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Sneum didn’t know what to say by way of comfort, so he told Kaj about his own situation: why he had asked his friend to post that letter to Else during the summer; and that he was no longer with his wife, either. Oxlund offered his friend a beer, as men often do in moments of emotional crisis. Before long they had resolved not to depress each other any further. Seeking to change the mood, Sneum asked if Kaj would like to get involved in something that would be sure to take his mind off his personal situation. ‘Could be risky though,’ he warned. ‘And you’ll have some company too, if that’s all right.’

The brutal fact was that Tulle’s departure was an advantage when it came to the mission. For a start, she wouldn’t be able to ask any tricky questions about Christophersen if he came to stay. And Oxlund could put all his energy into resistance work instead of trying to rescue his dying marriage.

In Sneum’s absence, Kaj had continued with his intelligence-gathering. All summer he had diligently compiled reports and made sure they reached the British Legation in Stockholm. Disappointingly, the proposed landing of a Sunderland sea-plane on Lake Tissoe had remained nothing more than a distant dream. But there was still plenty of interest to Sneum. And, crucially, Kaj said he was willing to welcome Christophersen, temporarily or otherwise. He could do with the company, he said a little forlornly.

Tommy’s next objective on behalf of the British was to make contact with Danish Intelligence. The German occupying forces, obeying an order from Berlin, had left this organization intact ever since the invasion. Hitler saw no great threat from Denmark, and sought to show the world he was capable of a ‘model occupation’ in at least one neighboring country. Meanwhile, to ensure their continued survival, the leading figures within Danish Intelligence, the so-called Princes, were anxious that no one should upset the delicate peace in Denmark. Any contact with the British would be made in great secrecy, if at all, and they certainly had no intention of leading a full-blown Danish resistance movement. Tommy had been trying to find out if these Princes were already sending information to any organization in Britain. And in spite of their reluctance to rock the boat, he hoped to incorporate them into the new spy ring which Rabagliati had empowered him to create and lead. On hearing of his arrival, however, the Princes warned Sneum, through an intermediary called Bjarke Schou, that they required proof of the incoming agent’s story before they were even prepared to meet him. Only if he could produce sizeable pieces of both parachutes—his and Christophersen’s—would the meeting take place.

Later Tommy explained: ‘The Princes didn’t believe I could have flown out of Denmark in the first place, not without the blessing of the Germans.’ Furthermore, they doubted the Allies would drop agents in Denmark without consulting them first. Such a policy went against everything that had been agreed with the British through their intermediary in Sweden, a journalist called Ebbe Munck. Not for the last time, the source of this dangerous confusion lay in the interdepartmental rivalry between the Secret Intelligence Service and the Special Operations Executive back in Britain.

Munck, Sneum and the Princes all had no grasp of the difference between SIS and SOE, because the British hadn’t told them. The Princes had simply been informed they were supplying information to a very specialized section of British Intelligence, focused on Denmark in particular. In fact, it was Ronnie Turnbull’s SOE office, based in neutral Stockholm, which had struck the deal with Danish Intelligence. In return for information, the Princes were told they would be left as the sole agents for intelligence-gathering in their own country. No British spies would be sent into Danish territory unless they were in transit, either on their way to or returning from Germany or destinations further east.