Page 18 of Tides of Resistance
She flattened herself against the damp wall, covered by the lip of the cave as muted voices floated across the water. The radio crackled again, and German commands rang out.
The SOE briefed her that there was a German watchtower in the area, which must have been the night patrol that shone its beams as she swam. They calculated it was the least dangerous insertion point because her familiarity with the caveswould outweigh the risks. Watchtowers were positioned around the coast, and they agreed she should enter where she would recognise the terrain in an area with the lowest defences.
Lizzie shouldn’t be shocked to hear German soldiers carrying out their patrols, but blood pounded in her head, and she stood there like a statue trying to breathe without making the slightest noise.
What if they had come by boat and moored by the caves? She could be trapped and unable to escape before sunrise. If anyone saw her emerge at first light, she would almost certainly be doomed. What respectable woman would dare spend the night in a cave in peacetime, never mind during wartime curfew?
The voices grew louder, and Lizzie feared the worst. She jammed herself into a crevice, praying she wouldn’t be visible if the soldiers entered.
The sound of heavy boots clipping across the granite approached, and Lizzie waited, her heart thudding so hard, the noise seemed to fill the cave.
The guttural sound of German swirled into her ears as it echoed across the rocks.
They said they were coming to check the cave.
Lizzie held her breath in the corner crevice.
One beam of light illuminating her hiding place, and it would all be over.
CHAPTER 11
Baker Street, London
Seething anger ripped through Jack. Val appeared nonchalant, as though she’d told him something as ordinary as what they were about to eat for lunch. She had no idea she’d just wrecked his life. He couldn’t blame her for not knowing the impact the news had on him, but he could blame her for throwing Lizzie into a snake pit.
At that moment, every ounce of his being blamed her, and he was angrier with her than he’d ever been. Jack worked hard to control his feelings on the job and prided himself on his ability to weather difficult situations. This was different, and he realised he was trembling.
He couldn’t allow Val to suspect the effect her news had on him, so he hastily forced his demeanour into that of a tired agent coming home after an intense few months.
Underneath his carefully controlled exterior, he was so angry he had the urge to shout at Val, and it shocked him. She was his boss, and it wasn’t his place to judge or criticise her decisions. She had done what she thought best, and he would have toaccept it. It was too late to stop the St. Malo mission from going ahead now, anyway.
Despite his quick-fire resolution, he couldn’t hold himself back from grilling her on the details of the operation. He kept his emotions tightly in check and his mannerisms smooth, so he wouldn’t betray the pain that clawed at him as he imagined Lizzie arriving alone in the Nazi-occupied city.
Again.
Once they were inside HQ, he followed Val upstairs to her office.
‘When will we hear from Seagrove that she’s arrived safely?’ Jack asked, his deep voice cracking slightly.
Val indicated he should sit down, and he lit a cigarette to distract himself from his pumping heart.
‘We don’t expect a message from her for quite some time.’
Jack blinked, not believing what she was telling him. This nightmare was only getting worse.
‘Why is that?’ he asked, inhaling sharply, trying not to snap.
‘Well, there’s no organised network there, or we wouldn’t need to send her in.’ Val tapped her pencil on the desk, and he could see she was growing impatient.
‘Right,’ Jack said, blowing smoke upwards, fighting to sound like his usual pedantic self where his recruits were concerned. ‘But won’t she set up the radio once she’s got a base and message in with the usual protocol? It shouldn’t take long, based on her past performance, especially if she stays with her family in the city.’
Val had the good grace to look sheepish, and that alarmed Jack even more.
There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. What had she not told him?
Val adjusted her thick glasses. ‘We didn’t drop her into France by parachute, so there was no possibility of equipping her with a radio set.’
Jack returned Val’s stare cooly, drawing on all his years of experience. ‘That sounds like a suicide mission.’
