Mr.Churchill's Secretary(76)

“I tried. I did the best I could.”

“Why didn’t you try harder? You just left.”

“Maggie … Is there anything you need? Anything at all?” he asked. “Money? I have money. God knows I don’t spend any of it myself.…”

“No,” Maggie said finally. “I don’t need anything from you.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, which Maggie finally broke. “And so, how did you end up here? At Bletchley?”

“Once I was well enough that I didn’t need to be in hospital, I didn’t know where to go or what to do. London reminded me too much of your mother. I knew I had to leave. And several of the dons at Cambridge were kind enough to let me stay with them, teach the odd class.”

“Ah,” Maggie said. “That’s how I found you. I went to LSE, and Samuel Barstow said that not only were you alive but that he thought you might have gone back to Cambridge. It was there that I put it together with Bletchley.”

Edmund blinked. “How do you know about Bletchley?”

“I work for the Prime Minister, as a typist. Privy to a lot of classified information.”

Edmund took a moment to process what Maggie had just told him. “Samuel … Good Lord, yes, Samuel Barstow … Well, there were lots of ‘madmen’ at Cambridge in those days. And a lot of us are here now, at Bletchley.”

“Cryptanalytic work,” she said. “Yes, although I wasn’t briefed on the specifics, I know that much.”

“Cryptography, yes.”

“But why the act?” she pressed. “You seem perfectly fine here and now.”

“Ah, that,” he said, rubbing his chin. “You see, I was a known quantity. Everyone knew that I’d had a break of sorts, and that I’d been a little wobbly on my pins ever since. It made it easy to pretend to be a mad genius to the rest of the cryptographers.”

It was almost too much to comprehend. “But—but why?”

“MI-Five came to me and suggested it. It’s suspected that there’s a leak. A secret agent, if you will. Because I’m in many ways disregarded, it’s my job to keep an eye on the rest of the boffins. See if anyone slips up.”

Maggie took a sip of brandy. A large one. “So they agreed to let me see you—if you kept up the charade,” she said.

“I never expected to see you, not after the war broke out. Why would a girl from America be in London? Especially with a war on. But when Richard Snodgrass called—”

“Snodgrass?” Again, that man. He was everywhere, it seemed.

“Mr. Snodgrass knew that you were trying to find me. He also knew about my position and its sensitive nature. So yes, I agreed to the charade. But I couldn’t let the opportunity to meet with you pass by.”

“How did Snodgrass know I was trying to find you?”

“We’re all under surveillance,” Edmund said. “I’ve been undercover for years, and we’re getting very close to catching our spy. Peter Frain is the head of the operation, but when you became involved, I’m sure Mr. Snodgrass—”

“But I’m just a typist. Why would he be interested in someone like me?”

“An excellent question, my dear,” said a man stepping out of the shadows. “A most excellent question.”

Back in his office, Snodgrass looked once again at the clipping, blinking rapidly. “Mr. Sterling, are you absolutely certain?”

“It’s in code, sir. It’s Morse code, German and backward. Half-alphabet. It mentions three operations. Operation Naval Person must refer to the fact that Mr. Churchill used to be the First Sea Lord—”

“Which means that although we have our assassin in custody, there are still two other scenarios in play.” Snodgrass picked up a red Bakelite receiver. “Yes, get me MI-Five. Peter Frain. It’s urgent.”

While they waited, Snodgrass put his hand over the mouthpiece. “By the way, good work, Sterling, very good work.” Then Snodgrass was speaking to Frain. “Don’t have much time. There’s been an attempt on the P.M.’s life. We have the would-be assassin, Claire Kelly, in custody.”

A silence on Snodgrass’s end, and then, “But there’s more. According to what we’ve uncovered, it’s only the beginning. Something about Operation Hope—”

Snodgrass’s slight shoulders slumped. “Yes, that’s what I feared, too. And Operation Paul.”

John shuffled impatiently. “And Miss Hope?”

Snodgrass gave him a stern look. “Miss Hope is in Bletchley. Although our ‘madman’ played his role convincingly.” Snodgrass said into the phone, “We’ll be off directly, then, to collect her.”