Neil’s mouth hardened in an expression much like his brother’s. “Did Lachlan send you to spy on me?”
A laugh burst out. “Lachlan? Can you imagine him doing something underhanded like that?”
He tipped his sandy head to the side in acknowledgment.
Cilla ducked around him and smiled at the other two men. “You must be Neil’s friends.”
“Cilla, this is Henderson.” Neil gestured to the white-bearded man, then to his black-haired companion. “And Ross. Men, this is Cilla van der Zee. She’s a family friend.”
Cilla extended her hand to the men as they stood to greet her. “How do you do? I’m the apprentice lightkeeper at Dunnet Head.”
“Aye, I heard they had a lass doing a man’s work up there.” Henderson frowned as he took his seat.
“Necessities of war.” Cilla slid onto a wooden bench beside Neil and leaned closer so she could whisper to him. “I have lots of questions, but don’t worry—I won’t speak the name of your group.”
“Of Free Caledonia?” Neil said. “How not?”
Cilla gasped and glanced back over her shoulder. “Isn’t it illegal?”
“No.”
“Remarkable.” Cilla let her jaw dangle. “You can speak openly? In public?”
“Aye.”
“Truly remarkable.” Cilla addressed Henderson and Ross. “I come from the Netherlands. In the Dutch resistance, we had to hide and constantly change our meeting places. I thought this was like a resistance group.”
“We’re Scottish nationalists.” Henderson took a swig from his beer mug.
Cilla leaned her forearms on the thick wooden table. “You see the English government as an occupying power, yes? And you want to break free?”
All three men said, “Aye.”
“Remarkable.” Cilla swept a wide-eyed gaze around the pub. “Don’t you worry about the police raiding your meeting and arresting you?”
“Mackenzie here did go to prison.” Ross’s close-set dark eyes shone in admiration.
Neil raised one hand, his fingers spread wide. “Not for belonging to Free Caledonia. For refusing to register for conscription.”
“This is fascinating.” Cilla pulled a small book from her handbag. “The lighthouse has a little library, and I found this book on the history of Scotland. Now I understand what you mean about England mistreating Scotland over the years.”
“It’s still happening today,” Neil said in a gruff voice.
“Aye, they’re conscripting Scottish lasses to work in English factories, building weapons for the English War.” Henderson jammed a gnarled finger toward Cilla. “Havnae we factories in Scotland? They’re trying to destroy Scotland by stealing our daughters.”
“Oh my,” Cilla said. “And if you see the English as your enemies, you wouldn’t fight for them.”
The men grumbled their agreement and took swigs in unison.
But would they fightagainstthe English? Cilla held her tongue in check. She needed to build trust before asking suchincendiary questions, a skill she’d learned when infiltrating the Dutch Nazis. Ask questions. Sound fascinated without agreeing with their opinions. Refrain from criticism.
She launched a volley of questions about the history of the group, their views, and their actions. As they talked, it became clear that was all Free Caledonia did—talked.
They didn’t seem inclined toward active resistance, much less violence. For the sake of Britain and for Lachlan’s sake, a great relief. But for her reports as a double agent, disappointing. Three men grousing in a pub wouldn’t make the Abwehr salivate.
However, the tidbits would flesh out her reports and her fictional subagents, like Fergus.
For her reports to Kraus, she’d enlarge the Thurso chapter. A dozen men would be realistic for the size of the town and big enough to support the activities MI5 planned for Fergus and friends.
