Eye of the Needle - Ken Follett [33]
Bloggs read: “Orders received. Regards to Willi.”
“Remember him?” Godliman said. “Die Nadel?”
“Yes,” Bloggs said hesitantly. “The Needle. But there’s not much information here.”
“Think, think! A stiletto is like a needle. It’s the same man: the murder of Mrs. Garden, all those signals in 1940 that we couldn’t trace, the rendezvous with Blondie…”
“Possibly.” Bloggs looked thoughtful.
“I can prove it,” Godliman said. “Remember the transmission about Finland that you showed me the first day I came here? The one that was interrupted?”
“Yes.” Bloggs went to the file to find it.
“If my memory serves me well, the date of that transmission is the same as the date of this murder…and I’ll bet the time of death coincides with the interruption.”
Bloggs looked at the signal in the file. “Right both times.”
“There!”
“He’s been operating in London for at least five years, and it’s taken us until now to get on to him,” Bloggs reflected. “He won’t be easy to catch.”
Godliman suddenly looked wolfish. “He may be clever, but he’s not as clever as me,” he said tightly. “I am going to nail him to the fucking wall.”
Bloggs laughed out loud. “My God, you’ve changed, Professor.”
Godliman said, “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve laughed for a year?”
9
THE SUPPLY BOAT ROUNDED THE HEADLAND AND chugged into the bay at Storm Island under a blue sky. There were two women in it: one was the skipper’s wife—he had been called up and now she ran the business—and the other was Lucy’s mother.
Mother got out of the boat wearing a utility suit, a mannish jacket and an above-the-knee skirt. Lucy hugged her mightily.
“Mother! What a surprise!”
“But I wrote to you.”
The letter was with the mail on the boat; Mother had forgotten that the post only came once a fortnight on Storm Island.
“Is this my grandson? Isn’t he a big boy?”
Little Jo, almost three years old, turned bashful and hid behind Lucy’s skirt. He was dark-haired, pretty, and tall for his age.
Mother said: “Isn’t he like his father!”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “You must be freezing—come up to the house. Where did you get that skirt?”
They picked up the groceries and began to walk up the ramp to the cliff top. Mother chattered as they went. “It’s the fashion, dear. It saves on material. But it isn’t as cold as this on the mainland. Such a wind! I suppose it’s all right to leave my case on the jetty—nobody to steal it! Jane is engaged to an American soldier—a white one, thank God. He comes from a place called Milwaukee, and he doesn’t chew gum. Isn’t that nice? I’ve only got four more daughters to marry off now. Your father is a Captain in the Home Guard, did I tell you? He’s up half the night patrolling the common waiting for German parachutists. Uncle Stephen’s warehouse was bombed—I don’t know what he’ll do, it’s an Act of War or something—”
“Don’t rush, Mother, you’ve got fourteen days to tell me the news.” Lucy laughed.
They reached the cottage. Mother said, “Isn’t this lovely?” They went in. “I think this is just lovely.”
Lucy parked Mother at the kitchen table and made tea. “Tom will get your case up. He’ll be here for his lunch shortly.”
“The shepherd?”
“Yes.”
“Does he find things for David to do, then?”
Lucy laughed. “It’s the other way around. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it himself. You haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“My dear, it’s about time I saw you. I know you’re not supposed to make unnecessary journeys, but once in four years isn’t extravagant, is it?”
They heard the jeep outside, and a moment later David wheeled himself in. He kissed his mother-in-law and introduced Tom.
Lucy said, “Tom, you can earn your lunch today by bringing Mother’s case up, as she carried your groceries.”
David was warming his hands at the stove. “It’s raw today.”
“You’re really taking sheep-farming seriously, then?” Mother said.
“The flock is double what it was three years ago,” David