Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [31]
She wondered who it might be. Across town, the church bell rang six-thirty. A tear ran down Ma’s cheek, as she thought of Celia, and what she had done.
5 Things to Come
The patrol had spotted the dark-haired woman as she entered the harbour at ten past six, and had notified Standartenführer Wolff by telephone. Within five minutes, Wolff had intercepted her as she made her way to the quayside and the fishing boats moored there. She was unarmed and didn’t struggle as she was handcuffed and gagged with thick adhesive tape.
Wolff examined this enemy spy. She wore patched trousers and a thick fisherman’s sweater, but underneath those clothes she was a very shapely young woman. Her hair was raven-black. She had beautiful fiery eyes, with long, curly lashes. He caught a whiff of her perfume.
‘Are you going to make this easy on yourself?’
The girl shrugged. Wolff released his grip, and she struggled to undo the top button of her trousers. Wolff ran his finger methodically around her waistband. Finally he found a couple of sheets of cigarette paper concealed there. He motioned to the girl, who refastened her trousers. Wolff studied the sheets. Two sketch maps, a couple of sheets of gibberish: clearly some code or other. The girl stood by, waiting for him to react.
‘The hospital complex?’ he asked.
The girl nodded.
‘And this is the airstrip?’
Again, she nodded.
‘You drew the maps on cigarette paper so that you could swallow or smoke them if caught. You were passing this on to Arthur Kendrick’s Scientific Intelligence Division in London?’
The girl’s sullen expression faltered for just a second.
‘We know all about your operation. You are part of the so-called “Tomato” network that covers these islands and the coast of France that faces them. It is especially concerned with German defensive capability. The network comprises some thirty people. You only know the name of two other people in this chain.’ He reached into his pocket, and held a typed sheet of paper up to her face. ‘Those are the rest. Your name is fourth on the list. You’ll see that the previous three have been crossed off. That is your name: Colette Mallard?
Occupation: Shop assistant at the greengrocer’s on Smith Street?’
She nodded, the trace of a tear in her eye.
‘You see, I know even more about you than you do yourself. So, I’m afraid, there would be no point interrogating you.’ He paused, gesturing round theatrically. ‘This street is the Rue des Vaches. Do you know why it’s called that? In years gone by, cows from Jersey couldn’t be unloaded on the quay, so farmers would push them into the harbour. They would be forced to swim ashore, then they would be herded up this way to the abattoir. Those poor, pretty, long-lashed cows.’
He broke her neck.
The Doctor awoke in an eighteenth-century four-poster bed.
There was no one else in the room. He was wearing a knee-length night-shirt. Outside, overhead, were a number of bombers on descent trajectories: German planes coming back in to land after a hard night’s bombing. Judging by the amount of light coming through the curtains, it was nearly dawn.
He had only been unconscious for about twelve hours, then. They’d drugged him just before putting him on the plane. So, this must be Granville. He pushed aside the laundered bedsheets, and stood. The effect of the sedative
— unless he was very much mistaken, simply chloroform —
had completely worn off. He peered around the room. The decoration was French, but anachronistic: most of it was about one hundred and fifty years too early, the sort of thing he would have expected to see in Napoleon’s time. The Doctor ran his fingers over a delicate glass nymph, circa 1830. Presumably, this townhouse had been some sort of museum before the Nazis had requisitioned it.
He pulled one of the curtains back slightly. This house was in the centre of Granville, and the town looked