Lachlan puffed his cheeks full of air. Cilla’s story had unraveled.
“The spy said, ‘But she told us you did. That’s why I came. To help you.’” Neil rubbed his hands harder up and down his legs. “I knew—I knew I needed to call the police, but he was suspicious of me now. I had to placate him, so I told him we were very interested in sabotage. My friends would be coming soon and would be eager to discuss it. I asked if I could buy him a pint, and he agreed.”
“Is that when you rang the police?” Yardley said.
“Aye. I asked the barman to pull two pints, then asked to use the telephone. I kept my back to the German man, but when I turned around, he was gone.”
Yardley nodded. “When the police came, you were also gone. You didn’t leave your name either.”
“No.” Red flooded Neil’s cheeks. “I knew it’d look bad for me. Why would a German spy ask to speak to someone in Free Caledonia? And I—I wanted to talk to Lachlan. Cilla is a spy, and he needed to hear it from me first. He’d know what to do. This station is in danger, Scapa Flow. You’re all in danger.”
On any other day, words of trust from his brother’s mouth would have soothed Lachlan’s soul. But not when a spy roamed free. Armed.
Yardley set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, and he studied Neil long and hard.
“He hasnae told a soul,” Lachlan said. “Not our parents, not his friends in Free Caledonia, no one. He met me at Brough to take me to the police station in Thurso so we could file reports. I brought him here instead.”
“Very good, Mackenzie. What did you tell your brother?”
“That I could tell him nothing.”
Yardley returned his attention to Neil. “Mr. Mackenzie, have you heard of the Official Secrets Act?”
“Aye.” Neil looked even more confused, if that were possible.
“Everything we’ve discussed is covered by the OSA. You are never to mention or discuss this conversation or the events of last evening with anyone. Not even Lachlan.”
“What is going on?” Force filled Neil’s voice.
Yardley flipped up one hand. “This is now a case for the police and for MI5. We may ask you to testify or to identify a suspect, but that is the end of it.”
“Who are you?”
“As far as you’re concerned, I’m the commander of thisstation.” Yardley raised one eyebrow. “The penalties for violating the OSA would make your previous prison sentence look mild. Am I understood?”
Neil gaped at Lachlan. “How does he ...?”
Lachlan shrugged. Yardley knew everything about everybody.
Now Neil knew far more than he should. Especially about Cilla.
Lachlan cleared his throat. “Commander Yardley, Cilla is part of our community and a frequent guest at my family home. Neil thinks she’s a spy.”
“I know she’s a spy! Why have you not arrested her? She’s in the lighthouse, aye?”
Yardley stared Lachlan down, but Lachlan didn’t relent. He would not have his brother suspecting Cilla.
Yardley heaved a sigh and turned to Neil. “All you need to know is that Cilla is on our side. She can be fully trusted. I cannot and will not tell you more.”
Neil’s gaze shifted to Lachlan, wide and unbelieving, as if to say, “What are you involved with?”
Aye. What indeed?
37
If only the band of His Majesty’s Royal Marines would play a tune she could sing to. The BBC’s lively “Music While You Work” program was meant to stimulate productivity in factories, but Cilla kept pulling out stitches in the central figure in her fabric seascape. Instrumental music didn’t distract her enough.
A door thumped shut downstairs, and Cilla hauled in a breath. But the door was locked, no one was to be admitted without permission, and Gwen and Imogene were armed.
