Page 34 of Midnight on the Scottish Shore

34

Dunnet Head Saturday, March 28, 1942

Lachlan climbed the spiral staircase in the lighthouse. Cilla was right. All he’d needed was a week to grapple with logistics and wrestle the impossible into the possible.

How had she managed to calm him down without discounting the legitimacy of his objections? She understood how he thought, how he worked. She teased him but respected him. What a remarkable woman.

Cloud-muted light shone through a window as he passed. Spring and summer would tear down the wall of stormy weather that had kept him away from Cilla. He dreaded seeing her more often, yet eagerness surged inside. His heart lay exposed and open, and she’d set up camp inside without realizing it.

In the lightroom, Yardley sat talking to Cilla, and Lachlan tamped down disappointment in not having time alone with her before the meeting.

Yardley stood and eyed Lachlan. “Do you have a plan?”

Lachlan didn’t mind going straight to business, but Cilla would, so he smiled at her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Her smile seemed dimmer than usual, and it fluttered.

What was wrong? He frowned at her and took his seat.

“Do you?” Yardley said.

“Aye.” Lachlan set his portfolio on the table. “I think it’s a solid plan, but watch for holes.”

“I knew you would,” Cilla said in a soft voice.

“Thanks to you.” He pulled notes from his portfolio. “Last week you mentioned the blockships. It reminded me of a conversation I had with Commander Blake recently. When the Churchill Barriers are completed, what shall we do with the blockships? Have them salvaged? Blow them up? We decided they’re a low priority, since they dinnae impede navigation.”

Standing by the table, Yardley spread his hands wide as if waiting to receive the plan.

Lachlan ran a finger down the page. “If we can convince the Germans to send the type of explosives needed to sink a ship, similar to our limpet mines, I could tell Commander Blake my contact with the Director of Naval Intelligence obtained a new type of German explosive and wants me to test it on a blockship. I’d choose a blockship in Weddel Sound. It has the most complete barrier.”

Yardley closed his eyes, smiled, and murmured his approval.

“Given my experience with explosives and salvage work before the war,” Lachlan said, “it’s entirely plausible.”

A twitch stole Yardley’s smile, and he shook his head. “If you were to conduct such a test, Blake would inform the other commands at Scapa. The explosion would be expected, and no one would suspect sabotage.”

“Not if I, as an overeager lieutenant, fail to submit my plan. Blake will approve in principle—I’m certain he will—but he willnae have approved the final details, the timing. I’ll plant the explosives myself, and when the blockship blows up—”

“Yes.” A smile burst onto Yardley’s face. “They’ll want heads to roll.”

“I’ll take full responsibility and explain my eagerness, explain how no harm was done since the region is sparsely inhabited. Blake will discipline me.”

Yardley grunted. “He may have you demoted.”

“Aye, but he willnae have me removed.”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t. We’ll have the DNI praise your work and say they placed pressure on you to act quickly.”

“Thank you.” Lachlan would lose the goodwill he’d built with Commander Blake over the past year, but the command itself would be held blameless.

Cilla leaned forward. “If you take the blame, how can we raise suspicions of sabotage?”

Clever lass, and Lachlan smiled. “The Admiralty cannae mention testing enemy explosives. They’ll issue a feeble statement about blowing up a blockship. That’ll raise the logical question of why? Why waste explosives and endanger the men who planted them, all to remove a wreck that’s no bother at all?”

Yardley chuckled. “They’ll blame a lieutenant, acting alone.”

“Oh.” Cilla’s eyes rounded. “It’ll sound as if they’re covering up, hiding something.”

“If the local press doesn’t raise the question of sabotage, we’ll plant an MI5 officer in Kirkwall to ask leading questions.” Yardley poked the table with his finger. “All we need is one newspaper article suggesting sabotage. Cilla will tell the Abwehr the Admiralty knows it’s sabotage but is covering up. ‘Samson’ can tell her this.”

Lachlan passed his notes to Yardley. “I want a promise that we willnae implicate Free Caledonia. I cannae abide innocent men going to prison.”

Yardley strolled behind Cilla’s chair, studying the notes. “Cilla will give Free Caledonia credit for the sabotage in her messages to the Abwehr, but we won’t implicate them here in Britain. Have you figured out how to transport Fergus and his friends to Scapa?”

“I have an idea,” Cilla said. “A fishing boat.”

“I had the same idea.” Lachlan gave her an appreciative nod. “Every day at Scapa, we open the booms to let the Orcadian fishermen in and out.”

“I’ve already given Fergus two fishermen friends in Free Caledonia.” Cilla wore a satisfied smile. “I’ve mentioned them for months, so it won’t look coincidental. I’ll give one of them a fisherman cousin in Orkney.”

“Aye.” Lachlan guided his pointer fingers together. “They can meet in the middle, transfer saboteurs and explosives, and hide them in the hold.”

“The next morning, they reverse the process,” Yardley said. “It’s plausible.”

Lachlan rested back in his seat. “All we need are the explosives.”

“Cilla has already requested them, and the Abwehr has agreed to send them.”

Cilla folded in her lips, lowered her head, and wrinkled her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Lachlan asked.

Yardley sniffed and leaned his shoulder against the window. “With the explosives, the Abwehr is sending another agent, an explosives expert.”

“Another agent?” Lachlan knifed his hand through the air. “Never. You must refuse.”

“She can’t refuse,” Yardley said. “This will require complex explosives, and Cilla received only rudimentary training. If she were a true spy, she’d welcome the help.”

“We cannae allow it.” Lachlan stared the man down. “What about Maggie, the lass who works for the salvage company? She’d know men who work with explosives.”

“Not German explosives. Cilla has no reason to refuse other than sheer pride.”

Lachlan’s shoulders sagged. “Or that she’s turned.”

Cilla raised shimmering eyes, and she nodded.

They could not let this happen. “A German explosives expert? We cannae allow this, cannae allow such a man to run free in Scotland.”

“No need to worry,” Yardley said. “The Abwehr will tell Cilla where he’s landing, and we’ll arrest him straightaway.”

“And if you miss him?” Lachlan shook his hand in Cilla’s direction. “He’ll be looking for Cilla.”

“We’ll intercept him.”

Cilla’s eyelashes fluttered, and her face reddened.

Lachlan’s chest heaved. If the spy evaded MI5 and suspected Cilla of being a double agent, she would be in grave danger. He had to protect her.