Andrew Williams - The Interrogator

It was an immediate priority — ZZZ — signal from U-boat to headquarters where no doubt it was a source of much rejoicing.

‘And is there…’ Mary’s voice cracked a little, ‘…is there any news of the survivors?’

Winn shook his head then picked up a piece of paper from the desk in front of him: ‘Two or three families, fifty nurses, some RAF mechanics — specialists — thirty or so, 250 Army and Navy personnel, more than three hundred crew members with the ship’s gunners, and the cargo — aircraft parts and some ammunition. The RAF at Ascension is searching the area…’

He hesitated and glanced down at his desk as if to prepare Mary for distressing news and she felt the tight lump rise into her throat again.

‘I’m afraid no one picked up her distress signal and it was some time before they began the search… The weather was pretty bad. But they’re still looking…’

Mary’s hand was at her mouth, her bottom lip was trembling. She let her hand drop to her skirt and digging her nails into the brown wool she pinched her thigh until her eyes watered with the pain.

‘Are you all right?’ Winn asked.

‘Yes.’

‘We made the right decision with the intelligence we had on U-boat movements at the time. It’s not the first mistake we’ve made, Mary, and it won’t be the last… still…’

Pulling his small black-framed glasses from his face he placed them carefully on the desk, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. The smoke from his cigarette was curling up lazily from a glass ashtray and over the desk like a burnt offering before a temple Buddha. Mary sat and watched him lost in thought and the noise of telephones and raised voices in the Tracking Room filled the little office.

‘You know, we’ve had this sort of coincidence before and we’ve always dismissed it as cruel luck…’ His eyes were still closed, his face crumpled in a frown. ‘And perhaps it is, but I think we need to investigate this a little more…’ He reached for the last of his cigarettes.

‘The Imperial Star left the convoy on 31 July on her own course and was making good progress, travelling at something like fifteen knots. She maintained total wireless silence. The U-115 — the only enemy submarine south of the equator as far as we know — sank her six days later. Now the U-boat would not have had the fuel to follow her at that sort of speed for long, it must have come upon her almost at once. Imagine, many thousands of square miles of ocean — what sort of odds would you get on that happening? Unless…’

He picked up his glasses and slid them back on his nose with his forefinger.

‘Unless of course the U-boat knew where to find her…’

Mary leant forward, her right hand gripping the edge of his desk: ‘Do you believe that?’

‘I don’t believe anything until we’ve checked all we have on the U-115 ’s movements and been through the special intelligence for July and August. And we must speak to the Naval Section at Bletchley.’

Slowly, deliberately, he ground the last of his cigarette in the ashtray. The restless hum of activity from the Tracking Room washed into his office again. It was after eight and Hall from Trade would be with them soon. At nine there was the telephone conference with the Staff at Western Approaches in Liverpool.

‘We’re looking for anything that might suggest U-boat Headquarters knew the Imperial Star was leaving the convoy on an independent course. Then see if you can find a list of ships travelling alone that have been attacked by the enemy. Anything in the last three months that strikes you as strange.’

Mary was a little irritated by Winn’s cool, detached tone, as if it was some sort of academic exercise. So many lives were at stake, like those poor people in the Imperial Star ’s boats. But she knew she was excited too. It reminded her of how she had once felt in a muddy hole in Wiltshire when, after crawling down a tunnel, her torch had flashed round a stone chamber hidden for thousands of years.

‘Please be discreet.’ Winn must have read the excitement in her face. ‘Perhaps it was an appalling twist of fate, just the worst sort of coincidence, so we don’t want to cause a general panic — not yet anyway.’

Her lips twitched with amusement, a provocative little smile she was sure he would not be able to resist.

‘I know why you’re smiling: you’re thinking of Lieutenant Lindsay.’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t. This must stay inside the Citadel. If our codes are compromised then he may be able to help us but it’s too soon to say.’

‘And Mohr?’

‘Well, he isn’t begging to tell his story, is he?’

There was a polite knock at the office door. It was Freddie Wilmot with some tea. A large, ruddy, genial-looking regular was standing behind him — Commander Dick Hall of the Trade Division.

‘One of the clerical assistants can help you, Mary. Hawkins seems bright enough. I’m sorry about the tea. I expect it’s cold by now anyway,’ and he shot Wilmot an unfriendly look.

Mary got to her feet and was on the point of turning to leave when he leant forward a little and said in a confidential voice: ‘And you? Are you all right? You’ve been working very hard…’

It was a little late and a little clumsy but well meant and Mary smiled warmly at him: ‘No harder than anyone else. I’m fine now, Rodger, really.’

‘Good.’

Mary left him to the business of the day, U-boats gathering for a pack attack, a convoy sailing into danger, the battle fought hour by hour in the Atlantic, and as she watched him at the plot with Hall she felt something close to gratitude, even affection. She felt embarrassed too, cross with herself for losing control of her feelings. Own up to the loss, yes, acknowledge some responsibility, yes, but fight on, fight on. If she was not able to keep a cool head in the face of adversity she was no use to anyone. This was her life now, her mission.

‘All right, Hawkins. I want every signal sent by U-boat Headquarters since the beginning of May.’

‘Dr Henderson?’

‘And I want them now.’

At a little after midday the Germans broadcast a crowing report on the sinking of ‘a troopship’ called Imperial Star . There was no mention of the survivors. Winn sent Geoff Childs to tell her.

‘ Schrecklichkeit .’

‘What do you mean, Geoff?’

‘A terror sinking, don’t you think? Beastly Huns — it was the same in the First War — only the uniforms have changed.’

By then Mary had worked her way through two days of decrypted signals and found nothing. But Joan Hawkins was busy collecting more and Trade was pulling together a list of the independently routed ships sunk that summer. Then at six o’clock in the evening Winn came to see her with news that a lifeboat had been found more than two hundred miles from the last known position of the ship.

‘Thirty-eight people, four women and two children.’

‘And do they think there’s a chance of finding more?’

Winn shook his head. They stood in silence for a few seconds, unable to look each other in the eye, then he gave a wry smile:

‘Oh and I forgot to tell you, the Ministry of Shipping have complained to the Director. The minister wants to know why such an important ship was permitted to sail alone, unescorted, beyond the protection of a convoy.’

There was nothing to report at seven o’clock and nothing at eight and by nine Mary was convinced she must have missed something and would have to begin again. Joan Hawkins’s slight shoulders were bent over a desk, her head resting in her hands, her hair an unruly curtain in front of her face.

‘Go home, Joan.’