Leclerc had been tireless, now at the Ministry to report on progress, now at the Treasury to argue the case for Taylor’s widow, now, with Woodford’s aid, engaging former instructors in wireless transmission, photography and unarmed combat.
Such time as remained to Leclerc he devoted to Mayfly Zero: the moment at which Leiser was to be infiltrated into eastern Germany. At first he seemed to have no firm idea of how this was to be done. He talked vaguely of a sea operation from Denmark; small fishing craft and a rubber dinghy to evade radar detection. He discussed illegal frontier crossing with Sandford and telegraphed Gorton for information on the border area round Lubeck. In veiled terms he even consulted the Circus. Control was remarkably helpful.
All this took place in that atmosphere of heightened activity and optimism which Avery had observed on his return. Even those who were kept, supposedly, in ignorance of the operation were infected by the air of crisis. The little lunch group that gathered at a corner table of the Cadena cafe was alive with rumors and speculation. It was said, for instance, that a man named Johnson, known in the war as Jack Johnson, a wireless instructor, had been taken on to the strength of the Department. Accounts had paid him subsistence and—most intriguing of all—they had been asked to draft a three-month contract for submission to the Treasury. Who ever heard, they asked, of a three-month contract? Johnson had been concerned with the French drops during the war; a senior girl remembered him. Berry, the cipher clerk, had asked Mr. Woodford what Johnson was up to (Berry was always the cheeky one) and Mr. Woodford had grinned and told him to mind his own business, but it was for an operation, he’d said, a very secret one they were running in Europe… Northern Europe, as a matter of fact, and it might interest Berry to know that poor Taylor had not died in vain.
There was now a ceaseless traffic of cars and Ministry messengers in the front drive; Pine requested and received from another Government establishment a junior whom he treated with sovereign brutality. In some oblique way he had learned that Germany was the target, and the knowledge made him diligent.
It was even rumored among the local tradesmen that the Ministry House was changing hands; private buyers were named and great hopes placed upon their custom. Meals were sent for at all hours, lights burned day and night; the front door, hitherto permanently sealed for reasons of security, was opened; and the sight of Leclerc with bowler hat and briefcase entering his black Humber became a familiar one in Blackfriars Road.
And Avery, like an injured man who would not look at his own wound, slept within the walls of his little office, so that they became the boundary of his life. Once he sent Carol out to buy Anthony a present. She came back with a toy milk lorry with plastic bottles. You could lift the caps off and fill the bottles with water. They tried it out one evening, then sent it round to Battersea in the Humber.
When all was ready, Haldane and Avery traveled to Oxford first class on a Ministry Warrant. At dinner on the train they had a table to themselves. Haldane ordered half a bottle of wine and drank it while he completed the Times crossword. They sat in silence, Haldane occupied, Avery too diffident to interrupt him.
Suddenly Avery noticed Haldane’s tie; before he had time to think, he said, “Good Lord, I never knew you were a cricketer.”
“Did you expect me to tell you?” Haldane snapped. “I could hardly wear it in the Office.”
“I’m sorry.”
Haldane looked at him closely. “You shouldn’t apologize so much,” he observed. “You both do it.” He helped himself to some coffee and ordered a brandy. Waiters noticed Haldane.
“Both?”
“You and Leiser. He does it by implication.”
“It’s going to be different with Leiser, isn’t it?” Avery said quickly. “Leiser’s a professional.”
“Leiser is not one of us. Never make that mistake. We touched him long ago, that’s all.”
“What’s he like? What sort of man is he?”