overt side for a clandestine job. Not that we have a clandestine side any more.’
‘Shall we let our masters be the judges of that?’ Leclerc suggested demurely. ‘At least you’ll agree the Ministry is pressing us daily for results.’ He turned to those on either side of him, now to the left, now to the right, bringing them in like shareholders. ‘It is time you all knew the details. We are dealing with something of exceptional security classification, you understand. I propose to limit to Heads of Sections. So far, only Adrian Haldane and one or two of his staff in Research have been initiated. And John Avery as my aide. I wish to emphasize that our sister service knows nothing whatever about it. Now about our own arrangements. The operation has the codeword Mayfly.’ He was speaking in his clipped, effective voice. ‘There is one action file, which will be returned to me personally, or to Carol if I am out, at the end of each day; and there is a library copy. That is the system we used in the war for operational files and I think you are all familiar with it. It’s the system we shall use henceforth. I shall add Carol’s name to the subscription list.’
Woodford pointed at Avery with his pipe, shaking his head. Not young John there; John was not familiar with the system. Sandford, sitting beside Avery, explained. The library copy was kept in the cypher-room. It was against regulations to take it away. All new serials were to be entered on it as soon as they were made; the subscription list was the list of persons authorised to read it. No pins were allowed; all the papers had to be fast. The others looked on complacently.
Sandford was Administration; he was a fatherly man in gold-rimmed spectacles and came to the office on a motorbike. Leclerc had objected once, on no particular grounds, and now he parked it down the road opposite the hospital.
‘Now, about the operation,’ Leclerc said. The thin line of his joined hands bisected his bright face. Only Haldane was not watching him; his eyes were turned away towards the window. Outside, the rain was falling gently against the buildings like Spring rain in a dark valley.
Abruptly Leclerc rose and went to a map of Europe on the wall. There were small flags pinned to it. Stretching upwards with his arm, riding on his toes to reach the northern hemisphere, he said, ‘We’re having a spot of trouble with the Germans.’ A little laugh went up. ‘In the area south of Rostock; a place called Kalkstadt, just here.’ His finger traced the Baltic coastline of Schleswig-Holstein, moved east and stopped an inch or two south of Rostock.
‘To put it in a nutshell, we have three indicators which suggest – I cannot say prove – that something big is going on there in the way of military installations.’
He swung round to face them. He would remain at the map and say it all from there, to show he had the facts in his memory and didn’t need the papers on the table.
‘The first indicator came exactly a month ago when we received a report from our representative in Hamburg, Jimmy Gorton.’
Woodford smiled: good God, was old Jimmy still going?
‘An East German refugee crossed the border near Lübeck, swam the river; a railwayman from Kalkstadt. He went to our Consulate and offered to sell them information about a new rocket site near Rostock. I need hardly tell you the Consulate threw him out. Since the Foreign Office will not even give us the facilities of its bag service it is unlikely’ – a thin smile – ‘that they will assist us by buying military information.’ A nice murmur greeted this joke. ‘However, by a stroke of luck Gorton got to hear of the man and went to Flensburg to see him.’
Woodford would not let this pass. Flensburg? Was not that the place where they had located German submarines in ’forty-one? Flensburg had been a hell of a show.
Leclerc nodded at Woodford indulgently, as if he too had been amused by the recollection. ‘The
‘Shall we let our masters be the judges of that?’ Leclerc suggested demurely. ‘At least you’ll agree the Ministry is pressing us daily for results.’ He turned to those on either side of him, now to the left, now to the right, bringing them in like shareholders. ‘It is time you all knew the details. We are dealing with something of exceptional security classification, you understand. I propose to limit to Heads of Sections. So far, only Adrian Haldane and one or two of his staff in Research have been initiated. And John Avery as my aide. I wish to emphasize that our sister service knows nothing whatever about it. Now about our own arrangements. The operation has the codeword Mayfly.’ He was speaking in his clipped, effective voice. ‘There is one action file, which will be returned to me personally, or to Carol if I am out, at the end of each day; and there is a library copy. That is the system we used in the war for operational files and I think you are all familiar with it. It’s the system we shall use henceforth. I shall add Carol’s name to the subscription list.’
Woodford pointed at Avery with his pipe, shaking his head. Not young John there; John was not familiar with the system. Sandford, sitting beside Avery, explained. The library copy was kept in the cypher-room. It was against regulations to take it away. All new serials were to be entered on it as soon as they were made; the subscription list was the list of persons authorised to read it. No pins were allowed; all the papers had to be fast. The others looked on complacently.
Sandford was Administration; he was a fatherly man in gold-rimmed spectacles and came to the office on a motorbike. Leclerc had objected once, on no particular grounds, and now he parked it down the road opposite the hospital.
‘Now, about the operation,’ Leclerc said. The thin line of his joined hands bisected his bright face. Only Haldane was not watching him; his eyes were turned away towards the window. Outside, the rain was falling gently against the buildings like Spring rain in a dark valley.
Abruptly Leclerc rose and went to a map of Europe on the wall. There were small flags pinned to it. Stretching upwards with his arm, riding on his toes to reach the northern hemisphere, he said, ‘We’re having a spot of trouble with the Germans.’ A little laugh went up. ‘In the area south of Rostock; a place called Kalkstadt, just here.’ His finger traced the Baltic coastline of Schleswig-Holstein, moved east and stopped an inch or two south of Rostock.
‘To put it in a nutshell, we have three indicators which suggest – I cannot say prove – that something big is going on there in the way of military installations.’
He swung round to face them. He would remain at the map and say it all from there, to show he had the facts in his memory and didn’t need the papers on the table.
‘The first indicator came exactly a month ago when we received a report from our representative in Hamburg, Jimmy Gorton.’
Woodford smiled: good God, was old Jimmy still going?
‘An East German refugee crossed the border near Lübeck, swam the river; a railwayman from Kalkstadt. He went to our Consulate and offered to sell them information about a new rocket site near Rostock. I need hardly tell you the Consulate threw him out. Since the Foreign Office will not even give us the facilities of its bag service it is unlikely’ – a thin smile – ‘that they will assist us by buying military information.’ A nice murmur greeted this joke. ‘However, by a stroke of luck Gorton got to hear of the man and went to Flensburg to see him.’
Woodford would not let this pass. Flensburg? Was not that the place where they had located German submarines in ’forty-one? Flensburg had been a hell of a show.
Leclerc nodded at Woodford indulgently, as if he too had been amused by the recollection. ‘The
Similar Books
