78

The grandfather clock in the hall downstairs chimed two. A mournful sound, in the quiet old house. A few seconds later, a smaller clock, higher-pitched, further away, gave the same report.

There was a knock on the door. Vaughn must have been waiting for the clock. Probably been walking around the house in his camouflage warpaint, rucksack on, counting down the seconds.

‘One minute,’ I said loudly. Let him know who was in charge.

Vaughn left, clomping through the house, rousing the others.

I stroked Margaret’s face.

‘They’ll use you as a hostage until it’s all done and dusted,’ I said to Margaret.

‘I’ll let them think that’s what they’re doing,’ she said.

‘If it all goes wrong ...’

‘I haven’t seen you worried before,’ she said.

‘I’m not worried. I’m about to lead a badly trained team of Nazi sympathisers to infiltrate the country’s most secret military installation. I’ll either get killed in the process, or we’ll succeed, and I’ll have helped the Germans with their invasion. What’s there to be worried about?’

‘You’ll figure it out,’ she said, and kissed me on the lips. ‘You’re a good man, John Cook.’

Vaughn came back, boots heavy on the floor. The door opened and he peered in.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Ready,’ I said.

Behind Vaughn, the remaining Blackshirt stood guard. He looked at Margaret and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile.

‘If you touch her,’ I said to him, ‘I’ll kill you.’