Chapter 12
Jack awoke in his unfamiliar room at The Eight Bells Hotel, and for a few seconds he wondered where he was.
His first night in his new lodgings had been comfortable, thanks to the landlady who lit the coal fire, so that by the time he came to bed his room was cosy.
He’d been dog-tired and fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Breakfast in the dining room was a modest but satisfactory affair of porridge and a slice of toast. When Jack finished eating and drained his tea, the friendly landlady asked him if he’d like more.
‘It’s freezing hard out there this morning, so I wouldn’t blame you if you lingered before venturing out.
I can grab the paper for you, if you’d like? ’
Jack thanked the landlady but excused himself, saying he was in a hurry to leave for work.
Curiosity sparked in her eyes. ‘My husband said you’ve come to work at the Park?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I must be off now,’ he said, rising swiftly.
‘Will you require supper?’ she asked, following his cue and switching topics. The locals knew not to ask too many questions about the mysterious comings and goings in the village.
‘No, thank you. I won’t be back until late.’
When he returned to his room to collect his coat and briefcase, the transformation from night to day was complete, and he gazed out at the crisp frost coating the fields. A rook cut across the slate-grey sky, flapping its wings, and a cat performed its leisurely morning grooming in the yard.
He exited the hotel onto Buckingham Road and extracted a cigarette, cupping his hand to light up.
He hunched deeper into his overcoat and set out at a fast pace.
Cottages dotted the route, and he alternated between the icy road and the frosty verges, treading with caution as he went.
It wasn’t long before he saw the park lodge gates ahead, and as he approached, he produced his pass and showed it to the guard, who greeted him with a friendly good morning and waved him through.
He passed through the avenue of bare elm trees, and the mansion came into view.
Its chimneys still chugged out smoke from the night shift, and his shoes crunched on the ground as he reached the cluster of huts.
It wasn’t eight yet, but the area hummed with activity, the workers coming and going, and he guessed some had done the night shift and were leaving to get some sleep.
‘Good morning,’ he said as a weary-looking young man passed him on his way in.
Some huts were in upheaval and were being transferred to new brick blocks nearer the mansion, but his hut was as it had been the previous day.
It was even colder at this hour, and he elected to keep his coat on again when his breath misted in the freezing atmosphere.
Working at Baker Street offered lavish conditions compared to this, and for a minute he regretted coming, but he reminded himself he had an important job to do.
Two important jobs to do, in fact, and he didn’t trust anyone else with either of them.
Lizzie teased him, saying he could be a hard taskmaster and preferred to do everything himself.
She wasn’t wrong, and Val insinuated the same when she told him to trust Lizzie in the field, and not rush to rescue her.
Lizzie. He had received no updates from Bern since the initial message from the SOE agent confirming her arrival, and now he tried to imagine what she might be doing.
Already at her desk, translating documents, knowing her.
She wasn’t one to dilly dally, when there was work to be done, and with that, he brought himself back to the task at hand.
There was no time to waste as he needed to prepare the next drop for his traitor, but where should he start?
It was difficult operating with all the unknowns of a new organisation, with no one to trust and little inside knowledge.
Just as he was turning over this conundrum in his mind, he saw a pair of petite brown shoes enter his line of vision.
‘Rosie Fletcher, sir. I have orders to report for duty to assist you in handling your correspondence and incoming traffic.’
Jack lifted his dark eyes to meet the Wren’s.
She was the one he’d seen in the hut yesterday who had been preoccupied with indexing.
‘Wonderful! Your timing is impeccable, Fletcher. I was just wondering how the bloody hell I was going to get to grips with the task I’m here to tackle, and here you are like an answer to my prayers. ’
Jack told her what he needed, and she hurried off to collate the Eastern Front operational material he requested.
After she left, he retrieved the top-secret documents Baker Street had sent ahead by a military courier to the secure registry at Bletchley.
Once he had signed them out, he returned to the hut with them in his briefcase, knowing he couldn’t let them out of his sight.
The number of staff at the park had grown to such a degree that he wouldn’t for one minute take it for granted that everyone could be trusted.
Treachery was an inevitable part of operating in the intelligence field, and he would trust no one until they proved themselves trustworthy.
It was going to be a long day, so he located his enamel mug and went in search of tea in the nearby hut, his briefcase in one hand. The thought of what he might discover in the Eastern Front material excited him, and he waited for Fletcher to return so he could get stuck in.