All Jackdaws-20:30

Colgate Bunter-21:OO

Mr. Blister, Paradox, Saxophone-22:05

She looked at her watch. It was six-thirty. Two hours to go.

She sat at the bar and looked around, wondering which of them would come back and which would die in the field. Some were terribly young, smoking and telling jokes, looking as if they had no cares. The older ones looked hardened, and savored their whisky and gin in the grim knowledge it might be their last. She thought about their parents, their wives or girlfriends, their babies and children. Tonight's work would leave some of them with a grief that would never entirely go away.

Her somber reflections were interrupted by a sight that astonished her. Simon Fortescue, the slippery bureaucrat from MI6, walked into the bar in a pinstriped suit-accompanied by Denise Bowyer.

Flick's jaw dropped.

"Felicity, I'm so glad I caught you," said Simon. Without waiting for an invitation he pulled up a stool for Denise. "Gin and tonic, please, barman. What would you like, Lady Denise?"

"A martini, very dry."

"And for you, Felicity?"

Flick did not answer the question. "She's supposed to be in Scotland!" she said.

"Look, there seems to have been some misunderstanding. Denise has told me all about this policeman fellow-"

"No misunderstanding," Flick said abruptly. "Denise failed the course. That's all there is to it."

Denise made a disgusted sound.

Fortescue said, "I really don't see how a perfectly intelligent girl from a good family could fail-"

"She's a blabbermouth."

"What?"

"She can't keep her damn mouth shut. She's not trustworthy. She shouldn't be walking around free!"

Denise said, "You insolent cat."

Fortescue controlled his temper with an effort and lowered his voice. "Look, her brother is the Marquess of Inverlocky, who's very close to the Prime Minister. Inverlocky himself asked me to make sure Denise got a chance to do her bit. So, you see, it would be dreadfully tactless to turn her down."

Flick raised her voice. "Let me get this straight." One or two of the men nearby looked up. "As a favor to your upper-class friend, you're asking me to take someone untrustworthy on a dangerous mission behind enemy lines. Is that it?"

As she was speaking, Percy and Paul walked in. Percy glared at Fortescue with undisguised malevolence. Paul said, "Did I hear right?"

Fortescue said, "I've brought Denise with me because it would be, frankly, an embarrassment to the government if she were left behind-"

"And a danger to me if she were to come!" Flick interrupted. "You're wasting your breath. She's off the team."

"Look, I don't want to have to pull rank-"

"What rank?" said Flick.

"I resigned from the Guards as a colonel-"

"Retired!"

"-and I'm the civil service equivalent of a brigadier."

"Don't be ridiculous," Flick said. "You're not even in the army."

"I'm ordering you to take Denise with you."

"Then I'll have to consider my response," said Flick.

"That's better. I'm sure you won't regret it."

"All right, here is my response. Fuck off"

Fortescue went red. He had probably never been told to flick off by a girl. He was uncharacteristically speechless.

"Well!" said Denise. "We've certainly found out what type of person we're dealing with."

Paul said, "You're dealing with me." He turned to

Fortescue. "I'm in command of this operation, and I won't have Denise on the team at any price. If you want to argue, call Monty."

"Well said, my boy," Percy added.

Fortescue found his voice at last. He wagged a finger at Flick. "The time will come, Mrs. Clairet, when you will regret saying that to me." He got off his stool. "I'm sorry about this, Lady Denise, but I think we've done all we can here."

They left.

"Stupid prat," Percy muttered.

"Let's have dinner," said Flick.

The others were already in the dining room, waiting. As the Jackdaws began their last meal in England, Percy gave each of them an expensive gift: silver cigarette cases for the smokers, gold powder compacts for the others. "They have French hallmarks, so you can take them with you," he said. The women were pleased, but he brought their mood back down with his next remark. "They have a purpose, too. They are items that can easily be pawned for emergency funds if you get into real trouble."

The food was plentiful, a banquet by wartime standards, and the Jackdaws tucked in with relish. Flick did not feel very hungry, but she forced herself to eat a big steak, knowing it was more meat than she would get in a week in France.

When they finished supper, it was time to go to the airfield. They returned to their rooms to pick up their French bags, then boarded the bus. It took them along another country lane and across a railway line, then approached what looked like a cluster of farm buildings at the edge of a large, flat field. A sign said Gibraltar Farm, but Flick knew that this was RAF Tempsford, and the barns were heavily disguised Nissen huts.

They went into what looked like a cowshed and found a uniformed RAF officer standing guard over steel racks of equipment. Before they were given their gear, each of them was searched. A box of British matches was found in Maude's suitcase; Diana had in her pocket a half-completed crossword torn from the Daily Mirror, which she swore she had intended to leave on the plane; and Jelly, the inveterate gambler, had a pack of playing cards with "Made in Binning- ham" printed on every one.

Paul distributed their identity cards, ration cards, and clothing coupons. Each woman was given a hundred thousand French francs, mostly in grubby thousand- franc notes. It was the equivalent of five hundred pounds, enough to buy two Ford cars.

They also got weapons,.45-caliber Colt automatic pistols and sharp double-bladed Commando knives. Flick declined both. She took her personal gun, a Browning nine-millimeter automatic. Around her waist she wore the leather belt, into which she could push the pistol or, at a pinch, the submachine gun. She also took her lapel knife instead of the Commando knife. The Commando knife was longer and deadlier, but more cumbersome. The great advantage of the lapel knife was that when the agent was asked to produce papers, she could innocently reach toward an inside pocket, then at the last moment pull the knife.

In addition there was a Lee-Enfield rifle for Diana and a Sten Mark II submachine gun with silencer for Flick.