Daniel Silva - The Unlikely Spy

When Neumann's back was toward the pub, Colville shifted all his weight to his good leg and lunged. Neumann, surprised, couldn't get out of the way fast enough. Colville smashed into him and drove him back against the wall. It was like being hit by a speeding lorry. Neumann struggled to regain his breath. Colville raised his head viciously, catching Neumann beneath his chin. Neumann bit his own tongue and blood poured into his mouth.

Before Colville could strike again, Neumann raised a knee into his groin. Colville doubled over, groaning deep in his throat. Neumann raised his knee again, this time into Colville's face, shattering bone. Neumann stepped forward, raised his arm, and drove his elbow downward into the side of Colville's head.

Colville's knees buckled and he collapsed, barely conscious.

Neumann said, "Don't get up, Martin. If you know what's good for you, stay right where you are."

Then Neumann heard screaming. He looked up and saw Jenny running toward him.

That night Neumann lay awake in his bed. He had slept for a while but the pain had awakened him. Now he lay very still, listening to the wind beating against the side of the cottage. In the distance he could hear the rush of the waves against the shoreline. He did not know the time. His wristwatch was lying on the little table next to the bed. He rose onto one elbow, reached out for it, groaning with pain, and looked at the luminous face. Nearly midnight.

He fell back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling. Fighting with Martin Colville was a foolish mistake. He had endangered his cover and the security of the operation. And he had hurt Jenny. Outside the pub, she had screamed at him and beat her fists against his chest. She was furious with him for hurting her father. He had just wanted to teach the bastard a lesson, but it had all back-fired. Now, lying in bed, listening to the confused rhythm of the ceaseless wind, he wondered whether the entire operation was doomed. He thought of Catherine's warning on Hampstead Heath: Some things have gone wrong. I don't think my cover is going to hold up much longer. He thought of Vogel's order to conduct countersurveillance. He wondered whether all of them-Vogel, Catherine, himself-had already made fatal mistakes.

Neumann took stock of his injuries. He seemed to hurt everywhere. His ribs were bruised and tender-every breath hurt-but it appeared he had suffered no broken bones. His tongue was swollen, and when he rubbed it along the roof of his mouth he felt the cut on the surface. He raised his hand and touched his cheek. Mary had done her best to close the wound without stitches-going to a doctor was out of the question. He checked to make certain the dressing was securely in place. Even the lightest touch made his face pound with pain.

Neumann closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He was beginning to drift off when he heard a footfall on the landing outside his door. Instinctively, he reached for his Mauser. He heard another footfall, then the floor creaking beneath the weight of a body. He raised the Mauser and leveled it at the door. He heard the rattle of someone turning the latch. He thought, If MI5 was coming for me, they certainly wouldn't be trying to sneak into my bedroom at night. But if it wasn't MI5 or the police, who the hell was it? The door pushed back and a small figure stood in the open space. Neumann, in the dim light of his open shade, could see it was Jenny Colville. He quietly laid the Mauser on the floor next to the bed and whispered, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I came to see if you were all right."

"Do Sean and Mary know you're here?"

"No. I let myself in." She sat down on the edge of the small bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been through worse. Your father packs quite a punch. But then, you know that better than anyone else."

She reached out in the darkness and touched his face. "You should have seen a doctor. That was quite a cut on your face."

"Mary did an excellent job."

Jenny smiled. "She's had a lot of practice with Sean. She said that when Sean was young, Saturday night wasn't Saturday night unless it ended with a good fight outside the pub."

"How's your father? I think I hit him one too many times."

"He'll be all right. Oh, his face is a mess. He was never very good-looking to begin with."

"I'm sorry, Jenny. The whole thing was ridiculous. I should have known better. I should have just ignored him."

"The publican said my father started it. He deserved what he got. He's had it coming for a long time."

"You're not angry with me anymore?"

"No. No one's ever stood up for me before. That was a very brave thing you did. My father is as strong as an ox. He could have killed you." She removed her hand from his face and ran it across his chest. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"In the army."

"It was terrifying. My God, but your body is covered with scars."

"I've lived a very rich and fulfilling life."

She came closer to him. "Who are you, James Porter? And what are you doing in Hampton Sands?"

"I came here to protect you."

"Are you my knight in shining armor?"

"Something like that."

Jenny stood up abruptly and pulled her sweater over her head.

"Jenny, what do you think you're-"

"Shhh, you'll wake Mary."

"You can't stay here."

"It's after midnight. You wouldn't send me out into a night like this, would you?"

Jenny had removed her Wellington boots and her trousers before he could answer the question. She climbed into bed and curled up next to him, beneath his arm.

Neumann said, "If Mary finds you here, she'll kill me."

"You're not afraid of Mary, are you?"

"Your father I can handle. But Mary's another story altogether."

She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Good night." After a few minutes, her breathing assumed the rhythm of sleep. Neumann leaned his head against hers, listening to the wind, and after a few moments he slept too.

The Lancasters came at two o'clock in the morning. Vogel, sleeping fitfully on the army cot in his office, rose and went to the window. Berlin shuddered beneath the impact of the bombs. He parted the blackout curtain and looked out. The car was still there-a large black sedan, parked across the street, it had been there all night and all afternoon before that. Vogel knew there were at least three men inside, because he could see the embers of their cigarettes glowing in the dark. He knew the engine was running, because he could see the exhaust drifting from the tailpipe into the freezing night air. The professional in him marveled at the shoddiness of their surveillance. Smoking, knowing full well the embers would be visible in the dark. Running the engine so they could have heat, even though the worst amateur could spot the exhaust. But then the Gestapo didn't need to worry much about technique and tradecraft. They relied on terror and brute force. Hammer blows.

Vogel thought about his conversation with Himmler at the house in Bavaria. He had to admit Himmler's theory made a certain amount of sense. The fact that most of the German intelligence networks in Britain were still operational was not proof of Canaris's loyalty to the Fuhrer. It was proof of the opposite-his treachery. If the head of the Abwehr is a traitor, why bother to publicly arrest and hang his spies in Britain? Why not use those spies and, together with Canaris, try to fool the Fuhrer with false and misleading intelligence?

Vogel thought it was a plausible scenario. But a deception of that magnitude was almost unimaginable. Every German agent would have to be in custody or turned by the other side. Hundreds of British case officers would have to be involved in the project, turning out reams of false intelligence reports to be transmitted by wireless back to Hamburg. Could there be such a deception? It would be a mammoth and risky undertaking, but Vogel concluded it was possible.