Page 40 of Midnight on the Scottish Shore

40

Dunnet Head Saturday, April 18, 1942

When both Commander Yardley and Cilla looked peely-wally, the news couldn’t be good.

Lachlan sank into his chair in the lightroom. “What’s wrong?”

“We have reached a crisis.” Standing beside the table, Yardley spoke in a somber tone. “Kraus rejected Cilla’s excuses for not reporting to Lisbon. On Monday, he ordered Cilla to meet a U-boat offshore on the night of the first of May.”

Outside, the sun shone in a blue sky, but the blackest of clouds passed over Lachlan’s vision. “We cannae allow that.”

“Of course not.”

Red rimmed Cilla’s eyes. “The Abwehr suspects I’ve turned. If I meet the U-boat, I’ll be interrogated. I—I don’t know how long I could hold up under torture—does anyone know? I might betray Double Cross.”

Lachlan folded his arms and gripped his biceps hard—the only way he could restrain himself from embracing her.

“We will not allow you to go,” Yardley said. “The Abwehr might suspect all their agents—as well they should—and the Allies would lose a potent weapon.”

“More importantly, Cilla would be tortured.” Lachlan glared at Yardley. “Executed.”

He glared right back. “As I said, we will not allow it.”

Cilla pressed her hand over her eyes. “If I went, I—I might be able to convince them of my loyalty. I can act. But then I’d also convince my friends in the Netherlands. Word would spread. Everyone would think I was a German collaborator. Then after the Allies win ...” Her voice shattered.

A chill crackled its way through Lachlan’s whole body. She’d be tried for treason.

Cilla’s mouth crumpled. “I’d rather die in German hands as an Allied agent than in Dutch hands as a traitor to my own country.”

“You cannae go.” Lachlan forced the words through his swollen throat. “You cannae.”

“MI5 will not even consider it.” Yardley gave his head a sharp shake. “We discussed this at length at the Twenty Committee meeting on Thursday.”

Cilla slapped her hand into her lap, revealing watery eyes. “Kraus will be on the U-boat. He said if I don’t come, he’ll take a boat to shore to fetch me.”

Yardley raised a grim smile. “We’ll be waiting for him.”

“And if he evades you?” Lachlan said. “Jericho did.”

“She has protection at all times.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” A tear wriggled down Cilla’s cheek, and she brushed it away. “What if he kills one of you? You, Commander—or Gwen or Imogene or—or Lachlan?”

Yardley let out a long groan. “You keep forgetting. If we believe Kraus knows you’ve turned, we’ll run down your case. We’ll put a notice in the paper about your untimely demise to a sudden illness or accident, and we’ll spirit you away.”

“To prison.” Lachlan ground out the words.

“To safety, Mackenzie.”

Cilla waved her hand before her face as if clearing smoke. “So soon after Kraus ordered me to meet him? He’d know for certain that I’m in Allied control.”

Yardley locked his gaze on Cilla. “But you’d be safe as would everyone on your case, and Double Cross would bear only the most superficial of wounds.”

“My family.” Cilla thumped the table with her hand. “Kraus told me if they find out I’ve turned, they’d send my family to a concentration camp. I won’t let that happen.”

“Never. None of these is acceptable.” Lachlan slashed his hand through the options. “But Kraus is telling us where the U-boat will be. We can send bombers and destroyers—”

“We could. And we could send them straight into a German trap.” Yardley raised one dark eyebrow at Lachlan. “If they suspect Cilla is in MI5 hands, they may expect such an attack and have a wolf pack of U-boats waiting for us.”

Lachlan had seen the damage a wolf pack could do. Hundreds of lives could be lost on the British destroyers. His head flopped back, and a strangled cry ripped out. “These are all unacceptable. We need to find a different—”

“We already have a plan, Mackenzie. And we’ve set it in motion.”

How had they found a path when Lachlan found roadblocks in every direction? He released a long breath and met the commander’s steady gaze.

“On Wednesday night,” Yardley said, “Cilla told Kraus she can’t meet the U-boat on the first of May, because that is the night she plans to commit sabotage at Scapa Flow. With so many pieces to her plan, she can’t possibly shift the timetable by even one day.”

“We hadnae set a date yet.” Lachlan swung his gaze to Cilla.

If she knew MI5’s plan, why did distress still crease her forehead?

“That was one of the dates we’d considered.” No distress marred Yardley’s voice. “The moon will be full and will rise only forty minutes past sunset. The same conditions that favor a rendezvous with a U-boat.”

Lachlan failed to see the plan.

Yardley strolled behind Cilla’s chair. “When Cilla learns the time for the rendezvous, she’ll tell Kraus she’ll schedule the sabotage for the same time, so the surfaced U-boat can observe the explosion. The sabotage will prove her worth as an agent, prove she can commit sabotage without further training. She will request that if she’s successful, they allow her to remain in Scotland.”

“And if they dinnae allow it?”

“Cilla will insist she can’t possibly be spared that night. She must help Free Caledonia with the explosives. Since the fishing boat can’t leave Scapa Flow until the following morning, she’ll tell Kraus she’ll make the rendezvous the following night.”

Lachlan frowned. Would Kraus permit an agent to give him orders?

Yardley gestured to the window, toward Scapa. “When Kraus observes the sabotage, the U-boat will wire the news to Hamburg, validating Cilla in Abwehr eyes. The next morning, I’ll allow the RDF at Dunnet Head to detect the U-boat—if it’s within range—and we’ll send out air and naval patrols. We will either sink the U-boat or drive it away.”

Lachlan held back an indignant huff. “What about the wolf pack?”

“The U-boats won’t dare stay close to shore. As soon as Kraus realizes Cilla can be trusted, the wolf pack will be ordered to disperse. And when Kraus’s U-boat is lost or driven away, Cilla will officially be excused. We can either continue her case or run it down with no risk to her family—on our timetable.”

The plan felt flimsy, but what else did they have?

“I must return to the station.” Yardley circled the table and poked a notepad in front of Cilla. “Your assignment today is to work out the final details of the sabotage plan, search for holes, and plug them. I trust you to do so.”

As Yardley’s footsteps receded downstairs, Cilla stared at the notepad, her mouth undulating like the waves far below.

“You dinnae fancy Yardley’s plan,” Lachlan said in his softest voice.

She shook her head, not lifting her gaze. “Kraus won’t believe me. We’ve planned the sabotage for the same night he’s ordered me to meet him? It’s too much of a coincidence.”

Lachlan winced. “We did consider that night.”

Her slim shoulders hunched up. “It looks as if I’m delaying, making excuses, disobeying his orders—which is exactly what I’m doing. He’ll know without a doubt. There are no—there are no solutions.”

“Wheesht, lass.” Lachlan shoved out of his chair, dropped to his knees before her, and gripped her hands in his. “I willnae let anything happen to you or your family. I willnae.” He could hear it—hear the love in his voice. And he didn’t care.

Her gaze dragged up to his, shimmering between blue and green, between trust and affection—and sadness. “I know. I know you would if you could.”

He couldn’t bear the grief in her eyes, in his heart, couldn’t bear the thought that he might not be able to protect her.

Lachlan enfolded her in his arms, pressed her head to his shoulder, and rocked her. Only the Lord could protect her.