“The reason we are called the Twenty Committee,” he said, “is because the name was first written in roman numerals. Two Xs. For double cross.”
“Okay,” I said. “You’re in the double-crossing business.”
“The greatest double cross of the war,” he said, “perhaps of all time. In a nutshell, Captain, we control all German spies who have been captured since the war began. Most we have turned against the Germans, using them to radio false information back to their masters.”
“Most?” I asked.
“You might be surprised at how many of these spies were quick to take us up on our offer. Cooperation and life. The few who didn’t were executed. It worked out well, after all, giving their spymasters in Berlin evidence that some of their number were captured, which they would expect.”
“But what about the ones that you didn’t catch?”
“That’s just the thing, Captain,” Masterman said, stopping to look me straight in the eyes. “We are fairly certain we have bagged them all. Each and every spy the Germans sent into Britain. Quite extraordinary, actually. We have Adolf’s best spies working for us, sending their own reports back by Morse code, as dictated by the Twenty Committee.”
“So what do you need me for?” I was still confused. This cloak-and-dagger stuff seemed right up Cosgrove’s alley, but I didn’t see how I fit in. We took a few steps along the canal, and Masterman took a deep breath.
“There is one thing we live in absolute fear of, Captain Boyle. That we could miss one enemy agent. If a German spy were to land on our shores now, as we prepare for the invasion, he could easily report back facts that do not coincide with the stories we have been feeding the enemy. Do you understand?”
“Sure,” I said, seeing the problem. “You’ve created a web of lies, and all that the Germans would need would be one loose spy to crack it all wide open.”
“Exactly,” Masterman said. “One of the dangers of counterespionage is that if the enemy determines that the information they’ve been given is false, they can draw certain conclusions about what is then actually true.”
“You’re giving them phony intelligence about the invasion site,” I said. “Or the date. And if they find out that it’s not the real McCoy-”
“Then they could deduce the real location and time, or close to it. A disaster.”
“But what do you need me for? I don’t get it.”
“Really, Captain Boyle?” Masterman turned around and began walking back to the inn. “A man of your skills? Certainly you can work it out.” He grinned as if coaching a backward pupil. I thought about it. Neville is killed. Cosgrove brings me in and tells me hands off George Miller. Cosgrove works with the Twenty Committee, which has corralled all the German agents who have landed in England. The Millers are German refugees.
“Jeez, of course!” I said as the pieces fell into place. “The Millers are spies. Real ones, I bet. You let them set up shop in case a new agent makes contact with them. And Neville was one of your agents, like Flowers and Morris.”
“Quite right. We discovered the truth about the Millers from two captured Germans. We let them set up their house, even helped them with resettlement funds. And then we surrounded them with watchers. You’ve seen how George Miller keeps one room always under renovation? That way he has a spot open if an agent makes contact.”
“So the Millers are not gathering information themselves?”
“No. Their role is to provide a safe house for arriving agents. They are under orders not to engage in suspicious activities themselves. So we let them be, the perfect trap for any German spy who manages to slip through. The next few months are critical, Captain. We need them in place, our unsuspecting spiders, to draw in the flies. We need to be sure there is no threat to them. We need to know who killed Neville, and why.”
“And if it was George Miller who killed him?” I wondered how big a mistake I’d made to mention Cosgrove’s name to George. I didn’t want to be taken off the case and sent to Broadmoor, so I didn’t mention it.
“I don’t believe it was. There was no indication that Miller had stumbled onto the fact Neville was anything but a quiet boarder. And Neville was a professional; he never would have let an argument or a petty squabble get out of hand. Our biggest worry is that it was a German agent, but we’ve no actual proof.”
“But if it was Miller, you’d let him get away with it,” I said.
“For now, of course. There are too many lives at stake. Justice will find the Millers for their crimes, of that you can be certain. When we are done with them.”
“The wife and children as well?”
“Oh yes, Frau Miller is a full partner in this enterprise. We aren’t sure about the children. The son Walter is kept busy on board a supply transport in the Mediterranean, and he hasn’t made any moves. Eva is perhaps too young to have been recruited. We think she is likely innocent.”
We were close to the inn, and I laid my hand on Masterman’s arm to stop him. “You know about the missing girls?”
“Yes, I’ve heard.”
“Neville had warned Eva to be careful. Now that makes more sense, given that he was a professional agent, trained to watch for anything unusual. I think he saw something that raised his suspicions, and told Eva to watch out. Maybe he was about to look into it further. Did he report anything to you?”
“Not about the girl, no. His reports went through Flowers, and he would have informed me of anything concrete. As you should do. Call this number if you have anything to report.” He handed me a card with nothing but a London telephone number-the same one Cosgrove had given us.
“What happened to Miss Gardner?” I asked, remembering her sudden departure.
“She has been transferred elsewhere. She was told not to provide you with any information, and when she did we needed to remove her. Just as we had your sergeant and the baron taken off the case. We must be sure that you, and you alone, are working on this, since you know the stakes involved. There can be no missteps.”
“What if it was George Miller who killed the girl we found in the canal?”
“As I said, justice will find him eventually. But for now, Captain Boyle, remember that many young girls are being killed in this war. We bomb cities at night and incinerate them all across Germany. French towns where there are military targets are bombed every day and many little French girls are blown apart. We are engaged in a ruthless, titanic struggle that consumes lives on a massive scale. One cannot worry about a single life without going mad. Find Neville’s killer, Captain Boyle, and all this will end one day.”
“You forgot the little girls in the extermination camps,” I said. I watched his face, saw the quick eye movement again, and then the curtain closed.
“No, I haven’t forgotten them,” he said, and turned in the direction of the inn. “There are those who see them as a political problem that might be best solved for us by the Nazis. Your Miss Seaton has taken it upon herself to convince one of those men otherwise.”
“You are well informed,” I said, following Masterman.
“I soak up what information I can,” he said. “I discard most, manipulate the rest, and send it on its way to create discord among our enemies. But this matter bothers me, I must say, and I wish Miss Seaton well.” He sighed, and his pace slackened.
“But you doubt she’ll succeed,” I said.
“I know she won’t,” Masterman said. “She will receive orders in the morning to report to an SOE training camp. Exile in remote Scotland for a troublesome agent.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. Masterman only smiled. “Can you do anything?” I was relieved at exile. Better than a parachute drop into occupied France.
“Not my department, Captain. It’s the Foreign Office that decides these things, and it has been decided at the highest levels that too many Jews making their way to Palestine after the war will not be good for relations with the Arabs. Fellows like Victor Cavendish-Bentinck and Roger Allen have convinced Anthony Eden not to raise the war cry over the camps. They claim it would harm the war effort if the British public thought we were fighting for the Jews of Europe.”