Page 37 of Midnight on the Scottish Shore

37

If only the band of His Majesty’s Royal Marines would play a tune she could sing to. The BBC’s lively “Music While You Work” program was meant to stimulate productivity in factories, but Cilla kept pulling out stitches in the central figure in her fabric seascape. Instrumental music didn’t distract her enough.

A door thumped shut downstairs, and Cilla hauled in a breath. But the door was locked, no one was to be admitted without permission, and Gwen and Imogene were armed.

“It’s me, Cilla,” Lachlan called.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Cilla tucked her needle into the fabric, stuffed her project in her basket, and dashed around the Fresnel lens to the top of the stairs.

Lachlan climbed the stairs with his cap in hand, his gaze fixed on Cilla, his brow knit together.

As soon as he entered the lightroom, Cilla threw herself into his arms. “Jericho didn’t come. He’s out there.”

“I know. I willnae let him hurt you.” He pressed his cheek—a kiss?—to her temple. “I have news from Neil. Yardley said I could tell you.”

“From Neil?” Cilla looked up. Only inches away, Lachlan’s expression burned with intensity, warming her cheeks. She ducked her chin and stepped back.

“Have a seat, lass.” His voice came out soft but rough.

She sat at one end of the worktable, and he pulled a chair around to the side.

Lachlan clasped his hands together on top of the table. “Jericho went to the Claymore and Heath last night and approached Neil.”

“The pub?” Cilla wrapped her arms around her middle. “I—I mentioned the pub to Kraus, but why would Jericho go there? Why didn’t he meet me at the station?”

Lachlan mashed his lips together. “He didnae fancy reporting to a woman, so he went straight to Free Caledonia.”

“Oh no. Neil doesn’t know anything. And he doesn’t have a scarlet thread. Why would Jericho approach him?”

“Aye, he violated procedures. He told Neil he’d been sent to meet you.”

“He named me?” Cilla squeezed her eyes shut. Jericho was as indiscreet an agent as Arno Bakker would have been.

“He told Neil he’d been sent to help Free Caledonia commit sabotage, but of course Neil knew nothing about it. Then Jericho saw you get into Yardley’s motorcar and said you’d betrayed Free Caledonia.”

Cilla massaged her temples. “Worse. He thinks I betrayed the Abwehr. He knows I’ve turned.”

Lachlan’s silence said more than words. “Neil rang the police, but Jericho escaped.”

“He’s free, he has a wireless transmitter and a gun, and he knows I’ve turned.” Sparkles flashed on the backs of Cilla’s eyelids.

Chair legs scraped on the floor, and Lachlan rubbed her shoulders.

She pulled in a deep breath and pried open her eyes. “I refuse to panic. I’m locked in, under guard, and he’s only one man.”

“I’m armed too. If he comes to Dunnet Head, he’ll be arrested. Thanks to Neil, we have a description and so do the police.”

Lachlan’s warmth radiated from mere inches away, and she leaned into it, into him. God was with her, but she was glad Lachlan was with her too.

He rubbed circles on her upper back. “I’m sorry, but you’ll need to remain in the lighthouse until he’s captured.”

Outside, white clouds streaked the blue sky, and the seas stretched away to where they poured over the horizon. “It’s all right. There’s freedom in the trap.”

“Pardon?”

“My cousin Gerrit told me that. He’s a lot like you.” Steady, strong, quiet. “All my life I’ve thought freedom meant not having any rules or walls to stop me. This year I’ve faced walls like never before, but I’ve found freedom. True freedom—in faith and forgiveness.”

“Hmm.” Lachlan kept stroking her shoulders, and he didn’t pull away. “I like walls. Walls and rules protect, and that—that makes me feel free.”

“Security.”

“Aye, but it’s a false freedom. I may have been free on the outside, but inside I—I was imprisoned. Distrust. Resentment.”

“That’s changing.” Cilla nudged his side with her shoulder. “Especially with your brother.”

Lachlan cleared his throat, and he gripped her shoulder. “Neil met me at Brough today. He wanted to tell me about Jericho. And about you. He thinks you’re a spy.”

Cilla groaned and plastered her hands to her face. “Oh no. Your parents.”

“He didnae tell anyone, and Yardley put the fear of the OSA in his heart.”

“How much does Neil know?” Her voice strained.

“Far less than he wants to know, and far more than he should. But Yardley told him you’re on our side and can be trusted.”

“He did?”

“Aye, and Neil can be trusted too.” Conviction solidified his voice.

She lowered her hands and faced him. “You’ve forgiven him.”

“Aye.” He didn’t meet her gaze. “I need to tell him.”

“Tonight?”

“The morn. I willnae leave you alone.”

Cilla could have stayed in his half embrace forever, but he patted her shoulder and scooted his chair around the corner of the table again.

Lachlan pulled over a notepad. “We have work to do, lass.”

The warmth in her cheeks hadn’t receded. “Work?”

His cheeks were ruddy, and he uncapped his pen. “Yardley didnae give me instructions, but I know you’re sending Kraus a message tonight.”

“Last night I sent a short message that Jericho missed the rendezvous at the drop site and at the station, but I recovered his canister.”

“Good.” He wrote in the notepad. “I’ll list what Jericho has seen and heard, what he might transmit to Germany. We need to construct what you could reasonably know, and we need to explain what happened so you look loyal to Germany.”

Love for him swelled in her chest, in her throat, on her lips, but she clamped her lips shut.

The night before, Yardley told her if the police didn’t capture Jericho or if the Abwehr suspected Cilla had turned, MI5 would run down her case and intern her or shuttle her to another location.

With an uncertain future, telling Lachlan of her love would be more than foolish. It would be cruel.

****

Cilla laughed as Lachlan twirled her around to a dance tune on the Saturday Social on the BBC’s Forces Programme.

Gwen and Imogene had told them Yardley left Dunnet Head around four thirty. He hadn’t yet returned.

When Mr. Hall relieved Cilla at six o’clock, Cilla and Lachlan had gone downstairs to the top apartment in the lighthouse and Lachlan had brought up supper. They’d composed a message, but she couldn’t transmit to Kraus until Yardley approved it. And if she didn’t transmit tonight, Kraus would become even more suspicious.

Cilla had grown restless.

Lachlan had fetched her wireless from the lightroom, and the music and dancing and Lachlan’s reassuring company had done their work.

“I see you’re both impressed by the gravity of the situation.” Commander Yardley stood in the doorway.

Lachlan sprang away from Cilla and rubbed one hand over a bright red cheek.

Cilla gestured to Lachlan. “I was nervous, and he was trying—”

“We caught Jericho.” Yardley sauntered into the room.

“You did?” Cilla sank into a worn leather chair. “Thank goodness.”

“Aye, thank goodness.” Lachlan sat in another leather chair on the far side of the room, beside a case full of dusty old books.

Yardley turned off the wireless. “The police sent out his description. At the bus station in Thurso, a man meeting that description bought a ticket to Wick, and he didn’t understand English money. They delayed the bus until the police arrived.”

A huge weight released from Cilla’s mind and chest.

“I interrogated him for hours.” Yardley sat in a wooden chair at the round table in the center of the room. “Along with his Abwehr wireless set, we found the text of a message—both plain text and enciphered. Jericho confirmed that he transmitted it last night.”

“Oh no.” Cilla hugged herself.

“We anticipated that.”

“Can you turn him?” Cilla said. “Convince him to send another—”

“It’s too late. He already sent a message, and he refused to disclose his security key. Without that, we can’t even pretend to run his case.”

Cilla gripped the wool of her jumper. “He’ll be executed.”

Yardley inclined his head. “He’s on his way to Camp 020. They may convince him to cooperate, but not in time for your message tonight. We have a critical situation.”

“We know.” Lachlan rested his forearms on his knees. “We’ve been working on it.”

Yardley arched one eyebrow. “So I saw.”

Cilla clucked her tongue. “All afternoon we worked on it.”

That eyebrow remained arched. “You don’t know the contents of Jericho’s message or the information I want you to send.”

“No,” Cilla said, “but we need to explain why I got into a car with an English naval officer and why Neil knew nothing about the sabotage and didn’t have a scarlet thread. Anything else we need to cover?”

“Would Cilla know of Jericho’s arrest?” Lachlan asked.

“Not yet. Surely the story will be around town tomorrow, but it won’t be in the local newspapers until this Wednesday’s issue of the Caithness Courier . Neil will not be mentioned. All credit for the capture will go to the bus station.”

“Good.” Lachlan jutted out his lower jaw. “I dinnae want any suspicion on Neil.”

After Cilla gave him a warm smile, she grabbed the notepad from the table. “This is the story Lachlan and I created. Yesterday I waited at the railway station all day, but Jericho never came. I had to leave at five thirty for a date with Samson. I didn’t dare miss the date, or Samson would have been jealous. He picked me up by car in Thurso, and we drove to Castletown for supper.”

Lachlan leaned back in his chair. “That explains why Cilla was seen getting into a motorcar with a naval officer—you, Commander.”

Yardley nodded with his forehead stretched high. He approved.

Cilla stood so she could walk around. “This morning, I was returning to the station in case Jericho tried again, when I ran into Maggie and Fergus. Fergus was upset. Last night he went to the Claymore and Heath and talked to Neil.”

“We’ll give Neil another name,” Lachlan said as Cilla passed his chair. “Bruce perhaps.”

Cilla circled behind Yardley’s chair. “Bruce told Fergus a stranger asked if Bruce was in Free Caledonia. The stranger said he was Cilla’s friend, sent to help Free Caledonia commit sabotage. Bruce knew he was a spy. He called the police, and the spy fled.”

Yardley kept nodding.

Cilla tapped the paper. “Bruce is new to Free Caledonia, and Fergus and the others don’t trust him. They think he was planted by the police, so they never told him about the sabotage or about Jericho. And they certainly didn’t give him a red ribbon.”

Lachlan drew back his feet as Cilla passed.

“Last night at the pub, Fergus drummed up a fight with Bruce.” Cilla swung a fist through the air. “He pretended to be furious with Bruce for suspecting him of sabotage, and he booted him out of Free Caledonia.”

“Very good,” Yardley said. “Quite plausible.”

Cilla hefted up her chin. “I’ll express my outrage that Jericho violated procedure. He didn’t come to the proper meeting place and didn’t check for a red ribbon.”

“Aye,” Lachlan said. “She’ll say she’s worried because the police have his description, and Jericho has proven himself indiscreet.”

“Very.” Cilla put one hand on her hip. “I’ll say we’re continuing with the sabotage anyway. Fergus’s friend figured out the explosives. And please, Herr Hauptmann, do not send another incompetent to endanger my work.”

“Excellent,” Yardley said. “You two thought this through.”

“Didn’t I say so?” She raised her sweetest smile and set the notepad before him. “Here’s the text. We kept it concise, but I still have plenty of time to encipher it.”

“Very good.” Yardley leaned over the notepad, pen in hand.

Lachlan’s forehead furrowed. “Do you think they’ll send another agent?”

“They may.” Yardley crossed out a word. “Especially if they doubt Cilla’s story.”

“Would it be wise to keep Cilla under guard again?” Lachlan shot her an apologetic look.

“It’s all right.” She gave him a soft smile. “Not because you don’t trust me. For my protection.”

Lachlan’s eyes drooped. “Aye.”

“It would be wise.” Yardley scribbled something on the notepad. “For the time being, you’re not to leave Dunnet Head unless in the company of Mackenzie, one of the Wrens, or me. Carry your revolver, Mackenzie.”

“Aye, sir.”

Trapped again. And yet free.