Madeleine's War Read Online Free PDF Page A

when they are first apprehended—a hand on the shoulder, a gun pointed at you, a door to a room forced open—is what counts. That moment, and the time immediately following it, is crucial…It tells us almost all we need to know about an agent. Who will crumble and give away secrets immediately, and who will hang on for forty-eight hours. Most people crumble immediately—not all, but most. And, as I say, we need people who can hold out for forty-eight hours.”
    I raised my glass to her. “You passed with flying colours. The fact that you spotted a German wristwatch in those circumstances is very impressive.”
    She set the empty whisky glass down on the table between us.
    â€œMay I take it then that I am being invited to join this something?”
    I nodded.
    â€œAnd what, exactly,
is
this club? What’s it called?”
    â€œYou can’t know that until you’ve agreed to join and signed the Official Secrets Act. But I can tell you that you’ll be given the nominal rank of captain.”
    â€œAnd you are…?”
    â€œI’m a colonel, but we are informal—relaxed—about rank in the special services. We don’t go in for stripes and badges on our arms. With us it’s cunning that counts.”
    She warmed her hands at the fire. “And if I refuse?”
    â€œYou’ll be sent back to FANY. We’ll put it about that there’s something odd about you, something fishy, that you failed the test you’ve just passed. You won’t get any more war work, I can assure you of that.”
    She leaned forward, pressed her lips together.
    â€œBut you’ve been through all the tests. We haven’t read anybody wrong yet. I’d offer a hundred to one that you won’t say no.”
    â€œFifty-fifty,” she said softly. “Those are the odds of survival?”
    I nodded. “And of being captured.”
    â€œYou survived.”
    â€œMost of me. I lost a lung.”
    â€œHow exactly?”
    â€œNot tonight. It’s getting on for three o’clock. Over another whisky, perhaps. It’s time for your answer. I need an answer now. If it’s no, you’ll be sent away from here while it’s still dark, in a closed van. You will never know, exactly, where this place is and you won’t be able to find it—or us—again.
    â€œIn the field—if you decide to go—you’ll have to get used to making swift decisions. In France it will always be late, usually somewhere remote, and there’ll be no fire and probably no alcohol, but you’ll always have to make up your mind in a flash. If you can’t give me an answer this instant, you are no use to me.”
    She sat upright in her chair.
    â€œI wish the odds were better. But how else will I ever find out how you lost your lung?”

· 3 ·
    THERE WERE SIX OF US in the rail yard. Red brick buildings huddled off to one side, their slate roofs glistening in the drizzle. A disused mine lay at the end of the rails, its entrance overgrown with weeds and barred by rusting sheets of corrugated iron. This had been a busy acreage when the mine was open, and the one line that led away to civilization, and the rest of the rail network, beyond the low heather-covered mountains in the distance, split here into five or six subsidiary dead-end sidings. Old freight wagons had been shunted on to these branches and forgotten.
    Weeds straggled between the ballast and the sleepers but the rails themselves were shiny steel rods. Invermore Siding had a new lease of life, at least for now. It was a secret part of the war effort.
    I stood in front of a flatbed truck. Beside me stood my assistant, Duncan Kennaway. He was small, with fair hair, a deeply cleft chin, and a ruddy complexion that matched the weave of his tweeds. The four recruits—Ivan Wilde, Erich Langres, Katrine Howard, and Madeleine—were wrapped up against the weather—it was icy as