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her to Leed’s for late tea the day before she had climbed aboard a moon plane, strapped to a parachute. She had just had her teeth cleaned, and she was all smiles ...
    Hamilton had waved her good-bye.
    The room was quiet for a moment.
    â€œI see it this way,” said the Commander, returned to business. “As you have correctly observed, Seymour, Valerie Sinclair is a queer fish. After two years on ice, she may not be too happy with us. Whatever she expected the first time, I can assure you that it wasn’t Gilbert and the Ferry Pilots, even though we kept our part of the bargain.”
    â€œYes, sir. You may be right. I seriously question if Valerie Sinclair would agree to anything at this point, unless she thought there was something in it for her.”
    â€œExactly. She’ll accept the commission of course, because there’s no way around it. However, one never really knows, does one? We don’t want any surprises. Should she see it as already decided, and herself merely as a pawn, we could find ourselves with a problem.”
    â€œTrouble we don’t need,” said Seymour.
    Hamilton was covering the bases. The mission had already started. It was too late for a replacement.
    The Lieutenant looked worried.
    â€œRelax, Seymour. Fish never bite on a northeast wind. She will set the hook herself, once she hears we’re throwing in a partner.”
    â€œThe French agent, sir?”
    â€œSinclair’s a woman , Seymour.”
    â€œYes, sir, I know that. But she is a bit off the wall, sir.”
    â€œPrecisely, Seymour. Well put. But you see, it’s the very nature of this candidate, exactly those differences, that can even the odds.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œHer photographic memory, Seymour. Have you forgotten? Carrington’s told me it’s as though she lives inside of it, like a skin. Whatever it is, it appears to be something more than just simple memorization. We really don’t know how it works, but it does look as though it may point to some other personality—which is exactly where we intend to take her.” Hamilton tossed him the lighter. “Her cover, I would think, could be our best chance yet for a real shot.” Sinclair’s new name, not yet released, would be assigned by the Free French once her acceptability had been determined.
    â€œSpeaking of that, sir,” the Lieutenant clicked the lighter, disappearing behind blue smoke, “she knows the area around Brest from spending holidays there with school friends.”
    â€œVery good, Seymour.” He retrieved his lighter. “I keep thinking,” Hamilton confessed, “about that stolen car.” Could the Lieutenant have missed something? “Any prior record of her having used a gun?”
    â€œYes, sir. Her husband taught her, before Dunkirk. Since they lived in Dorset, considered the likely place for a Jerry invasion, he made sure she knew how to handle it.”
    â€œIs that her own story, Seymour? Did you check?”
    â€œChecked,” the Lieutenant said. “We ran it through Scotland Yard. She’s clean. Several other things, some hearsay we got from her father, was that she’d beaten up some boys who had challenged her, and that she’d run away from home—”
    â€œBecause of the boys?”
    â€œNo, sir, because of her father. Some years ago, it seems, his parishioners presented him with a church car. A Morris, I believe. He refused to let her drive it.”
    â€œDid she know how?”
    â€œApparently she did, sir.”
    â€œI see. Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” Hamilton might have plans for the father. “Let’s get back to the guns. Do you think then, given a few hours, she could master regulation side arms?”
    â€œDefinitely. But you see, sir, the problem—”
    â€œWhat is it, Seymour?”
    â€œWell, sir, she’s had very little practical