‘I want you to lead their sightseeing mission,’ he said. ‘Infiltrate their unit. Bring them in. Give them the tour. Have them report back to Berlin so they can tell Hitler what we’re up to, playing silly buggers with radio shows.’
‘You want me to lead a team of fifth columnists into a secret military establishment, let them see everything, then get them out again safely,’ I said.
The words hung in the air. I’d hoped it might sound less insane said out loud, but I was wrong. This wasn’t a plan, it was a fantasy.
‘Good man,’ Bunny said. ‘I knew you’d catch on.’
‘What if it goes wrong and we end up shooting?’ I asked.
‘We’ve thought of that,’ he said. ‘We’ve set up a dead-letter drop. A place on the Forest where you can leave a message. We check it every odd hour. One, three, five, and so on. Leave a message when you know the date and time, and we’ll dial down the security.’
We climbed the stairs and found ourselves back in the art deco house.
‘I’m sure it doesn’t need saying,’ Bunny said, manufacturing an off-hand air, ‘but everything I’ve just shown and told you is strictly between us.’
‘Of course.’
‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘Anyone at all. Friend. Family. Lover.’
I opened my mouth to ask if he knew about me and
Margaret, but kept the words to myself. When it came to deciding which of the two I’d trust, Bunny or Margaret, I knew which side I was on. Besides, Bunny had recruited herjust as he’d recruited me, sidling up to her in a London club, asking if she’d like to serve her country.
‘She might think it odd if I suddenly suggest attacking a military installation,’ I said.
‘You’ll think of something. I’ve read your file, Cook, all that stuff in the Himalayas. Quite imaginative.’
*
I kicked a croquet ball towards a hoop as I strode across the lawn. The ball hit the hoop but didn’t go through.
‘Cook,’ Bunny called out after me. ‘This has to work. Our ability to repel the invasion depends on it.’
I kept walking, to the edge of the lawn, and the trees beyond.
‘Whatever it takes to get the job done, Cook,’ he said, his voice coming out of the darkness like one of Scrooge’s ghosts.
‘Whatever it takes.’
55
Margaret was in my armchair, in the snug, her feet up on a wooden stool. She was asleep. The fireplace smelt of hundreds of years of smoke, even in the midst of summer. Stacks of books and seed catalogues covered the table under the window. She had a paperback on her lap, and an oil lamp glowed on the side table.
I kissed her, and she opened one eye.
‘Change of plan,’ I said. ‘Infiltrate Vaughn’s Nazi club.’
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Bunny,’ I said.
I sat in the opposite armchair and took my boots off.
‘Do I get the full story?’ she asked.
‘Top secret,’ I said.
‘I thought we told each other our things.’
