The Unlikely Spy

"She's not sure exactly. She heard gunshots, ran outside to the barn, and found the bodies. The German told her that Colville burst in on them, and that's when the shooting started."

 

"Was there a woman with Neumann?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Tell me about the missing girl."

 

"Colville's daughter, Jenny. She's not at home, and her bicycle was found at the Doghertys'. Thomasson speculates she followed her father, witnessed the shooting or the aftermath, and fled. Mary is afraid the Germans found the girl and took her with them."

 

"Does she know where they were headed?"

 

"No, but she says they're driving a van--black, perhaps."

 

"Where is she now?"

 

"Still at the cottage."

 

"Where's Constable Thomasson?"

 

"He's still on the line from a public house in Hampton Sands."

 

"Was there any sign of a radio in the cottage or the barn?"

 

"Hold on. Let me ask him."

 

Vicary could hear Perkin, voice muffled, ask the question.

 

"He says he saw a contraption in the barn that could be a radio."

 

"What did it look like?"

 

"A suitcase filled with something that looked like a wireless. It was destroyed by a shotgun blast."

 

"Who else knows about this?"

 

"Me, Thomasson, and probably the landlord at the public house. I suspect he's standing next to Thomasson right now."

 

"I want you to tell absolutely no one else about what happened at the Dogherty cottage tonight. There is to be no mention of German agents in any report on this affair. This is a security matter of the utmost importance. Is that clear, Superintendent?"

 

"I understand."

 

"I'm going to send a team of my men to Norfolk to assist you. For now, leave Mary Dogherty and those bodies exactly where they are."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Vicary was looking at the map again. "Now, Superintendent, I have information that leads me to suspect those fugitives are in all likelihood heading directly your way. We believe their ultimate destination is the Lincolnshire coast."

 

"I've called in all my men. We're blocking all the major roads."

 

"Keep this office informed of every development. And good luck."

 

Vicary rang off and turned to Boothby.

 

"They've killed two people, they probably have a hostage, and they're making a run for the Lincolnshire coast." Vicary smiled wolfishly. "And it looks as though they've just lost their second radio."

 

 

 

 

 

58

 

 

LINCOLNSHIRE, ENGLAND

 

 

 

 

 

Two hours after leaving Hampton Sands, Horst Neumann and Catherine Blake were beginning to have serious doubts about their chances of making the rendezvous with the submarine in time. To escape the Norfolk coast, Neumann retraced his course, climbing into the cluster of hills in the heart of Norfolk, then following thin ribbons of road through the heathland and the darkened villages. He skirted King's Lynn to the southeast, wound his way through a series of hamlets, and then crossed the River Great Ouse at a village called Wiggenhall St. Germans.

 

The journey across the southern edge of the Wash was a nightmare. Wind poured in from the North Sea and whipped over the marshes and the dikes. The rain increased. Sometimes it came in irate squalls--swirling, windblown, erasing the edges of the road. Neumann hunched forward mile after mile, gripping the wheel with both hands as the van raced across the flat terrain. At times he had the sensation of floating through an abyss.

 

Catherine sat next to him, reading Dogherty's old Ordnance Survey map by the light of her torch. They spoke in German, so that Jenny could not understand. Neumann found Catherine's German odd: flat, toneless, no regional accent. The kind of German that is a second or third language. The kind of German that has not been used in a very long time.

 

Neumann, with Catherine navigating, plotted his course.

 

Cleethorpes, where their boat was waiting for them, lay next to the port of Grimsby at the mouth of the Humber. Once they were clear of the Wash, there were no large towns standing in their way. According to the maps there was a good road--the A16--that ran several miles inland along the base of the Lincolnshire Wolds, then to the Humber. For purposes of planning, Neumann assumed the worst. He assumed that Mary would eventually be found, that MI5 would eventually be alerted, and roadblocks would be thrown up on all major roads near the coastline. He would take the A16 halfway toward Cleethorpes, then switch to a smaller road that ran closer to the coast.

 

Boston lay near the western shore of the Wash. It was the last large town standing between them and the Humber. Neumann left the main road, crept through quiet side streets, then rejoined the A16 north of town. He opened the throttle and pushed the van hard through the storm.

 

Catherine switched off the blackout torch and watched the rain swirling in the soft glow of the headlamps.

 

"What's it like now--in Berlin?"

 

Neumann kept his eyes on the road. "It's paradise. We are all happy, we work hard in the factories, we shake our fists at the American and British bombers, and everyone loves the Fuhrer."

 

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