Lachlan missed a note, drawing his father’s gaze. Drawing a knowing and pitying widening of his pupils.
The Germans had made him cry—and in front of his father.
One more offense to lay at their feet.
11
Dunnet Head, Scotland
Wednesday, June 4, 1941
Cdr. Ernest Yardley drove his staff car over a flat and featureless land, dotted with occasional ponds and trees and clumps of golden-flowered gorse bushes.
Not unlike the Netherlands, but with far fewer towns and homes. Cilla recognized part of the road from her drive to the Thurso police station with the silent kilt-clad Scot at the wheel.
Now a different naval officer sat at the wheel with two Wrens in the backseat.
For the past mile or so, the road had followed a slight upward slope, leading away from the beach where she’d landed, thank goodness. If she encountered Lieutenant Mackenzie again, he would be certain to skewer her with his dagger.
The road swung to the west and ran parallel to a stone wall.
“We’ve arrived at Dunnet Head.” Yardley tipped his chin toward the wall. “As you remember from your little boat journey, Cilla, this peninsula is surrounded by cliffs three hundred feet high. This wall runs from the cliff on the west to the cliff on the north. Only one road penetrates the wall.”
“Good to know we’ll be safe.” She lifted a sly smile. Yardley had no concerns for her safety, only her security.
On the other side of the stone wall, the road forked, and Yardley took the road to the north toward a white lighthouse. The road to the northeast led to a walled-in area of concrete buildings with odd metal antennae on their roofs.
“What’s that?” Cilla asked.
“Admiralty Experimental Station Number Six,” Yardley said. “It is guarded, and you’ll never enter the station itself. And that is more than you need to know.”
In the backseat, Imogene St. Clair huffed. “I still don’t think it’s wise having her so close to a—”
“We have our reasons, St. Clair.” Yardley shot Imogene a withering glance over the seatback. “Remember, every word in her messages must be approved by MI5 and the Admiralty. Your job is to guard her.”
Imogene’s eyes narrowed at Cilla. “Happily.”
“I’m glad you enjoy your assignment.” Cilla gave the woman her sweetest smile, then spun to face front.
Yardley nodded toward the station. “As we discussed, St. Clair and Reese—we discourage fraternization since your work is hush-hush. Cilla, you will have little to no contact with the men at the station.”
“Spoiling all my fun.” She gave her voice a cheery, teasing tone despite the bleak life awaiting her.
Yardley drove around one-story buildings with flat roofs. “The men at the station are billeted in nearby villages, but you ladies will be billeted here in one of the two lightkeepers’ houses. I’ll have my office as station commander in the other house, as well as my quarters, which I will share with the lightkeepers.”
Brilliant blue doors livened up the spartan white buildings, and Cilla smiled.
“Leave your kit in the car for now, ladies.” Yardley parked bya low whitewashed wall enclosing a paved courtyard between the lighthouse and the buildings.
Yardley opened the car door for Imogene and Gwen, whilst Cilla opened her own door and stepped out.
A chilly breeze tugged at her red hat, and she clamped it in place.
“Your quarters, ladies.” Yardley gestured to one of the squat buildings to his left, then the second. “My office and quarters. During the day, St. Clair and Reese will be on duty in my office, the lightkeepers will either be sleeping or performing maintenance, and you, Cilla, will be in the lighthouse, doors locked from the outside.”
“Ah.” The lighthouse rose to her right, tall and white, with a black lantern at the top and a buff-colored balcony encircling the tower below the lantern.
Yardley opened the lighthouse door. “During the day, you’ll maintain the building, keep watch as trained by your Abwehr handler, and compose your messages. In the evenings, you may roam within the boundaries of the walls, accompanied by either St. Clair or Reese. You’ll receive occasional half days during the week to run errands in town, and you’ll have your Sundays free. Accompanied by a Wren at all times, of course.”
