Chapter 30
B aker Street, London
Jack sat in his office, trying to focus on the task at hand and not think about Lizzie, but it was useless.
Her sweet face loomed in his mind, and he hadn’t slept properly since he had returned from Scotland and learnt she was gone.
The same feeling of dread gripped his stomach continuously, whether he was at home or in the office.
He couldn’t find any peace in work, which was how he usually fought off his demons, and when he visited his mother for tea the previous day, she quizzed him about his brother’s fiancée, Hannah, which only made things worse.
He recruited Hannah before the war, and she was now in the Resistance with the Lavender Network in Vichy France. Nothing had come through from her for weeks, and even if it had, he couldn’t tell his mother operational secrets.
Jack had left his mother’s house feeling like he’d let her down.
As the eldest son, he saw it as his role to cheer her, and even more so now his brother was away with the RAF.
His mother had struggled since their father had died suddenly when he and Henry were boys.
Being the person who needed cheering didn’t sit well with Jack, and he grew more frustrated.
Action was his natural modus operandi, and being stuck behind a desk in London, helpless whilst Lizzie was in France trying to outsmart the damn Boche, was driving him slowly insane.
Jack shuffled the pages of the latest report on the progress of their agents in France, which made for a gloomy read.
There was a sharp tap on the door, and Stella, the tea lady, poked her head into the room.
Grateful for the distraction, he waved her in with a big smile.
They chatted about the glorious spring weather, and he asked if her family were well.
Jack was one of Stella’s favourites, and she always kept the best biscuits for him. After she poured him a piping hot mug of tea and passed him the biscuits, she paused. ‘I hope it’s not out of order for me to ask, but I haven’t seen Lizzie in a while. She’s not unwell, is she?’
The question was like a knife twisting in his chest.
Unwell? He hoped not, but he had no way of knowing. Visions of her lying in a ditch or locked up in a Nazi prison rolled into his mind even as he tried to shut them out.
Jack forced a smile and spoke in an upbeat tone. ‘That’s kind of you to ask. She was transferred temporarily to one of our other offices. She will return when the work is complete.’
Alone again in his office, he lit a cigarette.
She would return. He couldn’t allow himself to indulge in any other outcome or he would go quite mad.
Circles of smoke shimmered over his head, and he visualised the day when Lizzie would come home.
Being her commanding officer was getting more difficult with every mission.
Could he trust himself to make the right decision where she was concerned?
He feared he had lost all perspective, and what he yearned to do was parachute into a field near St. Malo and bring her home.
Clearly, he had lost all perspective, but short of telling Val and the big boss about their relationship, he didn’t see what he could do.
Besides, they would have her report to someone else, and then they’d be even worse off.
No one else would fight for her like he did, so how could that be in her best interests?
There were plenty of missing and dead agents.
Jack inhaled deeply; the tobacco hit, calming his agitated nerves for a blissful few seconds.
No, he would keep quiet. It wasn’t fair to tell them without Lizzie’s approval, but even if it were, his gut told him it would be the wrong thing to do.
He would continue to fight for Lizzie with the same dedication he applied to achieve the highest outcome for all his agents.
Just because he couldn’t sleep for worrying about her, didn’t mean she should be singled out and thrown to the wolves to show she didn’t get special treatment.
Not for the first time, he warned himself to get a grip. Whilst he was in London and Lizzie in enemy territory, he must stay alert, ready for whatever action might be required.
If he had a say, the minute they suspected something had gone wrong with the reconnaissance mission, he would be on the first plane into occupied France.
Later that morning, still weary and irritable, he made his way to a meeting with Val in her office. Lizzie’s desk was laden with papers, her chair empty, and his heart lurched with the stark reminder of her absence.
‘Have you heard any more from Seagrove?’ Val asked after they’d discussed other operations.
‘Not a peep,’ he said.
‘I imagine she’s trying to find a safer location to transmit from. It can’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, Lizzie can.’
Jack sprung to his feet and strode across the room in a few steps to gaze out at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the horizon, a trail of hazy smoke following him.
The cathedral stood proud and strong, like a beacon of hope against the pale blue sky.
It had been hit in the Blitz, but the dome had miraculously escaped serious damage.
St. Paul’s was one of his favourite London landmarks and reminded him of when he and Lizzie returned from a mission.
England had never looked more beautiful as the little plane buffeted through the sky at dawn, and she pointed St. Paul’s out to him.
He stubbed out the cigarette and returned to sit opposite Val.
‘This is a two-agent job,’ he said, his deep voice gravelly from exhaustion.
Val studied him through her large glasses and tutted.
‘I wondered when you’d be singing that tune again.
There’s no cover for you. We sent Lizzie in because she has the perfect cover story with her family.
And you see from her message our plan worked.
’ Her tone brooked no argument, but that didn’t stop him.
‘Yes, but how the hell is she going to get out alone? She’s at the epicentre of their FAK 613 communications.’
Val fired back, ‘That’s why we gave her the crystals. She’ll get out the same way she got out in the past.’ Val stared at Jack; concern etched in the grooves around her mouth. ‘Are you going soft on me, Jack King? Perhaps we should have extended your stay in Scotland.’
Jack grunted and rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I’m not going soft.
But one would have to have no beating heart not to care about our agents who risk their lives to send us morsels of intelligence that may or may not help us win the war but will very likely get them killed, especially if we don’t have their backs. ’
Val sighed. ‘We do have their backs. This conversation is an example of just how much we have their backs. Let’s be honest, patience has never been your strong point, but for the sake of our sanity, you need to develop the fine art of having a tad more.’
Val’s words did nothing to soothe Jack’s dark mood.
‘I would be so much more useful in France than stuck behind my desk here. You know it as well as I do.’
‘No one denies you are effective in the field, but we need you here running operations. You’re our top agent, who understands our work inside and out. Besides, it’s too dangerous for you in St. Malo.’
‘Too dangerous for me but not for Lizzie?’ he said, arching one black eyebrow.
‘You know it’s much safer for women to move around. Men of fighting age stand out like sore thumbs. Besides, you have far too many secrets in that hard head of yours. If they capture you, all our networks will be compromised.’
Val opened a file and spread some papers on her desk. ‘You’re not going into France unless there’s a valid reason for it. Next topic.’