Stepping inside, she gasped. A scream caught in her throat and would not come out. The first thing she saw was the body of Martin Colville lying on the floor of the barn a few feet away from her. Part of the head was missing and blood and tissue were scattered everywhere. She felt her stomach retch.
Then she turned her attention to the second body. It was on its back, arms flung wide. Somehow, in death, the ankles had become crossed, as though he were napping. Blood obscured the face. For a brief second Mary permitted herself to hope that it wasn't actually Sean lying there dead. Then she looked at the old Wellington boots and oilskin coat and knew it was him.
The scream that had been trapped in her throat came out.
Mary cried, "Oh, Sean! Oh, my God, Sean! What have you done?"
She looked up and saw Horst Neumann standing over Sean's body, a gun in his hand. Standing a few feet from Neumann was a woman, holding a pistol in her hands aimed at Mary's head.
Mary looked back at Neumann and screamed, "Did you do this? Did you?"
"It was Colville," Neumann said. "He came in here, gun blazing. Sean got in the way. I'm sorry, Mary."
"No, Horst. Martin may have pulled the trigger, but you did this to him. Make no mistake about it. You and your friends in Berlin--you're the ones who did this to him."
Neumann said nothing. Catherine still stood with the Mauser leveled at Mary's head. Neumann stepped in, took hold of the weapon, and gently lowered it toward the ground.
Jenny Colville stayed in the darkened meadow and approached the barn from the side, hidden from view. She crouched against the outside wall, rain smacking against her oilskin, and listened to the conversation taking place inside.
She heard the voice of the man she knew as James Porter, though Mary had called him something else, something that sounded like Horse. It was Colville. . . . Sean got in the way. I'm sorry, Mary.
Then she heard Mary's voice. It had risen in pitch and quivered with anger and grief. You did this to him. . . . You and your friends in Berlin.
She waited to hear her father's voice; she waited to hear Sean's voice. Nothing. She knew then they both were dead.
You and your friends in Berlin. . . .
Jenny thought, What are you saying, Mary?
And then it all came together in her mind, like pieces of a puzzle that suddenly fall in the right order: Sean on the beach that night, the sudden appearance of the man called James Porter, Mary's warning to her earlier that afternoon: He's not what he appears to be. . . . He's not for you, Jenny. . . .
Jenny did not understand what Mary was trying to say at the time, but now she thought she did. The man she knew as James Porter was a German spy. And that meant Sean was a spy for the Germans too. Jenny's father must have discovered the truth and confronted them. And now he was lying dead on the floor of Sean Dogherty's barn.
Jenny wanted to scream. She felt hot tears pouring from her eyes down her cheeks. She raised her hands to her mouth to smother the sound of her crying. She had fallen in love with him, but he had lied to her and used her and he was a German spy and he probably just killed her father.
There was movement inside the barn, movement and a few soft exchanges of instructions that Jenny could not hear. She heard the German spy's voice, and she heard a woman's voice that did not belong to Mary. Then she saw the spy emerge from the barn and walk down the drive, torch in hand. He was heading toward the bicycles. If he found them, he would realize she was here too.
And he would come looking for her.
Jenny forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly, to think clearly.
She was being battered by several emotions. She was frightened, she was sick with the thought of her father and Sean dead. But more than anything else she was angry. She had been lied to and betrayed. And now she was driven by one overwhelming desire: she wanted them caught and she wanted them punished.
Jenny knew she would be no use if the German found her.
But what to do? She could try to run to the village. There was a telephone at the hotel and the pub. She could contact the police, and the police could come and arrest them.
But the village was the first place the spies would look for her. There was just one way into the village from the Doghertys': across the bridge by St. John's Church. Jenny knew she could be caught very easily.
She thought of a second option. They had to be leaving soon. They had just killed two people, after all. Jenny could hide for a short time until they had left; then she could emerge and contact the police.
She thought, But what if they take Mary with them?
Mary would be better off if Jenny were free and trying to find help.
Jenny watched the spy as he moved closer to the road. She saw the beam of his torch play over the surrounding ground. She saw it settle on something for a moment, then flash in her direction.
Jenny gasped. He had found her bike. She rose and started to run.