‘And how are they?’ he asked politely.
‘As well as can be expected.’ Maybe she answered too quickly. ‘My father is poorly, however.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘Does this mean you intend to stay a long time in Scotland?’
‘That is difficult to say.’
‘What do you mean, Frau Richter?’ asked Mr Brown with a puzzled look.
‘I have loyalties to my parents of course, but I also have loyalties to my son and my in-laws in Germany.’
‘I understand. And your national loyalties?’
Fear flickered through Hilda and she thought swiftly and carefully before replying. ‘I have lived in Germany since 1910. For twenty-eight years, I have been German in voice and culture, and I am now the widow of a German medical doctor. I am a proud mother of a fine young man in the army bringing Germany back to its rightful place in Europe and standing up against aggressors.’
Mr Brown smiled then nodded. ‘Just what Herr Eicke said you’d say.’
She found what he said slightly ambiguous. ‘I am sorry, what did Herr Eicke say?’
‘He said I’d find you loyal to Germany, and I am of that impression too.’ He nodded his head vigorously.
‘You say it’s just an impression? I am stating facts,’ she said, leaning forward and placing her fist on the table.
‘Indeed you are right,’ Mrs Brown said. ‘Remember sometimes our English is not up to a perfect standard.’
‘I am surprised, many would think you were from South Africa.’
Both Mr and Mrs Brown smiled broadly. ‘Our diplomatic post before London was in Pretoria.’
‘I see, yes I thought there was some connection. Your German is not as hard as many speak. However, I am glad you find no need to interrogate me. Herr Eicke did that before I left. I know the penalty if I let him down.’
‘And that is?’ asked Mr Brown, raising his eyebrows.
‘He’d make sure my brother and sister-in-law had a hard time.’
‘And Otto?’
She thought through his question for a moment. ‘No, my son has done well in the Hitler Youth and he is keen to do well in the army. Eicke has no concerns about Otto. As a mother, of course, I have my worries, but I know he is a good young man and I love him dearly. I can assure you I know where my interests and my heart belong, Mr Brown.’
He smiled and glanced over at his colleague, who nodded. ‘I mentioned earlier your need to be in touch with Herr Eicke,’ he continued. ‘That is why I sent you the letter.’
‘Yes, I did get it of course. I read it thoroughly too.’
‘Did you understand it?’
‘I saw it was a code and I have tried to learn it.’
‘Good.’ He stood up, and from what might have been – and originally was, in all probability – a wooden box of cricket wickets or a croquet set, he lifted out a square box. Mrs Brown took up a vantage point by the door, ensuring that nobody approaching would disturb them.
‘This will be your equipment. A Delphin 7 secret radio direct to Herr Eicke. It has a range of just over eight hundred miles: sufficient to reach Hamburg from here. It is a crystal set with one valve. You insert the valve here.’ He pointed to a socket. ‘This is the handle key. Try it.’
She tapped it a few times.
‘Despite only eight hundred miles, will it give a good signal?’
‘Ours works adequately, with the occasional faint signal. I’m sure yours will too.’
This was the reality of espionage. She was now in the dark, alien world of deceit. A shiver ran through her.
‘This switch marks the transmit/receive position. These are the headphones. You can adjust them to make them comfortable. This is their socket. Now let me turn it around. This is the socket for the aerial. When you plug it in here, you will be ready to operate it. A four-watt battery light will come on. You start with your call sign.’
‘I see. I have a call sign?’
‘Yes, but you are impatient. I want you to go over what I have said. You must be familiar with its operation. You will be on your own.’
She spent the next ten minutes examining the function of each button and switch. Finally, both Mr and Mrs Brown seemed satisfied with her progress.
‘Now put the radio back in the box.’
She did as instructed. She hoped that was the end of the lesson, but she was wrong.
‘Sit down. Now I want you to get the radio out, set it up. Wait two minutes as if you were sending a message and then unplug the sockets as quickly as you can and put the radio away.’
She obeyed, trying not to show any nervousness, but her fingers fumbled as she inserted the aerial plug. She completed the task and returned the radio to the box.
‘That’s good. Just under three minutes, very good. You’ll get quicker over time. That is important. You realise as soon as you transmit, there might be someone trying to locate your signals, even here in rural Scotland? Speed and accuracy, stealth and calmness, these are the qualities you must possess to be a good agent.’
She gave him her best acquiescent smile. ‘I will work hard on the codes.’
‘Where will you operate?’
She had not given this matter any thought. She wondered what his ideal location might be.
‘Late at night, I could transmit from the attic in the hotel where I live. I’d not be disturbed.’
Mr Brown nodded. ‘And in the open?’
‘That would be if I could safely travel with the box. I know it is not large but it would be obvious. I would have to think that question over. Transmitting is about secrecy and I can’t sacrifice that.’
‘Good, you understand.’ Mr Brown took a deep breath. ‘You asked me about your code. It is Avalon, you are Avalon. Memorize it.’
A violin came to mind. That could be one way to remember it, just two letters different. A violin, music, seemed appropriate. ‘I can make an association,’ she told him.
‘Good. Now for Eicke… he’s Muskel.’
‘Perhaps I can write them down and keep them in my purse till they have settled in my mind.’
‘I’m not keen that you do that. If you must, destroy the note as soon as you can. Or try to learn it this way: a very able lad orders nine.’
She did not understand. ‘Orders nine what?’ she asked.
He smiled. ‘Think,’ he said. Then he repeated the phrase, stressing every initial letter. ‘A Very Able Lad Orders Nine. AVALON. Do you think you can work on the codes very soon?’
‘Yes, I am sure I can.’ Then almost instantly, she said… My Uncle… Sells Keys… Every Lunchtime.’ She laughed. So did the Browns.
‘MUSKEL… very good. Then I can tell Herr Eicke to expect you to send him a message next Wednesday at 10 p.m., 22:00 hours? Got that?’
‘I look forward to it.’
They smiled. They were in total accord.
‘Perhaps we can have some lunch now,’ said Mr Brown.
Lunch was a plate of soup and a salmon salad. The salmon came from Loch Cluanie, the menu proudly stated. They sat in the lounge to drink tea afterwards. The Browns felt drinking tea was quintessentially British. They would have preferred coffee, but that was one of the rules of espionage, they told her. ‘Be like the indigenous. Don’t show your roots.’
Hilda lowered her voice. ‘I presume you are not really Mr and Mrs Brown. I also don’t think somehow you will be going sightseeing to Dornoch tomorrow either.’
Mr Brown grinned. ‘Dornoch?’ he said.
‘Hmmm… You’ll make a good spy. Germany will be proud of you,’ said Mrs Brown in a whispered voice while folding her napkin.
Chapter 7
A Dying Secret
She felt awkward carrying the wooden box. It was not particularly heavy, but it was rather cumbersome. The Browns had given her a large shopping bag to carry it in, and a winter scarf concealed it for the journey home. By the time she reached the Commercial Hotel, it was dusk. Should she be challenged, she had already prepared her explanation.