back in town.
I will keep you posted.
D
Davies shook his head. Picking up a box of matches, he struck one and holding the memo, lit the corner of the paper. He watched attentively, as the flame danced over the FYEO stamp, engulfing the blue ink of Martin’s handwriting. After which, he placed the flaked embers into his ashtray, dabbing at them with the butt of his cigarette.
Later that morning, Swan swung his car into his parking space next to Gable’s Cambridge, outside the SID Headquarters, locked it, and went upstairs into the office. Inside, Gable was at his desk reading the newspaper, when Swan walked in and took off his jacket. ‘Morning Arthur, be a good chap and make me a cup of your finest, will you? The A3 was bloody murder, all the way from Kingston into London.’
Gable put down the newspaper and rose from his chair. ‘I thought you might have gone home first, Alex, Janet phoned earlier. She wants you to ring her.’