Connie Willis - All Clear

“There’s no need to turn round,” Stephen said, leaning out to look ahead. “The front of the line’s beginning to move.”

“You said you were late,” she said briskly, then yanked on the wheel, completed the turn, and shot back the way they’d come.

“I’m not that late,” he said. “And it would be a blessing if I missed the entire thing. It’s one of those utterly pointless conferences on what should be done to stop these rocket attacks.” He had the map out and was poring over it. “If we turn right at the next opportunity, it will take us—”

Straight back toward that V-1, she thought. “I know a shortcut,” she said, and turned left instead and then left again.

“I’m not certain this road …,” he said doubtfully, peering at the map.

“I’ve taken it before,” she lied. “Why is it pointless?” she asked, to prevent him from looking at the map. “Your conference. Or can’t you talk about it? Military secrets and all that?”

“It would be secret if there was anything to be done to stop them on this end which hasn’t been done already—anti-aircraft defenses, detection devices, barrage balloons, none of which has been at all effective, as you and your ambulance unit no doubt know.”

And none of which stopped the ones that are about to hit here, she thought, driving as fast as she dared to get them out of the danger zone. The lanes were narrow and rutted, and there was no room to turn. If they ran into a car going the other way …

Behind them, she heard a muffled explosion. The 12:56 V-1. She waited for a second one, which would mean it had hit the convoy, but it didn’t come.

Behind them, she heard a muffled explosion. The 12:56 V-1. She waited for a second one, which would mean it had hit the convoy, but it didn’t come.

“As I was saying, none of our defenses is at all effective,” Stephen said calmly. “The only way to stop them is to prevent them from being launched in the first place.”

The lane was narrowing. She turned off it onto another, which was just as narrow and even more rutted. She glanced at her watch: one o’clock.

She needed to get them out of the danger area before 1:08, when the second V-1 had hit the bridge. She drove faster, praying for a road to turn onto. They passed a field of barley and then an ammunition dump, which the convoy had probably originated from, another field, another, and then a small grove of trees. Beyond it lay a bridge.

Of course, Mary thought, and glanced at her watch again. 1:06.

We are all going to have whistles as Mr. Bendall thinks if we are buried, it will be useful to our rescues. This I consider quite useful, and if buried shall whistle with all my might.

—VERE HODGSON’S DIARY,

28 February 1944

London—26 October 1940

AS SOON AS THEY REACHED THE LANDING OF THE EMERGENCY staircase, Mike asked Polly, “What if the retrieval team was in Padgett’s looking for Eileen, just like we were?”

“But … they can’t have been,” Polly stammered. The idea that some of the fatalities might have been the retrieval team had never occurred to her. The possibility so knocked her back on her heels that for a moment it seemed entirely possible. It would explain why there’d been five casualties—the three there were supposed to be and the two-man retrieval team.

“Why couldn’t they have been?” Mike pressed her. “Who else could they be? You heard Eileen’s supervisor. Everyone who worked there had been accounted for.

And that would explain why they haven’t been found yet—because they don’t know there’s anyone to look for.”

“But they knew Padgett’s was going to be hit. They wouldn’t have gone—”

“We knew it was going to be hit, and we did. What if they saw us go in and followed us? If they didn’t realize we’d taken the elevator down, they might still have been looking for us when the HE hit.”

There was no reason why a retrieval team, like historians, couldn’t be killed on assignment. And if that was what had happened, then Oxford hadn’t been destroyed and Colin hadn’t been killed. And Mike hadn’t lost the war.

She wondered if that was why he was so determined that this was what had happened. Because, bad as it was, it was better than the alternative. On the other hand, it could explain why their retrieval teams hadn’t shown up, and why there were five fatalities.

You don’t know for certain that there are, she reminded herself. You need to find out. And soon, before Mike heard about the five.

I must go to the hospital tomorrow. And keep him away from Miss Laburnum and newspapers till then. He’d said they needed to check her drop and see if it was working. If she could take him there as soon as they got out of here—

“As soon as the all clear goes, I’m going back to Padgett’s,” he said. “I’ve got to tell them there may still be casualties in the wreckage. If it’s the retrieval team, they won’t be looking for them.”

“But you can’t—”

“I won’t tell them it’s the retrieval team. I’ll say I saw some people going in while I was waiting for Eileen. We can’t just leave them there. They may still be alive.”

No, they aren’t, Polly thought. Whoever it is, they’ve already been pulled out of the wreckage dead. But she couldn’t say that.

“We have to help them,” Mike said.

“We can’t—”

“Mike?” Eileen called from above them. “Polly? Where are you?”

“Down here!” Mike shouted, and they heard her start down the clanking steps.

“Don’t say anything to her about this till we know for certain,” Polly whispered to Mike. “She’s—”

“I know,” he whispered back. “I won’t.”

Eileen came down to where they were standing. “You weren’t leaving to go to the drop without me, were you?”

“Not a chance,” Mike said. “We were just trying to figure out what other historians might be here besides Gerald Phipps.”

“Why did you come down here to do that?”

“We didn’t want to disturb you,” Polly said.

Mike nodded. “We couldn’t sleep, and we thought we might as well make use of the time. Don’t worry. We wouldn’t go off and leave you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Eileen said shamefacedly. “I’m sorry. It’s only that I can’t bear the thought of being here all alone again.” She sat down on the step. “So have you thought of anyone?”

And you’d better come up with something quickly, Polly said silently, or she’ll know we’re lying.

“Yeah,” Mike said, “Jack Sorkin, but unfortunately, he’s on the USS Enterprise in the Pacific.”

“What about your roommate?” Eileen asked. “Wasn’t he doing World War II?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t do us any good either. Charles is doing Singapore.”

Oh, my God. Singapore! Polly thought. And if his drop isn’t working, like ours, he’ll still be there when the Japanese arrive. He’ll be captured and put in one of their prison camps. She wondered if Mike realized that. She hoped not. “Who else?” she asked to change the subject. “Eileen, what about the other people in your year? Were any of them doing World War II?”

“I don’t think so. Damaris Klein might … no, I think she was doing the Napoleonic Wars. What about the historian who was doing the rocket attacks?” She turned to Polly. “When did those begin, Polly?”

“June thirteenth of 1944,” Polly said, “which is too late to be of any use. We need someone here now.”

“And we don’t know who it was who did the V-1 attacks,” Mike said.

“But if we can’t find anyone else …,” Eileen said. “Mike, are you certain they didn’t say who it was?”

“They might have …,” he said, frowning as if trying to remember.