Enigma, p.8
Enigma, page 8
“Where do you want to go?”
“You said you thought the bombe room would be good. Then I’d also like to go to the security chief’s office and Commander Travis’s office.”
“Those last two are trickier. We’ll have to go through the main foyer or the cafeteria to get to them and they’ll both be filled with people,” I said. “And we’re not exactly dressed to go unnoticed.”
Being in black with mud smeared on our faces worked well out in the dark, but it was hardly the way to blend in with people on the inside.
“We’ll move as fast as we can and get as far as we can before somebody tries to stop us,” our father said. “The fact that we’ve already gotten this far without being detected means something. Lead away.”
I took us down the hall and then cut through the first open door, which led us into a passageway. I’d been told that big old Victorian mansions always had servants’ corridors for the household staff to take so that the owners didn’t have to mingle with the help. And here it was—a passage that not many people at Bletchley even knew about, that Sally had shown me. We used it to deliver mail when the main corridors were too crowded. Travelling through here meant we had a better chance to get to the bombe room before anybody discovered—A door opened and a man popped out. He looked at us, did a double take and skidded to a stop.
“I guess we’ve been discovered,” my father whispered.
“Discovered but not stopped,” Jack whispered back, and then, more loudly, “Excuse me, could you come here, please?” Jack gestured for the man to approach.
The fellow hesitated for a split second and then walked toward us. Jack smiled and held out his hand as if to shake, and the man did the same.
“Bang!” Jack said as he took the man’s hand.
“Excuse me?” the man asked, more than a bit startled.
“Bang … although technically it would have been a knife instead of a gun. Much quieter, but you’re dead just the same.”
The man now looked confused, and he tried to pull his hand away but Jack held firm.
“I get it,” my father said to Jack. He turned to the man. “Don’t you think it would have been smarter to walk away, or even run away, when you saw the three of us dressed like this?”
“I didn’t really think about it.” His confused look suddenly took a turn for scared.
“We’re doing an exercise to see if we could break in,” I explained.
“Oh, I see,” he said, although judging by his expression he really didn’t. At least he seemed a little relieved as Jack finally released his hand.
“Could you please do us an official favour,” my father asked, “and sort of stay dead … don’t mention this to anybody until the exercise is over?”
“Certainly, I can do that,” he said. “Dead men tell no tales, as they say.”
“Thank you,” my father said. “We’d better let you get on your way, and we’ll get on our way.”
“Where are you heading?” the man asked.
“The bombe room,” my father said.
“Excellent choice!” he exclaimed. “Good hunting!”
He disappeared down the corridor in the opposite direction.
“Do either of you know him?” my father asked. We both shook our heads.
“Then he probably doesn’t know any of us,” my father said. “We could have been enemy agents, and he wouldn’t have done a thing.”
“Not the best security,” Jack said.
“That’s for sure,” my father said. “Now let’s get going, and we’ll make a point of killing whoever else we meet along the way.”
My father looked down at the floor while my mother continued to yell at him—at all of us. She was alternating between angry and hysterical, and whichever one she was I wanted her to be the other. I was trying hard not to make eye contact while still letting her know that I was paying attention.
My brother, father and I had gotten back to the guest cottage just before two in the morning. We were all pretty happy. We’d destroyed the bombe room and two huts, gotten to the commander’s office and even strolled through the cafeteria—and nobody had stopped us! Most of the people scarcely noticed us, and those who did notice us didn’t do anything about it. It was as if there were always so many new people around, and people doing unexpected things, that the three of us, even dressed in black with mud covering our faces, didn’t seem that out of place.
We had accomplished what we’d set out to do and that made us very happy—a happiness that ended the second we got in the door. Judging from the way my father was acting I think he would rather have been back in Africa facing Rommel and his Panzer divisions than having my mother angry at him. Actually, angry was okay, it was the tears that were hard.
“Do you have any idea how much you three scared me?” my mother asked again.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” my father said. “We are all so sorry.”
Jack and I nodded our heads solemnly and enthusiastically, trying to look apologetic.
“I thought you were all kidnapped, or dead or—” She burst into tears again, and my father tried to comfort her, but she brushed his arms away.
“Not that this is any excuse,” my father said, “but we thought we’d be home long before you got back or we never would have—”
“Never would have told me what you did?” she demanded.
“Never would have worried you. I would have told you.”
“Told me that you brought our boys along on a fool’s mission? You put them—you—in danger.”
“We’ve been in situations a lot more dangerous than that,” Jack said. “Lot of times, me and George have faced things that—”
She started sobbing even louder. Jack looked even sorrier.
“The important thing is that we’re safe,” my father said. “And believe me, we won’t do that again.”
“I can’t believe any of you,” she said. “It was bad enough when I only had two boys to try to keep out of trouble.” “I’m so sorry, dear.”
“You could have gotten yourself and your sons shot! Those guards do carry guns, you know!”
“I was only doing my job, the way you were doing yours,” my father said. “By the way, why did you come home before the end of your shift?”
“I received a message,” she said. “An important message.”
We waited for her to continue, but she didn’t seem in any rush.
“I feel so upset … I don’t even know if I’m going to go,” she said.
“Go where?” my father asked.
“Tomorrow, at one o’clock, we have an audience with Louise and her family.”
“I’m going to see Louise!” Jack exclaimed.
“A car is being sent around to pick us up.”
“In that case,” my father said, “maybe we should all go to bed. I have to be up early enough to tell the security chief exactly what happened tonight before we leave.”
“Yeah, we’d better get to bed,” Jack said. He got to his feet and I did the same.
“You two are not going to bed,” our mother said. “At least not until you go and wash up. Look at you! Were you wallowing in a pigpen? You are both filthy!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MY MOTHER WAS TRYING to give us the silent treatment—still angry about last night—but it wasn’t working very well. She was too excited. Maybe the only person more excited was Jack, but he was working very, very hard—and just as unsuccessfully—not to show it. I’d already caught him at the bathroom mirror first thing in the morning fussing with his hair.
Jack and I were dressed in our best brought-from-Bermuda clothes—starched white shirts, jackets and black dress pants, and ties borrowed from our father. My mother had carefully ironed out the wrinkles, made us polish our shoes till they shone, and personally scrubbed the last little bit of mud from behind our ears. She was wearing her pearls with her best “going to church” dress, topped off with white gloves and a hat and her newest handbag. My father had it the easiest. He was wearing his captain’s uniform, and he looked pretty sharp. I would have liked to have been in a uniform, too.
Now we were in the car that had been sent for us, with our own driver, and feeling pretty special as we sped along the roadway toward … well, they hadn’t actually said where we were going, exactly.
“The countryside is very beautiful,” my mother said. “It’s all so lush and green and peaceful.”
“It’s hard to believe there’s even a war going on,” my father said.
“I think that’s why members of the royal family stay out here, away from the city,” she replied.
“Or send their kids to Canada or Bermuda,” Jack added. “I know Louise is just glad to be home with her family.”
Louise had returned to England the night after the attempted kidnapping. Obviously the Nazis knew who she was, and where she was, so Bermuda wasn’t safe for her anymore. How ironic that she’d been sent from England to Bermuda to get away from danger, and it had followed her all the way across the Atlantic Ocean!
“You two have certainly been keeping the postman busy,” my mother said to Jack with a smile.
My mother seemed quite taken by the idea of her son having a “sweetheart.” Of course, comments like that only made Jack cringe with embarrassment. As for me, I thought the whole thing was stupid. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Louise, but what was the point in having a girlfriend who lived so far away, separated by an ocean filled with enemy U-boats? Besides, she was royalty, and Jack, well … wasn’t. I was only twelve but I was smart enough to know there was no future in this. No future and no present—just a past, and how long would that last?
We’d been in the car for over an hour already and the driver, friendly and open about everything else, had explained that he couldn’t tell us where we were going or how long it would take. And with all the signs taken off the roads, we didn’t have much of an idea where we were other than in the countryside somewhere. I’d hoped we were going to London, but it seemed as if we were heading even farther into the country.
The car slowed down and made a turn. I gawked and strained my neck to peer out the window. We were driving through lush, well-tended gardens and up ahead was a massive stone building—a castle!
“We have arrived,” the driver said.
“Louise lives in a castle!” Jack exclaimed.
“Not a castle,” the driver said. “ The castle. This is Windsor Castle.”
“Windsor is the home of the King!” my mother said.
“One of his homes,” the driver said. “Since the war began, many members of the royal family have taken refuge at Windsor.”
“I guess it’s big enough to hold a whole lot of people,” I said.
“At present there are more than eight hundred people who live and work at Windsor.” “It must be huge!” I said.
“The castle itself, excluding the grounds, occupies thirteen acres. It has been continually expanded by successive English monarchs since it was originally established by William the Conqueror in the eleventh century because of its strategic position on the Thames.”
“Is there anything in Canada that old?” I asked my parents.
“I’m sure there are some things that the original people built, but our country is officially only seventy-six years old,” my father responded.
“Do you know what they call something seventy-six years old in England?” the driver asked.
“What?” I asked.
“Newly constructed.” He laughed. “This is the longest-occupied palace in the world.”
“So we might see the King or his family today?” my mother asked.
“You might, but it’s not likely. He and his family spend most of their time in London at Buckingham Palace.”
“It’s an inspiration to have him staying right there to face the bombing,” my father said.
“Although it might be better to send his family away to a safer place,” my mother added.
“He would have liked that,” the driver said. “But I understand the Queen has said that Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret wouldn’t leave without their mother, and she wouldn’t leave without the King, and the King would never leave.”
“How bad is it in London?” my father asked.
“It’s a bit like living on the side of a volcano.”
“How’s that?” I asked. When I thought of London I didn’t exactly think of volcanoes.
“A volcano doesn’t have to erupt very often to have you afraid all the time. The bombings are far less frequent, but they still happen more than anybody would like, and with deadly results. Whole sections of the city are nothing but ruins.”
“And are people still sleeping in the underground, in the Tube stations?” my mother asked.
“Safest place. Some nights there have been hundreds killed by the bombs.”
“Awful, just awful,” she said.
“It is. War is terrible enough when it’s soldiers killing soldiers, but most of the casualties in London have been civilians, women and children.”
“Do you think we’ll get to London?” Jack asked.
“It sounds as though it’s far too dangerous,” my mother said.
“During the day it’s not dangerous,” the driver said. “The bombers only come at night.”
“So we could go during the day?” I asked.
“It would seem wrong to come all this way and not see London,” Jack agreed.
“Well … we’ll see,” my father said.
My mother didn’t look happy but she didn’t argue.
The car pulled up to a large door at the front of the castle. “Here we are. Welcome to Berkshire … and to Windsor Castle.”
I sat very silently, trying not to spill my tea or get scone crumbs on my clean shirt as the adults made polite conversation. We were all sitting together in a very formal and fairly chilly room with big windows. I guess it seemed formal because everything was so clean and tidy. And there were no personal touches, no knick-knacks or photos in frames, just vases of flowers and a very grand silver teapot that looked as if it might weigh about fifty pounds. Fortunately I didn’t have to pick it up because a servant had carried it in on a tray and poured for us.
Louise’s parents sat in armchairs on one side of the room, my parents were across from them, and I sat across from Louise and Jack, who shared a small settee. I wasn’t really following much of the conversation—too much talk about too little that interested me.
When we’d met Louise’s parents, my mother had tried to curtsey and Louise’s mother had stopped her and insisted that they all call each other by their first names. She thought being the “Duke” and “Duchess” was rather stuffy. She and her husband seemed nice enough—friendly, and interested in hearing about our home in Canada and what we thought about Bermuda.
Jack wasn’t talking much. He was sort of trying to stare at Louise without being obvious about it. If he’d been smart he would have sat where I was sitting. Side by side didn’t mean much, because it wasn’t like they were going to hold hands or anything—at least I hoped Jack was smart enough to realize that.
“We are so pleased to hear that your stay in England has been extended,” Louise’s mother said.
“Yes, we could be here for at least two months,” my mother replied.
“I hope that means I can see you more than just this one time,” Jack said shyly to Louise.
Louise gave him a big smile. I’d kind of forgotten how pretty she was. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to tease him about liking her!
“Perhaps another meeting or two can be arranged,” her father said. “We all have commitments so it might be difficult. Windsor is not that easy to get to without a driver.”
“But London is,” Louise said. “I’m often in London, and Bletchley is just a train ride away.”
Her father turned to mine. “Yes, I’d been told that you work at Bletchley,” he said. “I’ve heard there are some interesting goings-on up there. What exactly is your assignment?”
“We can’t tell you that,” I said.
My mother looked shocked. “George, where are your manners?”
“Sorry,” I said. I turned back to Louise’s father. “We can’t tell you, sir.”
He burst into laughter. “I should have known better than to ask. We can’t even tell our daughter what we do. I suppose during wartime many of us are called upon to play important roles that will never be widely known.”
“Although, as a mother, I can’t imagine anything more important than the role you played in saving the life of our daughter,” Louise’s mother broke in.
“We just did what we had to do,” Jack said, glancing sideways at Louise and blushing a bit. “We couldn’t stand back and let those stinky Nazis harm your daughter.”
I thought, Stinky… is that the word to use? It made them sound more like bad cheese than evil killers.
“You are both very brave young men,” Louise’s father said. “And George, you’ve recovered completely from being shot?”
“I wasn’t really shot,” I said. “ More like grazed by a bullet. It went right by my head, right here.”
I showed them the scar, though you could barely see it since most of the hair had grown back. It didn’t really bother me at all, although for the first month or so it had been sore and itchy.
“Still, just to have a gun aimed at you, it must have been terrifying,” Louise’s mother said.
“It all happened so fast I really didn’t notice. It was all just a flash, a blur, and then I woke up in the hospital.”
“Having had the adventure of a lifetime,” her father added.
“Not really. I don’t think that was even the scariest thing that’s happened …” I let the sentence trail off. I couldn’t tell him anything else without violating the Official Secrets Act.
“Our son—our sons—have had the misfortune to have been involved in many incidents,” our mother said, “and the good fortune to have survived them all.”
“We will try not to ask any more questions you can’t answer,” he said. Then he turned again to our father. “I can see by your medals and ribbons that you, sir, were stationed in North Africa.”
