Hewitt collected his papers and smiled. “And to you, Mrs. Henshaw.”
She nodded at Thatcher as if she’d only then noticed him. “Who’s this then?”
Hewitt grinned and slipped on a cockney accent. “Don’t you know? This here’s Harrison Thatcher. Come to save Queen and country he has.”
Mrs. Henshaw smiled. “Looks like he didn’t know that was going to be the plan. Well, no matter, let’s get him set up with a pass so you gentlemen can go about your business.”
She wrote something down on a piece of paper and offered it to Thatcher. “Pin this to your right lapel. Keep it there while you’re in this building. If you lose it, report to me at once. If you leave this building, this pass stays here.”
Thatcher took the pass. “What if I forget?”
Mrs. Henshaw’s hand dipped beneath the desk and when it reemerged, there was a nasty looking gun in her hand. “Then we’ll just have to shoot you, dear.”
Thatcher looked at Hewitt. “Is it a requirement for everyone in this organization to have some sort of predisposition to violence?”
“Just being careful,” said Hewitt. “Come on.” He turned back to Jeremy. “We’re all set from here on out. I shan’t need you for an hour or so.”
Jeremy nodded and ducked back outside. Thatcher watched him go. “Not very talkative that one.”
Hewitt eyed him. “Jeremy had his tongue yanked out by the Gestapo during a torture session in Holland. Despite that, he managed to escape and make his way back here. I’d rather say that speaks volumes about his character, don’t you think?”
Thatcher swallowed.
Hewitt pointed to an elevator. “You, on the other hand, are nothing right now but a rogue with a stay of execution. Whether you remain that or not is the question we shall have to answer.”
Thatcher rode the lift in silence. At the third floor, Hewitt pulled back the grate and they walked down a musty hallway. Here and there, Thatcher saw another person pass from one door to the next. But all the doors were firmly shut. Each frosted glass window had cryptic letters and symbols on it, with nothing identified by common names.
Hewitt reached a door toward the end of the long corridor, unlocked it and then ushered Thatcher inside. There was a heavy wooden desk and several chairs. By the window, sandbags had been stacked to protect against flying glass in case of another bombing by the Germans. On the wall was a huge map of the world.
Hewitt helped himself to a decanter of brandy on the side shelf. He offered one to Thatcher who took it without a word. Hewitt sat down behind his desk and sipped the brandy. After a moment, he set the drink down and regarded Thatcher.
Thatcher drank the brandy and found it stiff but good. He finished and nodded to Hewitt. “Thank you.”
“You’ve probably been needing that since this morning.”
Thatcher grinned. “Absolutely.”
“Just don’t get addicted to the stuff. Last thing I need is you going straight on the piss.”
Thatcher said nothing. Hewitt continued to study him. “Been one cocked up life you’ve led so far, hasn’t it?”
“I haven’t done badly.”
Hewitt sniffed. “I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. From my view, things had pretty much gone down the drain as of this morning. Barring my appearance, of course.”
Thatcher shrugged. “From my perspective, they might be looking up.”
“You haven’t heard the job yet.”
Thatcher glanced at the map on the wall. “Well, it’s got to involve a boat or something, since you asked earlier about that.”
Hewitt smiled. “How much of the news did you manage to get while inside jail?”
“Not a lot.”
“Have you heard of the commerce raiders?”
“No.”
Hewitt unlocked the side drawer of his desk and brought out a sheaf of papers and photographs. He passed these to Thatcher. Each photo showed what looked like a merchant ship.
“They look innocent enough, don’t they?”
“German cargo ships?” Thatcher passed the papers back. “What about them?”
Hewitt stood and walked to the map on the wall. “They’re anything but true cargo ships. What they are, are carefully disguised war ships. Complete with cannon, torpedo, and even reconnaissance aircraft.”
“For what purpose?”
Hewitt stabbed his finger at the Indian Ocean. “Here’s where they’re most active. In this link between Indochina and Europe. We’ve got thousands of tons of shipping passing through here every month. Food, ammunition, fuel, supplies for our garrisons in the Far East. They’re busy with the Japs and a lifeline to us is essential for their survival.
“What these ships do is little short of piracy. They run false flags, show the colors of neutral or allied countries and then, when they get close enough, either sink or capture the ships. They take prisoners and the supplies.” Hewitt turned to Thatcher. “They are quite literally sinking us out of the war.”
“I thought U-boats were a more serious threat.”
Hewitt nodded. “The wolf packs are a problem. No doubt. But these commerce raiders have the ability to operate for months at a time, and they are quite adept at sneaking around the thousands of miles of oceans. Our navy boys are trying their damnedest to stop them, but they’re like ghosts these things.”
“How many?”
Hewitt sat back down. “Nine. We thought they’d stop there — be content with just the nine of them.”
“They’re not?”
Hewitt shook his head. “Intelligence reports that they’re getting ready to launch a new one. We’ve codenamed her Raider X. A tenth commerce raider said to be larger and more destructive than any of the others combined. If Raider X takes to the seas, Britain could be out of the war within a matter of weeks.”
Thatcher looked at the map and then back at Hewitt. “And I’m supposed to do something about this?”
Hewitt smiled. “We want you — quite simply — to destroy Raider X.”
CHAPTER 3
“You’re mad, of course.”
Hewitt continued to smile. “Not at all. You’ve been selected as the appropriate choice for the job. You have certain qualifications that we feel would most likely project a positive outcome.”
Thatcher looked at the brandy decanter and wondered if another shot would help steel his reserve. “That sounds rather sterile to me. Almost as if we’re discussing a business venture.”
“Aren’t we? Isn’t war merely a larger function of national corporations eager for more resources, a larger market share, or some manner of trade?” Hewitt leaned forward. “In any event, it’s irrelevant. You are the man we want.”
“Judging by what you told me about SOE, you ought to have many other suitable candidates for a mission like this.”
Hewitt grinned. “Well, that’s the thing, see? We do have other operatives, but since we’ve invested quite a bit of time and money into their training, we’re rather reluctant to send them off on this particular venture.”
Thatcher glanced at the brandy decanter again. “So, it’s that kind of operation then? I’m not supposed to come back.”
Hewitt shook his head. “Not that. We’d like it if you did come back safe and sound. The likelihood of that happening is slim, however, and if we lose you, then there’s no drama as you were set to die anyway.”
“Rather convenient.”
“It is a war, after all. One must be pragmatic.”
Thatcher sniffed. “Never fancied myself a pragmatist.”
“You certainly seemed to be this morning. Jumped at the chance to change your fortune.”
“Nor did I think I’d ever be of any good to the Crown.”
Hewitt stood, walked to the window and looked outside. “There, you see? Your life’s not a complete waste after all. Do this little errand for us, get some semblance of respect back, and who knows what tomorrow might bring?”