The Unlikely Spy(128)
"I came to see if you were all right."
"Do Sean and Mary know you're here?"
"No. I let myself in." She sat down on the edge of the small bed. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been through worse. Your father packs quite a punch. But then, you know that better than anyone else."
She reached out in the darkness and touched his face. "You should have seen a doctor. That was quite a cut on your face."
"Mary did an excellent job."
Jenny smiled. "She's had a lot of practice with Sean. She said that when Sean was young, Saturday night wasn't Saturday night unless it ended with a good fight outside the pub."
"How's your father? I think I hit him one too many times."
"He'll be all right. Oh, his face is a mess. He was never very good-looking to begin with."
"I'm sorry, Jenny. The whole thing was ridiculous. I should have known better. I should have just ignored him."
"The publican said my father started it. He deserved what he got. He's had it coming for a long time."
"You're not angry with me anymore?"
"No. No one's ever stood up for me before. That was a very brave thing you did. My father is as strong as an ox. He could have killed you." She removed her hand from his face and ran it across his chest. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"In the army."
"It was terrifying. My God, but your body is covered with scars."
"I've lived a very rich and fulfilling life."
She came closer to him. "Who are you, James Porter? And what are you doing in Hampton Sands?"
"I came here to protect you."
"Are you my knight in shining armor?"
"Something like that."
Jenny stood up abruptly and pulled her sweater over her head.
"Jenny, what do you think you're--"
"Shhh, you'll wake Mary."
"You can't stay here."
"It's after midnight. You wouldn't send me out into a night like this, would you?"
Jenny had removed her Wellington boots and her trousers before he could answer the question. She climbed into bed and curled up next to him, beneath his arm.
Neumann said, "If Mary finds you here, she'll kill me."
"You're not afraid of Mary, are you?"
"Your father I can handle. But Mary's another story altogether."
She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Good night." After a few minutes, her breathing assumed the rhythm of sleep. Neumann leaned his head against hers, listening to the wind, and after a few moments he slept too.
45
BERLIN
The Lancasters came at two o'clock in the morning. Vogel, sleeping fitfully on the army cot in his office, rose and went to the window. Berlin shuddered beneath the impact of the bombs. He parted the blackout curtain and looked out. The car was still there--a large black sedan, parked across the street, it had been there all night and all afternoon before that. Vogel knew there were at least three men inside, because he could see the embers of their cigarettes glowing in the dark. He knew the engine was running, because he could see the exhaust drifting from the tailpipe into the freezing night air. The professional in him marveled at the shoddiness of their surveillance. Smoking, knowing full well the embers would be visible in the dark. Running the engine so they could have heat, even though the worst amateur could spot the exhaust. But then the Gestapo didn't need to worry much about technique and tradecraft. They relied on terror and brute force. Hammer blows.
Vogel thought about his conversation with Himmler at the house in Bavaria. He had to admit Himmler's theory made a certain amount of sense. The fact that most of the German intelligence networks in Britain were still operational was not proof of Canaris's loyalty to the Fuhrer. It was proof of the opposite--his treachery. If the head of the Abwehr is a traitor, why bother to publicly arrest and hang his spies in Britain? Why not use those spies and, together with Canaris, try to fool the Fuhrer with false and misleading intelligence?
Vogel thought it was a plausible scenario. But a deception of that magnitude was almost unimaginable. Every German agent would have to be in custody or turned by the other side. Hundreds of British case officers would have to be involved in the project, turning out reams of false intelligence reports to be transmitted by wireless back to Hamburg. Could there be such a deception? It would be a mammoth and risky undertaking, but Vogel concluded it was possible.
The concept was brilliant, but Vogel recognized one glaring weakness. It required total manipulation of the German networks in Britain. Every agent had to be accounted for--turned or locked away where they could do no harm. If there was a single agent outside MI5's web of control, that one agent could file a contradictory report and the Abwehr might smell a rat. It could use the reports from the one genuine agent to conclude that all the other intelligence it was receiving was bogus. And if all the other intelligence was pointing toward Calais as the invasion point, the Abwehr could conclude that in fact the opposite was true--the enemy was coming at Normandy.
He would have his answer soon. If Neumann discovered that Catherine Blake was under surveillance, Vogel could dismiss the information she was sending as smoke concocted by British Intelligence--part of a deception.