Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
T he position was only for three days to fill in for the permanent secretary. Lizzie wore a skirt and blouse and completed the look with her lucky scarf.
When she arrived at the base on the bicycle, a soldier checked her papers and looked her up and down.
Lizzie smiled her most charming smile. The entire operation depended on her being admitted as the replacement secretary. ‘I was told my name would be on the list,’ she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
There was no room for error, and she had to keep her nerve as he ran his finger down the page on his clipboard.
‘Here we are. Marie LeClair. Straight ahead and turn right for the office, mademoiselle,’ he said in broken French before taking one last look at her and waving her through.
Lizzie felt sick. She drew in several deep breaths and calmed herself as she walked towards the office. She’d passed the first check, but now she was going into the lion’s den. There was no turning back .
A middle-aged woman with spectacles stood near a desk as Lizzie entered the small makeshift building.
‘Bonjour. I’m Marie LeClair, the temporary secretary.’
The woman’s lips stretched into a tight smile, and she instructed her to follow her. She explained Herr General would be in later. In the meantime, she had some important documents for her to type.
‘What kind of documents?’ Lizzie asked, glancing around, and taking in the layout of the offices and the view of the airfield and aircraft from the window.
‘Did you go through security clearance?’ the woman asked, squinting.
‘I was evaluated for the job before it was assigned to me,’ Lizzie said, unfaltering. ‘I have my papers here if you want to see them, but the guard already checked them at the entrance.’
‘No, that will do,’ the woman said. ‘The general organises the bombing raids on London that are destroying the enemy from here. Every day there is a list of targets for the pilots to collect before they set off.’
Lizzie could barely believe her luck. Right in the door and she was hearing about the bombing raids. Jack would be amazed.
Lizzie could tell the woman was French by the nuance of her speech and by the way she wore her scarf. German women didn’t dress like this, and besides, the Nazis left their wives at home in Germany.
They drew their local administrative staff from eager collaborators in the countries they occupied. The realisation that this French woman was cooperating so enthusiastically with the enemy turned Lizzie’s stomach. She had to school her face to maintain a pleasant expression and not betray her disgust .
How could French people support this horrific regime? What the Nazis were doing to innocent people was no secret.
‘You can sit here and work,’ the woman said in a surgical tone. ‘You must type each page with no mistakes, or they’ll have your head on a block.’
Lizzie said, ‘These words are German. I was told the job was for a French secretary.’
‘It is, but these need doing urgently, so just copy the German words. You don’t have to understand the meaning. It’s lots of numbers, anyway,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders.
There was a pile of documents on a table and the woman explained what Lizzie had to do. ‘If you need anything or have questions, I’ll be at my desk.’
Lizzie sat down and laid her hands on the pile of papers, her brain turning over at a frantic pace as she tried to figure out the best way to thwart the Luftwaffe’s bombing sorties.
In her preparation sessions with Jack, they hadn’t dared hope for anything as obvious as this. Jack said she would probably type routine documents. The Nazis coordinated their operations with local government offices and the French police. He said that would be why they needed French secretaries. ‘If there’s one thing the Germans pride themselves on, it is accurate record keeping.’
It was an ingenious system. Rather than doing the work to keep occupied territories in order themselves, they let the locals do their bidding. Those who didn’t like it would risk a bullet to the head. Lizzie sympathised with the people who were too scared to resist. What she couldn’t condone were those like this woman who were overjoyed to do the Nazis' dirty work.
Lizzie flicked through the pages of numbers and tried to make sense of the German words and coordinates. She guessed they must be some type of code for landmarks. The rest were lines of numbers written by hand. If the woman hadn’t mentioned so casually, they were the London bombing targets, she wouldn’t have known.
Three days she had to stick this job out. On the one hand, it seemed like a lifetime. On the other, it was only three days to observe the internal workings of the base so Jack and the Resistance could get in and blow up as many aircraft as possible.
The woman poked her head around the corner. ‘I can’t hear any typing. Herr General will be back soon. I wouldn’t be idle if I were you.’
Lizzie began typing, trying not to think about her head on a block.
London was scrawled at the top of the pages and the keys clattered as she typed. She was no skilled typist and had been practicing on an old typewriter of Camille’s. By the time they realised how poor a typist she was, she would be gone.
Or she would be dead.
But she couldn’t dwell on that.
There were various September dates on the sheets, and when she saw the one dated the following day, a chill ran through her.
If she didn’t tamper with it somehow, the bombing and the subsequent deaths of Londoners would be partly her fault. But if she changed them on her first day, and the target was incorrect, they might realise it was her doing before she’d carried out her primary mission.
What was more important? Saving some lives tomorrow or taking out the airfield to save a greater number of lives by paralysing the Luftwaffe’s ability to fly from what had recently become one of their main bases?
There seemed no right choice, and her head swirled as she tried to reason what would be best. What would Val do? What would Jack do ?
She was on her own and must decide for herself. With that, she typed up the first list with the correct details.
On the list for the following day, she transposed some of the numbers. If she was discovered, she could claim it was an honest typing error. The real problem was she didn’t understand what the coordinates and codes meant.
Around lunch time, she heard voices, and she kept her head down, typing as the sound of heavy boots hit the floor.
Lizzie raised her eyes and saw a tall, formidable looking man in German uniform enter the office.
‘Ah, the replacement secretary,’ he said. ‘Marie LeClair, I believe?’
‘That’s correct, Herr General.’ Lizzie said, standing.
He talked to her in almost perfect French for a few minutes and was charming, which unnerved Lizzie further. It was easier not to think of the Nazis as individual people when they were obnoxious, like the soldier who attacked her.
The general picked up the pile of papers on her desk and leafed through them.
‘I must sign off on these today. How soon can you have them ready for me?’
Not being a typist, Lizzie didn’t know how long it would take her to work through the pile, so she said, ‘As soon as they are ready, I will bring them to you, Herr General.’
He appraised her for a moment and said, ‘Very well. I will be in my office.’
Lizzie turned her attention back to the typewriter. It was hard to concentrate when she was so nervous.
The woman coordinated deliveries and then said she had to go out for a minute. She showed Lizzie into a small backroom where she could make herself a hot drink. ‘Did you bring lunch with you?’
Lizzie nodded. Jack insisted and had made her a sandwich in Camille’s kitchen. ‘Act like a normal secretary. ’
Lizzie’s stomach churned, and she couldn’t face the sandwich. She went into the back room to make a drink and quickly scanned the area. Other staff might arrive later, and the woman who must be the office manager had disappeared.
Whilst the water boiled, Lizzie pushed the door until it was almost closed, but there wasn’t much to see. Then she turned to make her coffee just as she saw the office manager standing at the main entrance.
Lizzie sipped her coffee thoughtfully as she watched the soldier raise the barricade to let her back in. He obviously knew her well, so didn’t check her papers like he did Lizzie’s. The security was basic and seemed to depend solely on the guards. One more armed guard hovered nearby, and she saw they must be taking turns to sit in the hut.
The door creaked open, and the office manager stood in the doorway staring at her. ‘Everything alright, Mademoiselle LeClair? You can take that to your desk whilst you work.’
Lizzie nodded and walked back into the office.
It was early evening by the time she finished typing all the papers and her stomach rumbled, but she was still too on edge to eat her sandwich. Lizzie walked over to the general’s office, who she hadn’t seen all day, and knocked lightly on the door.
‘Enter,’ he called.
‘The papers are ready,’ Lizzie said.
The telephone rang just as she finished speaking and he waved at the desk for her to put them down, and then dismissed her when he picked up the receiver. ‘Yes,’ he barked. ‘This is he.’
Lizzie was about to lay the papers down where he indicated when she jumped at the word, ‘Blitzkrieg.’
She had to know what he was saying, so as she lay the papers down, she shoved one off the desk and it toppled through the air and landed on the floor. The general was absorbed in his conversation, listening with his head to one side. The eagle insignia sparkling on his uniform sent a shiver through Lizzie as she placed the document on the desk.
She couldn’t delay anymore, and he wasn’t speaking. After what seemed a lifetime, he turned and waved her out. As she neared the door, she heard him say something about London, and her pulse raced as she tried to make sense of the German. Being at the heart of their operation was tantalising, but she also remembered Jack’s cautionary instruction.
‘Do not get yourself killed, Seagrove. Use today to find your bearings and get the rhythm of the place, that’s all. Don’t take any chances.’
She slipped out of the room, regretting she couldn’t do more.
‘You can leave for the day now if you’ve finished,’ the office manager called out. ‘Be here at the same time tomorrow morning.’