Chapter 31
Jack sat down opposite Val. Instead of launching immediately into why he had come, he made small talk and saw Val relax her defences slightly.
There was no point in taking his frustration out on her.
She was as good a boss as he could ever wish for, and he knew she always did what she thought was best for everyone.
Jack drew on his cigarette and asked if he could get her some tea.
Val narrowed her eyes. ‘Buttering me up, are you, Captain?’ she teased.
Jack laughed. ‘Not at all. I could do with a cuppa after my journey and thought you might like one too.’
‘Very well, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll finish what I’m doing and then we can discuss whatever it is you clearly have on your mind.’
Jack went to the canteen, and Stella, the friendly tea lady, served him. ‘Good to see you, sir. It’s been a while. I hope you and your lovely fiancée are keeping well.’
Jack assured her they were fine but busy on different postings.
If anyone in the building had been happy to hear of their engagement, it was Stella, with whom Lizzie had a special bond.
They had sheltered together in the underground station during one of the worst bombing raids of the Blitz, and Stella always asked after Lizzie.
Jack walked back to Val’s office with a tray of tea and biscuits.
Val was a good sort, and she responded better to charm than to sulking.
There was no doubt a good reason she didn’t want to send him to check on The Lavender Network, and she would tell him what it was.
The greater the responsibility, the bigger the picture, and Val would know more than he about what was happening in Toulouse, even if she didn’t say she did.
That a woman of her operational authority held a lower rank than his was a strange irony.
The senior intelligence officer who took care of her French Section agents, or F Section, as though they were her own family, was a woman of mystery.
Jack still knew barely anything about her background, other than she had started in Military Intelligence as a secretary long before the war, and that was how she came to recruit him at Oxford University.
In the early days, he had asked her how she came to work there, intrigued at having a woman for a boss, but she had told him in her good-humoured way that it was she who asked the questions, not he.
Val had been there for his graduation, and it was she who offered him a career in Military Intelligence, after he acted as her unofficial eyes and ears on the ground in his years at Oxford.
She’d seen the potential in him from the very beginning, and he trusted her with his life.
They sipped their tea and crunched on the biscuits for a few moments before Val fixed her gaze on him. ‘Alright, out with it, King.’
Jack ran his fingers through his dark, floppy hair. ‘Any word on Hannah yet?’
Val shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. There’s chatter on various channels, though.’
Jack sucked in his breath, his chest tightening. ‘Oh yes. Saying what?’
‘Young men are evading compulsory labour and joining the ranks of the Maquis in the south. The Milice, the newly formed branch of the French police, is hunting them down.’
‘I see,’ Jack said. He knew about the ruling Vichy France had pushed through only months before German troops occupied the south the previous year.
He and Val had hoped it had been relegated once the Vichy regime lost what power it had before the full occupation.
‘Is Lev a likely target for labour enforcement?’
Val finished her tea before setting her mug down. ‘I’d say he’s more of a target if they discover he’s Jewish. They seem to be rounding up men in their early twenties, so he may be safe in that respect, for now at least.’
‘Same for Hannah and the other Jews in the network, then.’
Val said, ‘If anyone can escape the clutches of the Nazis, it’s Hannah and Lev. They have developed into a formidable team.’
Jack nodded. ‘What do you think of The Lavender Network as a whole in this new order of things in the south?
‘The network has been indispensable, punching far above its weight. It is one of the most successful Resistance networks we have in France.’
A heavy silence fell between them as they both contemplated the potential loss of the courageous circuit.
He and Lizzie had helped them form the network after they all worked together in Toulouse a few years previously.
Lev had been a fledgling Resistance fighter, working with a few of his connections, whilst most of his Jewish community made plans to leave when the Vichy regime tightened its anti-Jewish statutes—legislation they introduced independently, without waiting for German orders.
Life in France became more dangerous, even for French-born Jews like Lev.
‘Let me go in. I’ll stay in the background and just confirm they’re safe. If they are in hiding and don’t need me, they don’t even have to know I was there.’
Val rolled her eyes. ‘Always so quick to play the conquering hero.’
Jack tutted. ‘It’s not about that, and you know it. We can’t afford to lose them. Things are just beginning to turn in our favour.’
Val appeared to be considering his summary, which gave him hope, and he pressed on. ‘We contacted bands of the Maquis through Hannah, but we’re under-resourced to supply them. I could do some reconnaissance, so we get a wider picture of what’s going on.’
‘Good try. The reason we’re under-resourced is that our networks are stretched to breaking point. I don’t see how losing you helps us with that.’
‘You won’t lose me. I can be in and out in a couple of days,’ Jack said, lighting another cigarette.
Usually, he didn’t get this far when he raised the subject of his going back into France.
It used to be his hunting ground before the war, but now he only got permission to go in when Val saw no other choice.
And even that had not happened since Lizzie’s St. Malo mission went pear-shaped the previous year.
He was itching to get back into France and feel useful again.
‘Jack, you seem to have a blind spot where your skills are concerned. I know you believe you are more useful in France, and what you do here is somehow not as meaningful. It’s utter hogwash.
No one is saying you have not been a tremendous asset in the field, but you’ve served your time.
And besides, from everything I just told you about French men being specifically targeted for labour deportation, why would we risk sending you in now? ’
Jack’s mood plummeted. He thought he had the upper hand, but as usual Val was two steps ahead of him.
He raised his head and fixed her with a dark stare, not resigned to giving up. ‘That’s not a reasonable excuse. You said they’re targeting younger men, which means I won’t be on their radar, anyway.’
Jack watched Val stand and cross to the window, where she gazed out at the dome of St. Paul’s on the horizon, lit softly by the pale sun. Jack sensed she was losing patience and his private audience with her was about to end.
‘You know as well as I do, all men of conscription age are liable to be arrested, and the risk is even greater now the Nazis are occupying the south. Not to mention your cover was blown last time you operated in Toulouse!’
Jack bit back a curse. Most of the time, he was fine being at the helm, behind the scenes in Baker Street, but there were times like this when he experienced a primal urge to feel the camaraderie in the field and be on active duty again.
Val sat back down at her desk and retrieved a file.
‘I take it that’s a no, then,’ he said, his forehead grooved into lines of displeasure.
‘You take it right. You are far too valuable to the operation here. That’ll teach you to be so bloody good at your job.’ Val laughed. ‘Cheer up, and whilst you’re here, fill me in on Bletchley.’
Jack pushed his disappointment aside and gave Val a quick rundown of his suspicions about Gould and broached the subject that perhaps he was compromised.
Val jerked her head up. ‘If that’s true, that would be catastrophic, and only goes to show how much we need you as our eyes on the ground there.’
‘There was something very odd about an intercept in Bern that Lizzie reported to me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it wasn’t quite right.’
‘Keep Gould firmly in your sights and report back to me when you have something concrete,’ Val said.
Jack continued, ‘And from what I’ve discovered so far, the SIS is holding back even more than we feared. If bloody Gould had seen fit to share their intelligence as he should, we’d have been able to get ahead of the Maquis arrests and warn them to lie low.’
‘Good point, although the Maquis are lying low. Well, as low as they can in the hills … Most of them are in hiding from the authorities and only come out for sabotage operations. That’s what Hannah reported when their ranks swelled.’
They discussed Lizzie’s mission progress in Bern.
Val said, ‘Let’s hope the diplomatic pouch turns up sooner rather than later and we can begin compiling the evidence the Prime Minister so desperately needs to pressure the Swiss. It seems they have a lot to answer for.’
Jack left Val in peace, and after checking in with his secretary and spending some time in his office, he walked over to his flat that was just around the corner.
It was strange being there after staying at the pub, and he marvelled at how quickly one grew accustomed to things.
The kitchen cupboards were bare, and Lizzie’s scent lingered in the bedroom, making him ache for her.
That night he fell into a deep sleep but awoke in the dead of night, his heart pounding and his shirt drenched in sweat.
In his dream, Lizzie was in danger in Bern.
Someone was following her. Then the dream morphed into Toulouse, and he watched on helplessly as Hannah and Lev were arrested, pushed into a van and taken straight to the Gestapo.
Jack couldn’t sleep after that and made himself a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette. He reflected on his failure to convince Val that he should go to Toulouse, reconciling himself to his fate. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected her to agree, but he owed it to Hannah to try.
First light leached through the blackout blinds as he sat in bed, propped against Lizzie’s pillow to feel closer to her. London man or not, he hated being in this flat without her.
That morning, he boarded the first train for Bletchley. It had been a brief respite in London, but it was time to get back to his posting. If Gould was playing a double game, he intended to find out before the SIS officer sold them down the river.