The Spy by Marc Eden Read Free Book Online Page A

“nondisclosure” had been safely filed away with Blackstone at Bletchley Park. Smacking of gingerbread and Gordon and Lewis Carroll—officially, the Government Code and Cypher School, or “Golf Course”—this Victorian estate north of London formed the last refuge for survivors from the world of Palm Beach suits; sexual pariahs who had been flushed out, or reluctantly recruited, by the demands of war: men like Alan Turing, who had deciphered the German Enigma, and James Bridley; delicate and creative men from the fashion, film, and theatrical districts, who were its undisclosed, often embarrassing, cohabiteurs .
    Bletchley had seen red.
    â€œWhy, those ponces are no better than the bloody Indian snakemen down at Blackpool, sir!” Commodore Blackstone had blustered. Snakemen . Men with tattoos, he’d meant: Cockneys and concessionaires and that sort. Blackpool, by the sea, favored by shopgirls like Valerie Sinclair, who had delighted in its summers.
    â€œSir?”
    A few seconds had passed. He had been thinking of something. Neither of them had moved. He was describing the monster, made of metal; information so terrible that even as he spoke, he himself could be suspect. Resumes could be rigged, changed..... Then what of hers? “Under pain of death,” Hamilton now reminded her, “you have recently signed the British Official Secret’s Act.”
    â€œYes, sir.” She had?
    He waited.
    â€œMum’s the word, sir.”
    Through the closed glass, sunlight was beating; shadows crawled along casements. Sinclair was thinking. “But what kind of a weapon, sir?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
    â€œOne that could cause us to lose.” He looked at her coolly.
    â€œTo lose ?”
    â€œExactly.”
    My God, he meant it!
    â€œSomething exceedingly massive,” Hamilton said. “Rocket-oriented, directional beam, we suspect...some new principle. They call it ‘the Waterfall,’ between forty and eighty thousand tons. We suspect they have at least fifty of them, and that they will launch before August.”
    Aware that Von Braun and his teams were accelerating the knockout punch, Hamilton knew the British must find it first. Insisting it a rocket , he had just removed her from further consideration of it as the world’s first Atomic Bomb.
    â€œWe have to locate it,” she was hearing, the voice an echo. His words, carefully selected, were skirting an abyss of horror.
    She was starting to feel frightened.
    The Commander placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “There there, my dear, well take care of it, of course.”
    â€œWe will?” Her eyes were wide.
    â€œCertainly. That’s our job: to resolve these darker mysteries of the war. At the same time, we must discover the locations of their laboratories and launching pads. It is our duty, you see, to make certain they do not reissue.”
    It was also to their interests.
    In a surprise move, Whitehall had cut a deal giving General Dwight Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, full control over the R.A.F.’s Joint Weather Command. In exchange, Ike had agreed to place General Omar Bradley’s 1st Army, presently in Normandy, under the direct control of Britain’s Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery. With Mountbatten out of the country, and with Air Boss Tedder minding the fort, David Hamilton had been called in as a Special Aide by Churchill himself, on that one.
    â€œYou were saying, my dear?”
    She was aware of his hand. The man’s strength flowed through her like a current, bringing warmth and trust.
    â€œSo you see?” He released his grip.
    â€œOf course,” said Valerie. She wished he were still touching her.
    â€œNow, Sinclair, this is where you come in.”
    â€œ1?” said the bewildered girl. The excitement of the Cafe was wearing off.
    â€œYes, you,” stated the Commander, “if you will agree to help. I