Yardley grunted. “He may have you demoted.”
“Aye, but he willnae have me removed.”
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t. We’ll have the DNI praise your work and say they placed pressure on you to act quickly.”
“Thank you.” Lachlan would lose the goodwill he’d built with Commander Blake over the past year, but the command itself would be held blameless.
Cilla leaned forward. “If you take the blame, how can we raise suspicions of sabotage?”
Clever lass, and Lachlan smiled. “The Admiralty cannae mention testing enemy explosives. They’ll issue a feeble statement about blowing up a blockship. That’ll raise the logical question of why? Why waste explosives and endanger the men who planted them, all to remove a wreck that’s no bother at all?”
Yardley chuckled. “They’ll blame a lieutenant, acting alone.”
“Oh.” Cilla’s eyes rounded. “It’ll sound as if they’re covering up, hiding something.”
“If the local press doesn’t raise the question of sabotage, we’ll plant an MI5 officer in Kirkwall to ask leading questions.” Yardley poked the table with his finger. “All we need is one newspaper article suggesting sabotage. Cilla will tell the Abwehr the Admiralty knows it’s sabotage but is covering up. ‘Samson’ can tell her this.”
Lachlan passed his notes to Yardley. “I want a promise that we willnae implicate Free Caledonia. I cannae abide innocent men going to prison.”
Yardley strolled behind Cilla’s chair, studying the notes. “Cilla will give Free Caledonia credit for the sabotage in hermessages to the Abwehr, but we won’t implicate them here in Britain. Have you figured out how to transport Fergus and his friends to Scapa?”
“I have an idea,” Cilla said. “A fishing boat.”
“I had the same idea.” Lachlan gave her an appreciative nod. “Every day at Scapa, we open the booms to let the Orcadian fishermen in and out.”
“I’ve already given Fergus two fishermen friends in Free Caledonia.” Cilla wore a satisfied smile. “I’ve mentioned them for months, so it won’t look coincidental. I’ll give one of them a fisherman cousin in Orkney.”
“Aye.” Lachlan guided his pointer fingers together. “They can meet in the middle, transfer saboteurs and explosives, and hide them in the hold.”
“The next morning, they reverse the process,” Yardley said. “It’s plausible.”
Lachlan rested back in his seat. “All we need are the explosives.”
“Cilla has already requested them, and the Abwehr has agreed to send them.”
Cilla folded in her lips, lowered her head, and wrinkled her forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Lachlan asked.
Yardley sniffed and leaned his shoulder against the window. “With the explosives, the Abwehr is sending another agent, an explosives expert.”
“Another agent?” Lachlan knifed his hand through the air. “Never. You must refuse.”
“She can’t refuse,” Yardley said. “This will require complex explosives, and Cilla received only rudimentary training. If she were a true spy, she’d welcome the help.”
“We cannae allow it.” Lachlan stared the man down. “What about Maggie, the lass who works for the salvage company? She’d know men who work with explosives.”
“Not German explosives. Cilla has no reason to refuse other than sheer pride.”
Lachlan’s shoulders sagged. “Or that she’s turned.”
Cilla raised shimmering eyes, and she nodded.
They could not let this happen. “A German explosives expert? We cannae allow this, cannae allow such a man to run free in Scotland.”
“No need to worry,” Yardley said. “The Abwehr will tell Cilla where he’s landing, and we’ll arrest him straightaway.”
“And if you miss him?” Lachlan shook his hand in Cilla’s direction. “He’ll be looking for Cilla.”
