Page 20 of Tides of Resistance
‘Hmm, you laugh, but this operation sounds like a recipe for disaster. Her only contact has most likely been compromised, so she has no way of reaching us when she needs to be extracted.’
Val sighed and finished her tea. ‘Without our sense of humour, we may as well hand over the keys to the kingdom to the Boche right now. Lizzie is the best we’ve got. Don’t underestimate her. I’ve told you this before.’
Jack resigned himself to the inevitable. He had pushed it far enough with Val, and the operation was out of his hands. All he could do now was hope and pray. And wait to hear from Lizzie.
‘Oh, I forgot to say. There’s more good news. We supplied her with radio crystals.’
‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. Gives her a fighting chance of establishing contact without being caught if she can get her hands on a radio set.’
Since he fell for the young woman from Jersey who took his breath away with her courage and daring, he’d prayed more than he ever had in his life.
Somehow, he got through the debriefing but then lingered in the office until late, not wanting to go back to the empty flat and face the reality that she would not be there. He desperately hoped there would be a message from Lizzie and plagued the cryptographer intermittently throughout the day, but it was all to no avail.
Val poked her head into his office after the busy corridors of the building gradually fell silent. ‘You must be whacked. Go home and get some sleep. That’s an order.’
Jack wearily collected his things and slipped his jacket on. The rain was coming down hard outside the window, but hedidn’t bother taking an umbrella. He couldn’t feel any worse than he already did.
On the short walk to his flat, visions of Lizzie taunted him. First, she was on a submarine waiting for the moment when she must abandon the safety of its walls, then battling through the deadly Brittany coastal tides towards St. Malo. Finally, he dared to hope she’d made it to shore, and he envisioned her arriving at her cousins’ house in St. Malo where a member of the family would be home to offer her safe harbour.
He had to believe they still lived there, and Lizzie could rest for a while and get her bearings.
The first twenty-four hours in Nazi-occupied territory were make or break.
Where was she now?
CHAPTER 12
St. Malo, Occupied France
Lizzie’s heart ricochetted against her chest, and she held her breath as the muttered conversation grew ever closer. Spending so much time in occupied France had its benefits. Her rudimentary German had improved considerably, and she could understand the soldiers’ words. Her mother said she had an ear for languages, and it had never been more useful since joining the SOE.
One soldier had suggested they check the cave, followed by a long pause that made Lizzie’s senses spin.
Were they about to enterthiscave or were the footsteps further away than they sounded? Between the thrashing waves and the wind blowing in off the sea, it was impossible to estimate how close they were.
Lizzie stayed pressed in the crevice, trying not to make a sound but it was challenging when her insides felt like water. Her systems were still on high alert from the swim and her body hadn’t fully recovered from the shock.
The footsteps grew louder, and the other voice replied saying they should because they had orders from theKommandantto carry out spot checks of the caves.
The beam of a torch illuminated the entrance to the cave as one soldier called to the other to come and look.
‘Komm her, sieh dir das an.’
Needles of pure terror coated Lizzie’s flesh as she waited to see her fate.
‘Ist das nicht fantastisch?’
Then it dawned on her they were admiring something that had caught the soldier’s eye.
What on earth were they looking at? Lizzie stole a quick breath to steady herself and prayed fervently she wouldn’t be discovered.
There were more cooing sounds of admiration. They seemed to be impressed by something immediately outside the cave.
Then she heard a heavy clink. They must be examining the rusty smugglers’ ring that marked the cave. She didn’t dare move or make a noise. Suddenly, the flash of the torch whipped over the ceiling of the cave and skirted down the back wall and across the uneven ground, towards the corner where she stood, her legs weak.
Thank God she’d already hidden her belongings, or they would have exposed her. From her concealed spot, she caught sight of the silhouette of a tall soldier wearing a helmet. Then there was a faint glowing dot mid-air, and the familiar aroma of cigarettes wafted into the cave.
Lizzie breathed quietly, her breath ragged as she fought to contain it, fear gripping her.
