Cilla’s pen scratched the notepad, and a chill raced up her fingertips and into her heart. She leaned back and lifted the notepad with trembling hands. “Oh no. He says, ‘We appreciate the information you’ve sent and the work you’ve done. With our plans to commit more sabotage and provoke an insurrection, you’ll need more training. You’re hereby ordered to report to Lisbon as soon as can be arranged. Further instructions coming.’”
“Lisbon?” Gwen clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh no.”
“They know—they know I’m compromised.” Cilla’s voice rose and shook. “They want to take me to Germany for interrogation. I can’t—I can’t go to Lisbon.”
“Don’t worry.” In the light from the paraffin lamp, Gwen’s light brown eyes glowed in a soothing manner. “Yardley would never allow you to go. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
Yardley wouldn’t take any chances that Cilla might divulgeinformation about MI5 under torture. The notepad thudded to the table, and Cilla pressed her hands to her cheeks. “If I disobey Kraus’s order and don’t go to Lisbon, he’ll have even more reason to suspect me.”
“Then we simply must convince him you’re loyal. By committing sabotage. That will prove you’re an excellent agent and can be trusted.”
“Yes.” Everything sorted in her mind. “I’ll tell him the plans are proceeding so quickly, I couldn’t possibly leave now.”
“And it isn’t easy to go to Lisbon. You’d need a permit, and it’s expensive to travel.”
“I don’t have the funds. That’s the end of it.” Cilla forced a triumphant smile. Not only was returning to Germany unacceptably dangerous, she couldn’t bear to leave Scotland. To leave Lachlan.
40
Dunnet Head
Saturday, April 18, 1942
When both Commander Yardley and Cilla looked peely-wally, the news couldn’t be good.
Lachlan sank into his chair in the lightroom. “What’s wrong?”
“We have reached a crisis.” Standing beside the table, Yardley spoke in a somber tone. “Kraus rejected Cilla’s excuses for not reporting to Lisbon. On Monday, he ordered Cilla to meet a U-boat offshore on the night of the first of May.”
Outside, the sun shone in a blue sky, but the blackest of clouds passed over Lachlan’s vision. “We cannae allow that.”
“Of course not.”
Red rimmed Cilla’s eyes. “The Abwehr suspects I’ve turned. If I meet the U-boat, I’ll be interrogated. I—I don’t know how long I could hold up under torture—does anyone know? I might betray Double Cross.”
Lachlan folded his arms and gripped his biceps hard—the only way he could restrain himself from embracing her.
“We will not allow you to go,” Yardley said. “The Abwehrmight suspect all their agents—as well they should—and the Allies would lose a potent weapon.”
“More importantly, Cilla would be tortured.” Lachlan glared at Yardley. “Executed.”
He glared right back. “As I said, we will not allow it.”
Cilla pressed her hand over her eyes. “If I went, I—I might be able to convince them of my loyalty. I can act. But then I’d also convince my friends in the Netherlands. Word would spread. Everyone would think I was a German collaborator. Then after the Allies win ...” Her voice shattered.
A chill crackled its way through Lachlan’s whole body. She’d be tried for treason.
Cilla’s mouth crumpled. “I’d rather die in German hands as an Allied agent than in Dutch hands as a traitor to my own country.”
“You cannae go.” Lachlan forced the words through his swollen throat. “You cannae.”
“MI5 will not even consider it.” Yardley gave his head a sharp shake. “We discussed this at length at the Twenty Committee meeting on Thursday.”
Cilla slapped her hand into her lap, revealing watery eyes. “Kraus will be on the U-boat. He said if I don’t come, he’ll take a boat to shore to fetch me.”
Yardley raised a grim smile. “We’ll be waiting for him.”
“And if he evades you?” Lachlan said. “Jericho did.”
