Chapter 8 Chapter VII

Flick landed at Tempsford, fifty miles north of London, an RAF airstrip near the Bedfordshire village of Sandy.She knew she was back in England just by the taste of the clammy night air in her mouth.She loves France, but this is her home. Walking on the airport, she remembered the scene when she returned from vacation when she was a child.When her mother saw her family's house, she always said that sentence: "It's good to be out, but it's better to be home." At this most unusual time, her mother's words came to her mind. A young woman in the uniform of an emergency nurse corporal was waiting for her in a high-powered Jaguar to take her to London. "What a luxury." Flick said, sitting on the leather seat in the car.

"I'll take you directly to Orchard Palace," said the driver. "They're waiting for your report." Flick rubbed his eyes. "Jesus," she said, seeking sympathy, "don't they think I need some sleep?" The driver didn't argue, but asked, "Did the mission go well, Major?" "Fuck it all." "Sorry, what?" "It's all fucked up," Flick repeated, "that's an abbreviation that means the situation is all fucked up." The woman stopped talking.Flick felt embarrassed by his words.Yes, she thought dejectedly, after all, there are girls who can't stand this kind of barracks swearing.

Day broke as the car sped through the Hertfordshire villages of Stevenage and Naperworth.Flick looked at the passing houses and the vegetables in the garden in front of the house, saw the ill-tempered female chief of the rural post office distributing small stamps, and saw all kinds of taverns, where there were all kinds of taverns. It's warm beer and a piano that's falling apart.She was deeply thankful that the Nazis had not been able to reach this far. This feeling made her even more determined to return to France.She is looking for an opportunity to attack the castle again.She thought of those who remained at Sainte-Cecile: Albert, young Bertrand, the beautiful Genevieve, and other warriors who had died or were captured.She thought of their families, who were wracked by the pain and anxiety of losing a loved one.She made up her mind that she would never let them sacrifice in vain, and all sacrifices will eventually require results.

She should jump into action immediately.It would be better to have her report right away, and today she will have the opportunity to present her new plan.The Special Operations people were cautious at first, because no one had ever sent an all-female team on such a mission.There must be obstacles of one kind or another.But there will be obstacles in doing anything. When they arrived in the north London suburbs, it was broad daylight and full of early risers, postmen and milkmen delivering goods, train drivers and bus conductors walking to work.Signs of war are everywhere, posters against waste, "No Meat Today" signs in the butcher's window, a woman driving a garbage truck, rows of small houses that have been bombed to rubble.But nobody here stops Flick, nobody asks her for papers, nobody throws her in a cell, tortures her for information, takes her to some concentration camp in a cattle truck, and stays there starve.Feeling the high tension of undercover life easing, she sank back in the car seat and closed her eyes.

When she awoke, the car had entered Baker Street.The car passed the number 64.Agents generally do not enter the headquarters building, in case they are interrogated, they will not reveal its secrets.In fact, many agents do not know its address.The car turned into Portman Square and pulled up outside the apartment building, Orchard Palace. The driver jumped out of the car and opened the door for her. Flick went inside, looking for the Special Operations floor.When she saw Percy Sweet, she was suddenly refreshed.It was a man of fifty, bald, with a toothbrush beard on his upper lip.He liked Flick like a father.He was in civilian clothes, neither of them saluted, and no one in Special Operations had the patience for military decorum.

"You can tell something's wrong by the look on your face," said Percy. His sympathetic voice made Flick unable to bear it any longer, and the tragedy that had just happened suddenly overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears.Percy put his arms around her and patted her on the back.She buried her face in his old tweed jacket. "It's all right," he said, "I know you tried your best." "Oh God, I'm sorry I'm such a crying girl." "I hope my subordinates are all girls like you." Percy said with words. She left Percy's arms and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Please don't mind."

He turned away and blew his nose on a large handkerchief. "Tea or whiskey?" he asked. "It's better to have tea." She looked at everything around her.The furnishings of the house are dilapidated, hastily arranged in 1940, and have not been changed since then.A cheap table, a worn rug, and a few chairs that didn't match.She sank suddenly into the sagging armchair. "I'll fall asleep if I get drunk." She watched Percy make tea.He's compassionate, but also tough.He was a veteran of World War I, led workers' strikes in his twenties, and participated in the 1936 Battle of Cable Street Battle of Cable Street, October 4, 1936, British fascists Politician Oswald Mosley organized the British Union of Fascists to march across Capo Street in London's East End.More than 250,000 local Jews, socialists, anarchists, Irish and communists assembled here, set up barricades, found sticks, stones, stool legs, and other objects as weapons, trying to stop the fascists Passage of marchers.Due to the rising sentiment of the rebels, Mosley finally abandoned his plan to demonstrate here in order to avoid large-scale bloodshed. , with the East Cockneys attacking the Fascists trying to pass through the Jewish quarter of London's East End.He'll ask all sorts of tough, nuanced questions about her plans, but he's also very open to other people's perspectives.

He handed her a cup of tea, with milk and sugar. "There's a meeting later this morning," he said. "I have to give my boss a briefing by nine o'clock. I'm a little tight." She took a sip of the sweet tea, feeling the euphoria of the energy she ingested.She told him all that had happened on the Place Sainte-Cécile, and he sat at his desk taking notes with sharp pencils. "I should have abandoned the mission," she said finally. "Antoinette had doubts about the information provided. I should have postponed the assault and sent you a radio notification that we were outnumbered."

Percy shook his head sadly and said, "But there's no time to delay. The attack is coming in a few days. If you had sent us a plea, I reckon it would have made no difference. What can we do? We can't send you more men. I think we can only order you to rush forward regardless. There must be an attempt, and the telephone exchange is too important." "Well, that's a consolation." Flick felt a little better thinking that Albert died because of her tactical error, but it didn't bring the dead back to life. "Is Michelle all right?" Percy asked. "It's a pain, but it's all going to recover." When Flick was recruited by Special Operations, she didn't tell them that her husband was a member of the Resistance.If they'd known this in the first place, they'd have moved her to other jobs.But that's not really confirmed, just her speculation. Visiting her mother in England in May 1940, Michel, like all able-bodied young Frenchmen at the time, was serving in the army, and the fall of France had left them stranded abroad.When she came back as an agent, she knew her husband's true identity. At that time, the organization had invested a lot of time and training in her. She was already very important to the Special Operations Division, and she would not just speculate that she had emotions. Get involved and fire her.

"Nobody wants to get shot in the back," said Percy thoughtfully. "People will think it was a shot while fleeing." He stood up. "Well, you'd better go home and sleep." Last sleep." "Wait a minute," said Flick, "first I want to know what we're going to do next." "I'm going to finish this report—" "No, I mean the telephone exchange. If it's important, we'll knock it out." He sat down again, looked at her with alert eyes and said, "What on earth are you thinking?" She took Antoinette's pass from her knapsack and put it on the table. "There's a good way to get in. It's a pass for the cleaners, and they go in every night at seven."

Percy picked up the pass and examined it carefully. "Smart girl," he said with a sense of admiration, "go on." "I have to go back." A look of pain crossed Percy's face, and Flick knew he was worried about her risking her life again.But he didn't say anything. "I'm taking a group this time," she went on. "Everyone has to have one of these passes. We'll go into the castle instead of the cleaners." "Those cleaners are all women?" "Yes. I need a women's group." He nodded. "There's no objection here—you girls are really good. But where do you get all these women? We're almost all trained guys there." "Approve my plan first, I'll go find the women. I'll go find the ones who got called to special operations, the ones who didn't pass the training courses, and whoever else, we should get those files and see them They were all dropped for whatever reason.” "The reason is that it's not physically suitable, or the mouth is too loose, or they like violence too much, and some are too nervous during skydiving training to dare to jump off the plane." "It's okay if they're all second-rate candidates," Flick said eagerly, "I can handle this." Another voice in her head said: Can you really?But she ignores it. "If our general offensive fails, we will lose Europe. It will not be possible to win it for many years. This is a turning point. We must use all our strength to deal with the enemy." "Can't you rely on those local French women, those resistance fighters?" Flick had this idea a long time ago, but she immediately rejected it: "If I have a few weeks, I can draw manpower from five or six resistance organizations to form a female group, but find them and send them to It takes a long time to get to Reims." "It's still possible." "Then we'd have to forge a photo pass for each woman. Those things are hard to do over there, and it would take a day or two here." "It's not as easy as you say." Percy picked up Antoinette's passport and held it up to the light of a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. "But you're right, people in our department can perform miracles." He put down his pass, "Well, just look for those who were eliminated." Flick felt a surge of triumph, and by saying that he was going to fight for it. Percy went on, "But even if you can find enough French-speaking girls, that's enough? What about the German guards? Don't they know the cleaners?" "Probably not using the same women every day - they have days off. The men never pay attention to the women cleaning behind them." "I can't guarantee that. The soldiers are sex-starved young men, and they pay attention to all the women they can get in touch with. I guess the men in the castle will also make fun and flirt with the young cleaners, which is the minimum. .” "I watched the women enter the castle last night. I didn't see any flirting." "In any case, you can't guarantee that the men won't notice that the whole group has a new face." "I'm not sure about that, but I'm confident I'll take advantage of this opportunity." "Well, what about the French in there? Those telephone operators are local French, right?" "Some were locals, but most came by coach from Reims." "Not all French people like the Resistance, you and I understand. There are others who support the Nazis. God knows, there are still a lot of fools in Britain who think that Hitler provided a strong modern government for everyone, although they have been listening lately How many similar strange talks have been seen." Flick shook his head. Percy had never been to occupied France. "France has been ruled by the Nazis for four years, and everyone there is waiting, you know, for the Allies to attack. Those operators won't say a word." "What if the RAF bombed them?" Flick shrugged. "Maybe there are a few who are hostile, but most of them will be submissive." "That's your wishful thinking." "Anyway, I think it's worth taking advantage of the opportunity." "You don't know how heavily guarded the basement entrance really is." "It didn't stop our offense yesterday." "Yesterday you had fifteen resistance fighters, some very experienced. Next time, you'll only have a few knockouts and losers." Flick played her last trump card. "Look, anything can go wrong, but so what? It's a cheap operation, and we're risking the lives of people who didn't contribute anything to the war anyway. What have we got to lose?" "I'm about to say this. I'll tell you, I like the plan. I'll take it to my boss. But I don't think he'll go along with it, for reasons we haven't talked about yet." "what?" "Only you are best suited to lead this group. However, this trip you just made should be your last. You know too much. You've been back and forth for two years, and you've been with most of the resistance in northern France. Organizations have contacts, we can't send you back anymore. If you are captured, you will give them all." "I know that," Flick said coldly, "so I keep suicide pills with me."