“Apparently not.” Lachlan’s jaw shifted side to side. “But for how long?”
“Pardon?”
“How long will the convoys go unmolested if we inform Hitler directly?”
Yardley’s brows lowered. “We’ve already discussed this. The Admiralty must approve all such messages, and they’ll be sent by post so they arrive too late for the Germans to attack.”
Lachlan couldn’t stand still. He slapped his portfolio shut and strode around the Fresnel lens. In times of peace, paraffin oil burnt in bright flame in the center of the rotating lens, and the rings of prismatic lenses focused the light into an intense beam.
War extinguished the beam, depriving both foe and friends.
“Commander, you compared Double Cross to a chess game. Those ships, those sailors are not pawns.”
Yardley peered around the lens with a gaze as hard as the glass. “We are aware of that, Mackenzie. Please do not ascribe sinister motives to our work.”
On the far side of the table, Cilla stretched her eyes wide, alarmed.
Lachlan had overstepped his bounds, and he dipped his chin. “I apologize, sir.”
Yardley turned to face Cilla at the table. “I bring good news from London. MI5 approved your new source.”
“Oh, good.” Her voice came out soft though, and her gaze slid to Lachlan.
“Source?” He moved closer so he could see Yardley’s face.
“She’s fictional,” Cilla said. “A secretary for a—a salvage company.”
“Salvage?”
Yardley nodded. “So Cilla can report information she hears from your father.”
No anger came, only a sinking sense of disbelief.
“I knew you’d disapprove—with good reason.” Cilla chewed on her lower lip. “That’s why I thought up this source. I named her Maggie.”
How could they involve his father in this mess? “I—”
“Don’t get outraged.” Yardley gave him a firm look. “We’ll give the salvage company a fictional name, and this Maggie will report only on things a secretary would know—numbers of ships salvaged, tonnage of scrap, prices.”
Cilla widened her eyes. “See, it sounds useful, but it won’t tell the Germans anything.”
“Correct,” Yardley said. “They won’t know when or how or where the ships were lost. It appears to answer Kraus’s questions, but it doesn’t.”
Lachlan closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his fingers. Such information wouldn’t aid the Germans or harm his family. Would it?
“Lachlan?” Cilla said. “I’ll only do this if you approve.”
She only called him Lachlan at Creag na Mara, where calling him “Lieutenant” didn’t sound right. He opened his eyes and raised a wry smile. “I’d rather you involved my brother than my father.”
Cilla grinned and clasped her hands together. “Maggie has a boyfriend named Fergus, who belongs to Free Caledonia.”
Yardley held up one hand. “I didn’t propose this to the Twenty Committee.”
“Fergus still exists if we want to use Neil’s information—without actually involving the Mackenzies.”
Lachlan studied the delight on her bonny face. She’d concocted a clever plan, whilst considering others.
Cilla bounced in her seat. “I thought of the perfect Abwehr code name for Maggie—Rahab. In the Bible, Rahab gave aid to the Hebrew spies. That was in a sermon recently, remember, Lachlan? Oh, that week it was too windy for you to come.”
