come it could alter the balance of the war at sea.’
Mary nodded.
Winn leant forward to cram the cigarette he had just lit into an ashtray already overflowing with butts. She could tell he was on edge. ‘You’re a member of a very small circle, Mary. And the members of the circle must guard its secret very closely . . .’
Mary flushed a little: ‘I know that, Rodger.’
‘Yes,’ said Winn uncomfortably. ‘This is difficult. I understand you’re seeing Lieutenant Lindsay.’
Mary stared at him, confused for a moment and embarrassed. Then a hot tide of anger began to well up inside her and it was with difficulty that she managed to steady her voice: ‘Who told you that?’
‘The Director’s Assistant. Fleming had it from your brother.’
‘Yes, I’m seeing Douglas but I can’t see what that has to do with you or him.’
‘Can’t you?’ asked Winn coolly.
‘No,’ she lied.
‘Of course you can.’
Mary was about to say something but Winn held up his hand.
‘No. Let me finish. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but the security people want to question you. Fleming has put them off. He told them I would speak to you instead.’
‘Why? Is this to do with Douglas’s family?’
‘Yes. And also his interest in our codes. He’s one of the few people fighting this war who’s face to face with the enemy every day. The interrogators are under orders to avoid any reference to signals or codes. They could let something slip, a careless observation, a badly phrased question that reveals something about our signals or theirs. It’s too risky – it could find its way to Berlin. Prisoners have their ways of passing on intelligence too. We know that.’
‘I see.’
‘So you will be careful what you say won’t you?’ said Winn.
‘Of course,’ she said crossly.
‘Sorry,’ said Winn – there was nothing in his voice to suggest that he meant it – ’but we need to be clear about these things.’
‘And you are now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then perhaps you’ll excuse me.’
Winn shuffled awkwardly in his chair. Mary was struck again by the tired lines on his face, the tobacco-yellow tinge to his complexion, and in spite of herself she felt sorry for him. He was doing no more than his duty.
‘It’s fine, Rodger. I know how important security is.’
He blinked at her and smiled: ‘I know you do.’
She was at the door of his office when, almost as an afterthought, he said: ‘Funny, but he seems to have upset a few people, doesn’t he?’
Mary turned to look at him sharply. ‘Douglas? Who has he upset?’
‘Well, what about your brother?’
It troubled Mary for the rest of the day. People were talking about her, asking, ‘Can Mary be trusted?’ It had never crossed her mind that she should speak of her work but Winn had gone out of his way to warn her against it and in a strange way that made a difference. She felt as if she was being drawn into a conspiracy to keep Lindsay at a distance. She was conscious that she was doing only half her job and she kept glancing furtively over at Winn’s office to see if he waswatching her. Winn was far too busy. He had probably forgotten their conversation already. But she felt an enormous sense of release when, at a little after seven, she stepped out of the Citadel into evening sunshine.
She had arranged to meet Lindsay beneath the lions in Trafalgar Square. He had booked a table at La Coquille just two minutes walk away in St Martin’s Lane. It was only a few days after one of the heaviest raids Mary could remember and yet the square was bustling with West End theatre-goers. A group of young women in air-force blue was feeding the pigeons, joking, laughing, and a pavement artist was hanging his pictures on the railings outside St Martin-in-the-Fields.
‘Hello you.’
Mary felt his lips upon her neck and she reached up to touch his hair. Lindsay turned her shoulders towards him, held both her hands and looked at her intently.
‘I don’t
Mary nodded.
Winn leant forward to cram the cigarette he had just lit into an ashtray already overflowing with butts. She could tell he was on edge. ‘You’re a member of a very small circle, Mary. And the members of the circle must guard its secret very closely . . .’
Mary flushed a little: ‘I know that, Rodger.’
‘Yes,’ said Winn uncomfortably. ‘This is difficult. I understand you’re seeing Lieutenant Lindsay.’
Mary stared at him, confused for a moment and embarrassed. Then a hot tide of anger began to well up inside her and it was with difficulty that she managed to steady her voice: ‘Who told you that?’
‘The Director’s Assistant. Fleming had it from your brother.’
‘Yes, I’m seeing Douglas but I can’t see what that has to do with you or him.’
‘Can’t you?’ asked Winn coolly.
‘No,’ she lied.
‘Of course you can.’
Mary was about to say something but Winn held up his hand.
‘No. Let me finish. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but the security people want to question you. Fleming has put them off. He told them I would speak to you instead.’
‘Why? Is this to do with Douglas’s family?’
‘Yes. And also his interest in our codes. He’s one of the few people fighting this war who’s face to face with the enemy every day. The interrogators are under orders to avoid any reference to signals or codes. They could let something slip, a careless observation, a badly phrased question that reveals something about our signals or theirs. It’s too risky – it could find its way to Berlin. Prisoners have their ways of passing on intelligence too. We know that.’
‘I see.’
‘So you will be careful what you say won’t you?’ said Winn.
‘Of course,’ she said crossly.
‘Sorry,’ said Winn – there was nothing in his voice to suggest that he meant it – ’but we need to be clear about these things.’
‘And you are now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then perhaps you’ll excuse me.’
Winn shuffled awkwardly in his chair. Mary was struck again by the tired lines on his face, the tobacco-yellow tinge to his complexion, and in spite of herself she felt sorry for him. He was doing no more than his duty.
‘It’s fine, Rodger. I know how important security is.’
He blinked at her and smiled: ‘I know you do.’
She was at the door of his office when, almost as an afterthought, he said: ‘Funny, but he seems to have upset a few people, doesn’t he?’
Mary turned to look at him sharply. ‘Douglas? Who has he upset?’
‘Well, what about your brother?’
It troubled Mary for the rest of the day. People were talking about her, asking, ‘Can Mary be trusted?’ It had never crossed her mind that she should speak of her work but Winn had gone out of his way to warn her against it and in a strange way that made a difference. She felt as if she was being drawn into a conspiracy to keep Lindsay at a distance. She was conscious that she was doing only half her job and she kept glancing furtively over at Winn’s office to see if he waswatching her. Winn was far too busy. He had probably forgotten their conversation already. But she felt an enormous sense of release when, at a little after seven, she stepped out of the Citadel into evening sunshine.
She had arranged to meet Lindsay beneath the lions in Trafalgar Square. He had booked a table at La Coquille just two minutes walk away in St Martin’s Lane. It was only a few days after one of the heaviest raids Mary could remember and yet the square was bustling with West End theatre-goers. A group of young women in air-force blue was feeding the pigeons, joking, laughing, and a pavement artist was hanging his pictures on the railings outside St Martin-in-the-Fields.
‘Hello you.’
Mary felt his lips upon her neck and she reached up to touch his hair. Lindsay turned her shoulders towards him, held both her hands and looked at her intently.
‘I don’t
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