Page 44 of Tides of Resistance
Her hands shook slightly as she fixed the radio with a crystal in the way she had practiced at Bletchley Park. Without the crystals, it would have been a suicide mission even to attempt to send one message from the house. The German military would roll up outside within minutes.
Lizzie tapped out a short, coded security message on the telegraph key with a metallic click, confirming her identity. Then she gazed out the window as she waited for a response to give her the go-ahead. The minutes ticked by, but nothing came through. An old toy toppled off the dusty table, and the sound pierced the silent attic. Lizzie jumped and her fingers closed over the small knife she had concealed in the waistband of her skirt before leaving for the cathedral.
Then Minou revealed herself, landing at Lizzie’s feet, and relief spiralled through her as she bent to stroke the cat. Just at that second, the radio burst to life with a series of short and long buzzing and beeping sounds. The noise seemed so loud in the silent house, Lizzie wondered if the neighbours could hear it.
London had received her message. Thank goodness it wasn’t like the early days, and now they had a cipher room at Baker Street.
This is Raven. Thank God. Go ahead, Seagrove.
Lizzie smiled as she deciphered Jack’s words and pictured him, his black hair flopping over his forehead and his lips curving into a smile.
She tapped out her message using the coded system.
Contact confirmed compromised.Photographs in possession. Have way to get detailed plans too.Will message again when establish safe location.
Jack signed off, telling her to be careful and wishing her good luck.
Lizzie longed to tell him she loved him, but the transmission was too critical to the mission. Jack would report to Val, and there was a chance she would read the decryption, so it was a risk she couldn’t take.
CHAPTER 26
The door swung open, and an imposing blond German officer in an immaculately pressed grey-green uniform filled the doorway, pausing to study the room before entering. The atmosphere instantly changed, and the fear was palpable. His broad shoulders and tapered waist gave him the air of an athletic warrior.
Lizzie clamped her mouth shut when she recognised the SS officer. He stepped forward to address the room, his bearing proud and regal, his eyes taking in the group of local surveyors and other professionals they had commissioned to work on the Atlantic Wall construction. Gradually his grey-blue eyes came to rest on Lizzie, and he raised one eyebrow, his handsome face registering surprise.
‘Mademoiselle, what a coincidence. We met in the bookshop, did we not? I understood you had come from Paris to recuperate by the sea, or am I mistaken?’
Charles fielded the question like an expert batter. ‘Mademoiselle Rousseau is a friend of the family and is staying with us. She is here today at my request to take notes because my assistant couldn’t make it.’
It was as though Lizzie’s pulse points all beat at an uncontrollable pace simultaneously. The material of her dress stuck to her back, and suddenly there was no air in the room.
So, this was Heinrich Adler, the SS officer her uncle had mentioned. Thecharming tyrantin charge of Civil Administration in St. Malo. Lizzie thought of poor Judith Cohen and her family, who were goodness knows where, and now her uncle was working for this monster.
A red-hot rage licked through Lizzie’s veins, and she had to physically stop herself from saying something she would regret. Her hands shook a little, and she wedged them next to her sides to steady herself.
Pasting a polite smile on her face, she said with forced deference, ‘Good morning, Herr Adler. It is an honour to see you again.’
The words tasted like bitter ash in her dry throat, and she had to fight to maintain a pleasant expression. The explanation seemed to appease the officer, and Lizzie released a ragged breath as she watched him turn his attention away from her.
The SS officer indicated they should sit on the wooden chairs, and the meeting commenced. Heinrich outlined what he needed from the group in the initial stages of what he called the coastal defence programme.
The German officer spoke excellent French. His accent portrayed culture and confidence, and his deep voice was hypnotic. There was a sketch of the harbour and port areas on the board that he pointed to intermittently, explaining which terrain to measure and which features were key to the construction.
Every now and then his cold eyes fell on Lizzie, and she got the uncomfortable feeling, just like in the bookshop, that he was interested in her. She hoped it was merely the casual interesta man might show in a woman who caught his eye, and not something of a more suspicious nature.
Lizzie copied the images roughly onto her pad, but drawing wasn’t a skill she possessed, and she wished she could capture it all with her mini camera.
Making notes, she tried to memorise the finer points. It wouldn’t do to jot anything down that a surveyor wouldn’t naturally need, especially when she was already under the spotlight as a newcomer from Paris.
Lizzie imagined what Jack would say if he could see her now, in a private meeting with the head of the Atlantic Wall strategy at the heart of Nazi-occupied St. Malo. What would her commanding officer and secret lover advise her to do? A smile crept over her lips as she imagined him taking one look at Heinrich and telling her to get what she could and then get the hell out of there back to London.
No, it would be more useful to think about what her dear friend, Hannah, would do in this situation. The Berlin-born Jewish Resistance agent was fearless and operated on a different level than others. When Lizzie was afraid in situations such as this, she tried to channel what she called herinner Hannah. It was like putting on a suit of armour, and her fear dissipated. It was just a mind game, but she had learnt in her spy training that mind games could make the difference between life and death. If you let fear swallow you whole, the game was over no matter what actions an agent took. It was like pinning a sign on your head, revealing your identity.
The German military could smell fear—Lord knows, they had enough experience of it since they occupied Europe.
Charles glanced at Lizzie when the meeting came to a natural end and Herr Adler bid them good day and left the room. ‘Let’s be on our way. We have lots to do.’
Just as they were packing away their equipment, most of which was not needed, a soldier came back into the room and approached Lizzie.
