way, and fell to snoring again. WoIff rolled over on his back without opening his eyes. Moving slowly, wincing with every movement of the mattress, Elene turned around so that she was’on her hands and knees, facing the head of the bed. She began painfully to crawl backward: right knee, left hand, left knee, right hand. She watched the two sleeping faces. The foot of the bed seemed miles away. The silence rang in her ears like thunder. The houseboat itself rocked from side to side on the wash of a passing barge, and Elene backed off the bed quickly under cover of the disturbance. She stood there, rooted to the spot, watching the other two, until the boat stopped moving. They stayed asleep. Where should the search start? Elene decided to be methodical, and begin at the front and work backward. In the prow of the boat was the bathroom. Suddenly she realized she had to go there anyway. She tiptoed across the bedroom and went into the tiny bathroom. Sitting on the toilet, she looked around. Where might a radio be hidden? She did not really know how big it would be: the size of a suitcase? A briefcase? A handbag? Here there were a basin, a small tub and a cupboard on the wall. She stood up and opened the cupboard. It contained shaving gear, pills and a small roll of bandage. The radio was not in the bathroom. She did not have the courage to search the bedroom while they slept, not yet. She crossed it and passed through the curtains into the living room. She looked quickly all around. She felt the need to hurry, and forced herself to be calm and careful. She began on the starboard side. Here there was a divan couch. She tapped its base gently: it seemed hollow. The radio might be underneath. She tried to lift it, and could not Looking around its edge, she saw that it was screwed to the floor. The screws were tight. The radio would not be there. Next there was a tall cupboard. She opened it gently. It squeaked a little, and she froze. She heard a grunt from the bedroom. She waited for Wolff to come bounding through the curtains and catch her red-handed. Nothing happened. She looked in the cupboard. There was a broom, and some dusters, and cleaning materials, and a flashlight. No radio. She closed the door. It squeaked again. THE KEY TO REBECCA 271
She moved into the kitchen area. She had to open six smaller cupboards. They contained crockery, tinned food, saucepans, glasses, supplies of coffee and rice and tea, and towels. Under the sink there was a bucket for kitchen waste. Elene looked in the icebox. It contained one bottle of champagne. There were several drawers. Would the radio be small enough to fit in a drawer? She opened one. The rattle of cutlery shredded her nerves. No radio. Another: a massive selection of bottled spices and flavorings, from vanilla essence to curry powder-somebody liked to cook. Another drawer: kitchen knives. Next to the kitchen was a small escritoire with a fold-down desk top. Beneath it was a small suitcase. Elene picked up the suitcase. It was heavy. She opened it. There was the radio. Her heart skipped. It was an ordinary, plain suitcase, with two catches, a leather handle and reinforced comers. The radio fitted inside exactly, as if it bad been designed that way. The recessed lid left a little room on top of the radio, and here there was a book. Its board covers had been torn off to make it fit into the space in the lid. Elene picked up the book and looked inside. She read: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” It was Rebecca. She flicked the pages of the book. In the middle there was something between the pages. She let the book fall open and a sheet of paper dropped to the floor. She bent down and picked it up. It was a list of numbers and dates, with some words in German. This was surely the key to the code. She held in her hand what Vandarn needed to turn the tide of the war. Suddenly the responsibility weighed her down. Without this, she thought, Wolff cannot send messages to Rommel-or if he sends messages in plain language the Germans will suspect their authenticity and also worry that the Allies have overheard them . . . Without this, Wolff is useless. With this, Vandarn can win the war. She had to run away, now, taking the key with her. She remembered that she was stark naked. She broke out of her trance. Her dress was on the couch, crumpled and wrinkled. She crossed the boat, put down the 272 Ken Follett