Her Secret War
Page 30
‘Few fail to fall for its charms. I still recall the first time I came here. I was barely nineteen, green as they come, and had seen nothing of the world outside Harrogate. I was fascinated by the city and never wanted to leave. London was a different place then, of course, in the days before the last war. I had only begun to explore its delights, and a Civil Service career, when the Kaiser intervened. Unfortunately, life’s pleasures had to be abandoned to fight the Hun, and my life took a very different turn.’
‘You enlisted straight away?’
‘Yes. The fellows I worked with thought it would be a grand idea if we all signed up together. Poor blighters; more than half never made it back.’
‘Miss Whitaker told me you served under her late father, sir.’
‘Yes, indeed. General Whitaker was my commanding officer during the Great War,’ he said. ‘It was an honour to serve under him. He was one of the best. Old school, of course.’
‘He was a general? She never said.’
‘With Miss Whitaker it is always on a need-to-know basis,’ he replied with a quirk of a brow. He placed his hand on the closed folder on the desk. ‘Now, I have no wish to waste your time, Miss Gillespie. The reason I was anxious to make your acquaintance was to express our gratitude for your help in bringing down Captain Northcott. We were impressed by your courage and quick thinking. These are not common traits in someone so young, let me tell you.’
‘Thank you, but I was merely thinking on my feet on finding myself in a difficult situation.’
‘Many in your position would have hightailed it back to Ireland.’
‘It crossed my mind,’ she admitted. ‘Several times, in fact, when things got sticky.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘Loyalty to my family. I believed Northcott’s threat to deport them.’
He nodded. ‘Loyalty is a precious commodity these days.’
Sarah was uncomfortable. She had an inkling where he was going with this. ‘And I have proven where mine lies.’
‘Indeed you have, Miss Gillespie. There can be no doubt about it.’
‘Then why am I here, sir? Why was Miss Whitaker so insistent I speak to you?’ There was no point in prevaricating. As far as Sarah was concerned, she was here merely to repay a debt of gratitude to the Dragon.
‘She is not a lady to be thwarted, is she?’ he said, his eyes alight.
‘She is certainly not what she seems on first acquaintance,’ Sarah replied.
Colonel Everleigh burst out laughing. ‘No indeed, and many have made the mistake of underestimating her. She is one of my best agents.’
‘Northcott certainly underestimated her.’
Everleigh nodded. ‘And paid a heavy price for it. But his greatest error was trying to recruit you into his scheme.’
‘No doubt you are trying to compliment me, Colonel, but the reality is I made a mess of it. There is no other way to describe what happened that day in Winchester. I regret the outcome – and by that, I mean both deaths – though I am grateful to Miss Whitaker for saving my life. I just wish it could have had a different conclusion.’
‘Northcott would have hanged either way. I would not waste any sympathy on him.’ Sarah shrugged. The colonel went on: ‘Regrettably, there are many more like him.’
Sarah sighed. ‘Is that the reason you asked me here? Miss Whitaker has been pestering me for weeks, wanting me to join your … organisation, but as I made it plain to her – or at least I thought I had – that is not going to happen. Whatever debt I owed, real or imagined, is paid. I have no wish to end up like poor Andrew Howard.’
The colonel pursed his lips. ‘Yes, it was a shame he didn’t pull through; I understand the bullet did too much damage to his liver.’
‘And there will be no justice for his family with Northcott dead. Do you have any idea how he became involved with Northcott and his plans?’ Sarah asked.
‘We do. His sister told Miss Whitaker everything, in the end.’
‘Miss Whitaker never told me.’
‘Olivia Whitaker is always circumspect, Miss Gillespie. For the sake of Howard’s family, and in particular his sister, we need to keep the entire episode secret, especially Miss Whitaker’s role. We wish to keep the fact that she works for us out of the public domain. Not even Supermarine is aware of her MI5 status. However, as you were involved, I’m happy to give you some detail regarding Howard, with the stipulation it goes no further.’
‘It won’t, sir. Thank you.’
‘Andrew met Northcott through his father. Mr Howard played golf with Northcott. No doubt Mr Howard spoke of his family and where his daughter worked. Northcott must have been delighted with his good fortune. No doubt, he had been looking for a suitable person to help him carry out his plan. Learning that Ruth Howard worked at Supermarine must have ignited his interest. However, he didn’t approach Ruth, seeing a better target in her brother. It would appear he approached Andrew first at a family event. At the time, Andrew was working as an office junior for a Kent newspaper. It wasn’t an exciting job for a lad who wanted to fight but was precluded on health grounds. Andrew had been desperate to join the Navy, and we believe the captain played on that and persuaded Andrew that he knew of an opportunity for him to make a name for himself. If he would pose as a fascist, Northcott would supply him with a spy to uncover. It would be a great story for his newspaper, gain him a promotion, and he would be doing his country a service.’
‘And Andrew jumped at the chance to be a hero.’
‘He did. Northcott tipped him off about you as a promising opportunity for mischief and encouraged him to out you as a republican spy. The rest you know.’
Sarah nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Northcott was a nasty piece of work. But did he have to kill Andrew?’
‘As you are fond of plain speaking – and you will find I’m rather fond of it myself – Howard’s death, like many others, is collateral damage to people like Northcott.’
‘Sir, I believe he may have killed someone else.’ Sarah outlined her suspicions surrounding Alfie’s hit and run.
‘It would be difficult to prove, Miss Gillespie, but I don’t doubt the man was capable of it. When this is over, we will mourn all the innocents; but for now this is total war, Miss Gillespie. We are not playing parlour games. Northcott and his many friends are a threat to our very way of life. Despite official denial, we know there are networks of fascists throughout the country, doing their best to undermine us. They are like weeds: you pluck one and a dozen pop up in its place. You would be amazed if I were to tell you some of those involved. Public figures, some of them, and proving untouchable.’
‘Perhaps I’m happy to remain ignorant, Colonel. I am well aware of the price this war is exacting, and I am happy to do my bit, but that is working for Miss Whitaker in my current role.’
‘But that would be such a waste of your talents.’ Sarah protested and he held up his hand. ‘Hear me out, please. Have you any idea how difficult it is to find suitable agents? You have more than proven yourself capable of thinking clearly in a crisis. Faking that drawing was, I have to say, inspired. Do you believe that a fluke?’
‘No, it was the sensible solution in the circumstances. I didn’t want to risk using a real drawing.’
‘Exactly! Look; I’m a busy man, Miss Gillespie. The plain fact is that we want you to work for us.’
Sarah leaned forward, more than angry now. ‘And are you going to threaten me like Northcott did? Because, I assure you, it will not work on me again.’
‘I don’t use threats, Miss Gillespie, nor do I believe I need to.’
Sarah stared at him, half suspicious, half curious. ‘And why is that?’
Everleigh sighed. ‘We have a very special kind of problem and we believe you can solve it for us. I believe when you learn some of the details you will change your mind.’
‘I doubt it!’ Sarah exclaimed. The temptation to get up and walk out was strong, but her curiosity was stronger. Everleigh sat back
in his chair and remained silent, putting her in mind of a spider. Finally, she succumbed, digging her fingers into her palms. ‘What details?’ she asked. The colonel’s shoulders relaxed. Damn, she thought. He has drawn me in far too easily.
‘I will be frank with you, Miss Gillespie. Your recent adventure and your nationality give you a particular insight that would be useful to us.’
‘Oh, no, not this again.’ With a shake of her head, she stared down into her lap. All this familiar scene would need now would be for the man to bring up the republicans.
‘You are uniquely placed to root out someone for us. He is a ghost. A dangerous man who is orchestrating the escape of fascists from this country back to Germany before we can lay our hands on them. Our fear is that he may also be facilitating German agents, enabling them to access this country without our knowledge. If so, he is providing these people with false identities so they can vanish into the ether or meld into English society.’
Sarah frowned across at the colonel. ‘Why can’t you find this man, this ghost?’
‘He is deeply embedded in an organisation which has invested in his protection. He gets the job done for them and is paid well for it. In return, they keep him safe.’ Everleigh sighed. ‘He has more aliases than you can shake a stick at, and he flits from one town to another with ease. We are always one step behind.’ He reached inside the file and pulled out a small photograph. He slid it across the table to her. ‘You need to see this, Miss Gillespie.’
Sarah picked up the photo and shot him a furious glance. ‘Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, it’s not terribly funny.’ As she stared at the picture, a rush of pure anger surged through her.
‘That was taken two weeks ago in Cardiff.’
‘What? That is impossible.’
‘The man who took the photograph managed to get the film into the post to us. Unfortunately, the following day he was found dead in the back garden of his home, which had been ransacked. I’m sure this is a shock for you, Miss Gillespie, but you of all people know what this man is capable of.’
Rigid with fury, Sarah crushed the photograph in her hand. ‘I think you had better explain, Colonel, because I thought he was lying in the family plot in Glasnevin Cemetery.’
‘I’m afraid not. Jim Gillespie is alive and well and causing us considerable inconvenience.’
In an effort to calm her breathing, Sarah stared out of the window behind Everleigh. This was madness: she should walk away right now. The day she left Ireland she had jettisoned the bad memories. Now they were regurgitated, flashing before her eyes like a sick magic-lantern show: the bruises on her mother and sister; on her own skin in the mirror. All that pain, the constant fear and rumours, and worst of all, a lifetime of flinching at the sound of a key in the door …
‘As you can probably guess, the bombing of North Strand was the perfect opportunity for your father to disappear. His sources had informed him that Irish Special Branch were on to him. We know this because the authorities in Dublin had sent us their surveillance reports when we had raised concerns about him. They were just as alarmed by his antics. They didn’t want fascists or Germans using Ireland as a springboard to Germany as it would cause considerable embarrassment to the Irish government, having declared neutrality. When the bombs dropped, he made straight for the train station. I imagine he couldn’t believe his luck. The pandemonium was the perfect cover. We believe he slipped out of Ireland through Northern Ireland on the first of June, then managed to find passage to England on a boat out of Belfast. After that, the trail goes cold; he was welcomed with open arms by his friends here and quickly disappeared.’
Sarah shook with anger. ‘He abandoned us without a second thought, even though he must have known where the bombs fell,’ she choked out. ‘He never sought us out to see if we were alive or dead, or considered we might be mourning him needlessly. My God, his ring. He must have planted it on someone else before he left. How cruel!’
The colonel shrugged. ‘Efficient and effective. That’s why he is so dangerous.’
‘And I identified it – I played right into his hands and helped him to disappear.’ A cold shiver went down her back. ‘Maura and I were just baggage to be discarded,’ she said at last, appalled.
Breathing hard, Sarah regained control of her temper. She knew this man sitting opposite was manipulating her to take advantage of her burning hatred of her father, but if she was honest, hadn’t her anger at all of the injustice of this war still been bubbling away beneath the surface, even after Northcott’s death? She still wanted revenge for Maura, and now for Andrew, but if she took this step, it would change her irrevocably. She might even die trying to track her father down.
Sarah exhaled slowly and met Colonel Everleigh’s steady gaze.
‘When do I start?’
THE END
Acknowledgements
One of my earliest memories is accompanying my father to our local library. Both my parents encouraged me to read, and as an only child, books provided a safe and beguiling way to explore the world. However, it was my father’s love of history which resonated with me the most, and although I devoured crime novels as a teenager, historical fiction has always been my first choice. It is hardly any surprise that it is my chosen genre both for reading and writing to this day.
No writing journey is possible without support from family and friends. This, I have in abundance. My long-suffering hubby Conor and my three wonderful children, Stephen, Hazel and Adam, have endured many a hastily thrown together dinner for my craft! To friends and work colleagues: thanks for the words of encouragement over the years. It kept me going when hope and belief sometimes faltered.
I would like to take the opportunity to thank one incredibly special lady, Thérèse Coen, my agent. It was her suggestion of a WW2 novel with an Irish slant that resulted in Her Secret War. For your continued support, guidance and hard work, I am extremely grateful. A big thank you to all the team at Hardman & Swainson. You guys are the best.
My local and family history inspired Her Secret War, and I am immensely proud of this novel. However, it would not have been possible to bring this book into the world without the keen eye and enthusiasm of Katie Loughnane, my editor at Avon Books UK. Katie and all the team at Avon and HarperCollins have polished my story and made it shine. Thank you.
I owe so much to my incredible and loyal readers of all my first drafts, namely Lorna, Terry, Joan, Kevin and Keith. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
The cornerstone of historical fiction is research. In this regard, I was extremely lucky to come across the fabulous Supermariners website, hosted by David Key. The in-depth research David had already carried out enabled me to recreate those war years at Vickers Supermarine at Hursley Park in Hampshire with confidence. I am deeply indebted to you, David, and thanks so much. To Cheryl Morris at Diagio who so promptly answered my queries regarding the distinctive smell which used to emanate from the Guinness brewery at St. James’s Gate in Dublin; thank you for resolving the argument! And finally, thanks to Kevin C. Kearns, author of The Bombing of Dublin’s North Strand 1941: The Untold Story. This book was a wonderful resource of eyewitness accounts, which brought the events of that fateful night to life. Thank you for your painstaking research.
I am extremely grateful to have such loyal readers, who are so kind and generous. For those of you who take the time to leave reviews, please know that I appreciate them beyond words. To the amazing book bloggers, book tour hosts and reviewers who have hosted me and my books over the years – thank you.
Last, but not least, I am incredibly lucky to have a network of writer friends who keep me sane, especially Sharon Thompson, Valerie Keogh and Fiona Cooke. Special thanks to the members of the Historical Novel Society and RNA Irish Chapters, and all the gang at the Coffee Pot Book Club.
Go raibh míle maith agat!
Pam Lecky, October 2021
About the Author
Pam Lecky is an Irish historical fiction
author. Having been an avid reader of historical and crime fiction from a young age, it was inevitable that her books would be a combination of the two. Pam lives in north County Dublin with her husband and three children. She can be contacted through social media or by visiting her website www.pamlecky.com.
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