She shivered and put her arms around him. “I know, Harry, I know.”
“Are you frightened?”
“Good God, no.” She smiled up at him. “Not with Gypsy Sara in my corner.”
Eisenhower sat at his desk in the study at Hayes Lodge, reading glasses perched on his nose as he worked his way through the file. He sat back, removed the glasses and looked across at Dougal Munro.
“Quite a man, Martineau. Extraordinary record, and an American.”
“Yes, sir. He told me once that his great-grandmother had immigrated to Virginia in the eighteen-flfties from England. Small town in Lancashire, I believe.”
“It sounds a kind of exotic name for Lancashire.”
“Not unknown, General. I believe it goes back to Norman times.”
He realized that Eisenhower was simply stalling for time while he thought about things. He got up and peered out the window, then turned. “Flight Officer Drayton. She’s very young.”
“I’m aware of that, General. However, she is in a unique position to help us.”
“Of course. You really think this could work?”
“I believe we can put Colonel Martineau and Flight Officer Drayton into France with no trouble. 1 can’t see any problem with their continuing onward to Jersey by boat. Martineau has unique authority. No one would dare question it. If you want to query the Reichsfuhrer’s personal representative, the only way you can do it is to ring the Reiehsfuhrer himself in Berlin.”
“Yes, 1 see that,” Eisenhower said.
“However, once they’re in Jersey, the game is really wide open. There is no way I can give you any assurance about what happens. We’ll be entirely in Martineau’s hands.” There was silence for a while, and then Munro added, “They should be in Jersey by Thursday. Martineau has until Sunday. That’s his deadline. It’s only a few days.”
“And a hell of a lot of lives depending on it.” Eisenhower sat down behind the desk. “Okay, Brigadier. Carry on and keep me informed at all times.”
Hornley Field had been an aero club before the war. It had also been used as a temporary fighter station during the Battle of Britain. It was now used for clandestine flights to the continent only, mainly Lysanders and the occasional Liberator. The runway was grass, but long enough. There was a tower, several huts and two hangars.
The commanding officer was a Squadron Leader Barnes, an ex-fighter pilot who’d lost his left arm in the summer of 1940. The pilot of the Lysander was a flight lieutenant named Peter Green. Sarah, standing at the window, saw him now, bulky in his flying jacket and helmet, standing by the plane.
It was two-thirty in the morning, but warm enough, the stove roaring away. “Can I offer you some more coffee, Flight Officer?” Barnes asked Sarah.
She turned and smiled. “No thanks. I shouldn’t imagine Westland included a toilet facility in their Lysander.”
He smiled. “No, I’m afraid there wasn’t the room.”
Martineau stood by the stove, hands in the pockets of his leather trenchcoat. He wore the tweed suit and a dark slouch hat and smoked a cigarette. Carter sat by the stove, tapping his stick restlessly on the floor.
“We’re really going to have to get moving, I’m afraid,” Barnes said. “Just the right conditions at the other end if you go now. Too light if we wait.”
“I can’t imagine what’s happened to the brigadier,” Carter said.
“It doesn’t matter.” Martineau turned to Sarah. “Ready to go?”
She nodded and very carefully pulled on her fashionable leather gloves. She was wearing a black coat over her dress, nipped in at the waist with large shoulders, all very fashionable.
Barnes put a very large fur-lined flying jacket over her shoulders. “It might be cold up there.”
“Thank you.”
Martineau picked up their two suitcases and they went out and crossed to the Lysander where Green waited. “Any problems?” Martineau asked.
“Coastal fog, but only in patches. Slight headwind.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll be there by four-thirty at the outside.”
Sarah went first and strapped herself in. Martineau passed up the suitcases then turned and shook hands with Carter. “See you soon, Jack.”
“YouVe got the call sign,” Carter said. “All Cresson has to do is send that. No message needed. We’ll have a Lysander out to the same field at ten o’clock at night of the same day to pick you up.”