The Suicide Exhibition: The Never War (Never War 1) (11 page)

‘Eleanor James.’ She was smiling. ‘I’ve asked the Gate to send the colonel straight up when he arrives.’

Wiles nodded. ‘He sent another of those weird transmissions last week, this one originating over south east England. Damned if I know why he’s coming here himself, though.’ He cleared his throat, realising he had said that out loud. ‘Um, sorry, Debbie.’

‘Eleanor,’ she corrected him.

Wiles nodded without really hearing. He needed space to work, he needed to talk to Fredericks and arrange time to examine this latest data from Brinkman. The colonel would want answers – he always wanted answers. Wiles bundled together the papers he had been working on, shuffled them into a neat pile, and dumped them on the floor. He still had to provide the data needed for a run on the bombe machines used to try to derive the day’s Enigma rotor settings. But there would be time for that later. For the moment, the German Enigma codes could wait – this was far more worrying.

Immediately, he was absorbed in the problem. He didn’t hear the knock on the door of the small hut. Didn’t look up when the door opened and Colonel Brinkman came in. Didn’t react when the colonel cleared his throat. Not until the girl who wasn’t Debbie tapped his shoulder and said quietly:

‘Colonel Brinkman’s here.’

‘Thank you,’ Brinkman said to her. ‘You can leave us now.’

‘Sir.’ Eleanor James nodded to Brinkman and the woman with him, and let herself out of the hut.

Wiles straightened up. ‘I’m giving it all the time I can spare.
You really don’t need to check up on me, you know.’ He nodded deferentially to the woman. She had been before, but Wiles didn’t immediately remember her name either.

‘I’m not checking up on you,’ Brinkman assured him. ‘Though I have brought you more data.’

‘Another trace?’ Wiles peered over his glasses excitedly. ‘Excellent – data is what we need. The more the better. We can compare and contrast, look for patterns, clues, fragments…’

Brinkman opened his briefcase and removed a folder. Wiles all but snatched it from him. He opened the folder and tipped out the papers inside, spreading them across the desk. He pushed his glasses up his nose again as he inspected them.

‘This is tracking information?’

‘From the Observer Corps,’ the woman said. He remembered her name now – Manners. ‘The other sheet gives RADAR traces.’

‘What do you think?’ Brinkman asked.

Wiles answered without looking up. ‘I think you’re a very impatient man. I shall have to study these for a long time before I know whether there is anything to be learned from them. Gleaning that knowledge will take even longer. And with the amount of other work that Fredericks and his lackeys are foisting on me I wouldn’t hold out too much hope for a swift response.’

‘Don’t worry about Fredericks,’ Brinkman told him.

Wiles snorted. ‘Easy for you to say. It’s not your neck he’s breathing down. Proverbial dragon, that one.’

‘You no longer work for Fredericks,’ Brinkman said.

Wiles looked up sharply. ‘Does
he
know that?’

Miss Manners checked her watch. ‘He should have been informed just a few minutes ago.’

‘From now on, the UDT transmissions are your number one priority,’ Brinkman said. ‘In fact, they are your only priority.’

‘But what about my other work?’ Wiles protested. He kicked at the papers he’d earlier dumped on the floor. ‘Enigma? And the other stuff? I’ve got a bombe run scheduled in about half an hour, you know.’

‘Not any more,’ Brinkman said. ‘From this moment, you work exclusively for Station Z, you understand?’

Wiles sniffed and frowned. ‘Well… I can’t deny it’s a challenge.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Yes, a real poser, this one. But to be honest, even working full time it will take a while to crack the transmissions. Even if we
can
crack them. I say!’ He looked suddenly startled as a thought occurred to him. ‘Do I have to move out of here?’

They all looked round the hut – papers piled precariously on every surface. A blackboard was covered with tiny chalk calculations, some underlined and others crossed out. Books lay where they had toppled across and from shelves.

‘You don’t have to move out,’ Brinkman said, to Wiles’ evident relief. ‘And you can choose your own team.’

‘Team?’

‘Within reason,’ Miss Manners said quickly. ‘Three assistants and a runner. Maximum.’ She glanced at Brinkman, and he nodded.

‘And Fredericks has agreed this?’ Wiles shook his head in disbelief.

‘I’m not sure “agreed” is exactly the word,’ Brinkman said. He turned as the door to the hut slammed open so hard it hit the wall behind. ‘Ah, looks like you can ask him yourself.’

When Brinkman and Miss Manners disappeared inside the hut, Sarah made to follow. But Guy stopped her.

‘They’ll spot us straight away.’

‘Maybe that’s the best thing.’

‘That and a court martial.’

‘We’ve come this far. I want to know what’s going on.’

‘Me too,’ Guy told her, though he was no longer sure it was true.

The door of the hut opened again and a woman in WRENS uniform emerged. She glanced at Guy and Sarah as she passed, but made no comment.

‘Let’s try round the back,’ Guy suggested.

He led Sarah round the side of the hut. They were hidden
from the path here, and Guy risked a quick look through the window. It was dusty and he could barely make out the inside. Several people stood in the middle of the small hut – Brinkman, Miss Manners, and another man. More than that it was difficult to tell. He ducked out of sight again quickly.

‘Well?’

‘They’re talking to someone,’ Guy whispered.

They both strained to hear. Through the window came the faint buzz of conversation, but it was impossible to make out anything coherent. They persevered for a few minutes before Sarah sighed and shook her head.

‘This is a waste of time,’ she said. ‘We might hear more through the door.’

‘That won’t look at all suspicious,’ Guy muttered. But he followed her back to the front of the hut.

As soon as Sarah had turned the corner of the hut, she was back again. ‘Someone coming!’ she hissed.

They both pressed against the side of the hut, out of sight.

‘Man in a crumpled suit,’ Sarah whispered. ‘He doesn’t look happy.’

As she spoke, they heard the door of the hut slammed open.

‘What the hell are you playing at, Brinkman?’

The words reached them clearly through the open door. A moment later, it slammed shut again. Sarah and Guy stepped out from behind the hut. They could still hear the voices from inside, and Guy saw that the door wasn’t quite closed – the newcomer had slammed it so hard it had sprung open again.

They crept closer, listening, but also trying to look as if they had just stepped out of the hut for some air. As if they had every right to be there.

‘You can’t just commandeer my staff like this.’

‘Actually I can, Mr Fredericks.’ Guy recognised Brinkman’s voice. The colonel’s calm manner obviously did not have a soothing effect on Fredericks.

‘Dr Wiles is one of my senior analysts. I won’t have him diverted onto your… your… Onto whatever it is you people do,’ Fredericks finished lamely.

‘I’m afraid it’s not your choice. Dr Wiles and whoever he chooses to serve on his team—’

‘His
team
?’

‘I do hope you’re not going to make this any more difficult than it needs to be.’

Fredericks sounded almost incandescent with rage. ‘I shall fight this at every level, believe you me.’

‘Michael…’ another voice said, evidently trying to calm the man. ‘I didn’t ask for this. But for what it’s worth—’

‘You keep out of this, Wiles. It’s nothing to do with you.’

‘Um, well – actually…’ the hapless Wiles started.

But Fredericks wasn’t listening. ‘I’ll take this right to the top. We’ll see what Mr Churchill has to say!’

Guy glanced at Sarah, and saw that she was already watching for his reaction. She raised her eyebrows.

‘I can tell you exactly what Mr Churchill will say,’ Brinkman countered. His tone was conversational. ‘Miss Manners, do you have the letter?’

‘Of course.’ Her voice was so quiet they had to strain to hear her.

‘What is this?’ Fredericks demanded.

‘If you read it,’ Miss Manners said, ‘you’ll see that it is a letter of authorisation. It gives Colonel Brinkman carte blanche to recruit or requisition whoever and whatever we need.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘You are welcome to take it up with the authors of the letter,’ Brinkman said. ‘You’ll see that it is signed by General Ismay on behalf of the Prime Minister.’

There was silence for several moments. Guy found he was holding his breath as he waited for Fredericks’ response. But there was none.

Instead, he heard Miss Manners say: ‘We’ll let you know if we need anything else.’

The door was yanked open before Pentecross or Sarah could move. A man in a crumpled dark suit, his face so red with anger that he could only be Fredericks, strode out of the
hut. He pulled the door shut behind him, glaring first at Guy, then at Sarah, before he marched off.

‘He must think we’re with Brinkman,’ Sarah whispered as they took cover behind the hut once more.

A few moments later, they heard the hut door open again. Guy risked a quick look round the corner, and saw Brinkman and Miss Manners heading off in the same direction as they had originally come.

‘They said his name was Dr Wiles,’ Sarah said.

‘That hardly helps,’ Guy said.

‘It does if we want to talk to him.’

‘If we—’ He broke off as Sarah pushed past. ‘Now, hold on – you can’t just…’

But she could and she did. Sarah opened the hut door and stepped inside. Guy took a deep breath, and followed.

Wiles sat at his desk staring into space. He needed to think carefully who he might need to help with the transmission decryption. The trouble was, without knowing more of the nature of the problem, it was difficult to decide who was best able to help.

Wiles didn’t want to antagonise Fredericks any more than he had to. It was a question of getting the right balance between who was best for the job, and who could be spared from their other assignments. An added complication was that secrecy was so strict Wiles didn’t actually know what most of the people at Bletchley did or where their expertise lay. He was rather restricted to those he had worked with before.

‘Better the devils you know,’ he murmured.

He was about to return his attention to the latest documents Brinkman had brought when two more people came into the hut. A man and a woman, neither of them familiar to Wiles. The man wore a suit that had seen better days, the woman was smartly dressed in skirt and blouse.

‘Can I help you?’

‘We’re with Brinkman, Dr Wiles,’ the woman said. He caught the American accent.

‘Are you here to help, or to add further entreaties for me to do the impossible?’

‘We were supposed to be here for the briefing,’ the woman told him.

‘Briefing?’

‘The meeting,’ the man said quickly. ‘Just now. We got delayed.’

‘Hardly a briefing,’ Wiles said. ‘Anyway, Colonel Brinkman’s been and gone. You missed him.’

‘Maybe you could just tell us what he said?’ the woman asked.

Wiles frowned. ‘Why not ask the colonel?’

‘Like I said, we missed him.’ The man smiled apologetically. ‘So, if you could just fill us in.’

‘I’m not sure what you want to know, but you’d better show me your passes and I’ll tell you what I can.’

The man and woman exchanged looks, before offering their passes. Wiles glanced at them and forced a smile. ‘Fine, fine. Not that I can tell you much. Colonel Brinkman gave me the latest UDT intercepts from the Y Stations along with tracking data. I gather it’s a priority.’

The man nodded. ‘Absolutely. Top priority.’

‘Thank you, Dr Wiles,’ the woman said. ‘That’s a great help. We’d better be on our way. It was good to meet you.’

‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ Wiles said, but he was talking to the closing door. They were in a hurry to get out. A man from the FO and a woman from Air Transport. Brinkman was pulling strings in all directions it seemed.

Assuming things
were
what they seemed.

Wiles watched through the window as the man and woman disappeared back down the path towards the main driveway. Somewhere in amongst the books and papers there was a telephone. It took him a few moments to unearth it. He raised the receiver and listened. It was dead.

The door opened to let Eleanor James back in. Wiles waved her over with relief.

‘How do I get an outside line on this thing?’

She took it from him, dialled, and handed it back.

‘Thank you. Oh,’ he added, ‘and you just got promoted. From whatever you are now to something else.’

Wiles ignored her reaction and dialled a number. He might not have much of a memory for faces, but numbers were his business. The phone was answered on the third ring.

‘I wonder,’ Wiles said, ‘if I could leave a message for Colonel Brinkman?’

BRINKMAN GOT THE
message when he returned from Bletchley – a pencil scrawl on a scrap of paper left on his desk. He called Wiles back, and was still on the phone when Sergeant Green came into the office.

‘He didn’t get the woman’s name,’ Brinkman told Green. ‘But the man is Pentecross, from the FO.’

‘Persistent bugger, isn’t he, sir,’ Green said. ‘The woman could be that ATA girl, Diamond. I saw her in Piccadilly the other day. Thought it was a coincidence.’

‘Remind me,’ Brinkman said.

‘She had a run-in with a UDT, couple of months ago. Miss Manners and I spoke to her about it. Warned her off.’

‘Or not, perhaps.’

‘If it’s her.’

‘It seems likely,’ Brinkman decided. ‘I don’t believe in coincidence.’

‘You want me to do anything about it?’

‘Yes. But I’m not sure what. Need to think about this one,’ Brinkman said. He tapped the tips of his fingers together as he considered. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Yes, sir. Mr Alban is here. Miss Manners won’t let him past the front office, but he’s insisting he needs to see you.’