Sea Gem (28 page)

Mary spotted his long, swinging stride and studied him carefully as he came along the pavement. He had matured beautifully with the elegant manners and bearing of a distinguished gentleman and
he lived in some style.

Once Mary had taken the trouble to work out what he had received from them in legal fees and retainer payments and even she had been astounded at her total. It was not that she begrudged one
penny because James was good indeed. He was foxy, extremely well versed in law, with a razor-sharp mind which instantly spotted a problem and which could, just as rapidly, come up with an answer.
She had learned to lean heavily upon him in the last ten years.

She knew that James, Emil and Victor were all of an age and old drinking companions but James was elegant compared to the other two. Emil had become dignified but a little ponderous with his
promotion though James had once hinted to her that Emil was not a man who should be underestimated. As he gave her this warning, Mary sensed a silent something else that put her on her guard. Did
James or Emil guess she kept a pistol? If Emil wanted to find out, an appropriate search warrant would have to be obtained by which time the little derringer would be long hidden. Since that
oblique warning Mary had watched her tongue when near Emil.

When she attempted to make a comparison between the three men, one thing did stand out. James was a handsome, polite, well mannered gentleman. Emil was a suspicious, inquisitive police officer.
And Victor? Victor, despite his fine clothes and impeccable manners, was a wild, rakish pirate compared to his friends. Victor had a silent presence that could dominate a room without a word
spoken. He was known as a clever business man whom none tried to fool because he was very capable with his fists to settle a dispute if necessary. Mary never ceased to think he was indeed exactly
like Heathcliff.

‘James!’ she said as the lawyer reached her, offering her hand.

‘I’m glad to see you, Madam,’ he replied meaning it. She was his favourite client and in the past ten years he had studied her carefully. She was sound, reliable, though, a bit
dogmatic if in the wrong mood and seemingly unafraid of no one. Surely this made her into the perfect person for him? The trouble was though, how would she react? Now he would find out.

‘Shall we stroll up the hill?’ he suggested. ‘There’s a seat at the top and it’s highly unlikely it will be occupied this early in the spring.’

Mary was thoroughly mystified but had no intention of asking premature questions. He would speak when he was ready but she doubted now there could be a problem with the business. Sitting on a
form with grass underfoot, overlooking the bay, was not where a good lawyer gave his client shocks.

They climbed the hill in silence then took the vacant seat. For a few minutes Mary stared out to sea, first at dainty Herm Island, then further into the distance where a haze drew sky and water
together in a lacy mist. James took time to admire her well cut slacks. Madam always dressed in the latest fashions, then added her own personal touches. The scarf loosely knotted about her throat
fluttered in the gentle breeze and, much as he disliked women in trousers, he had to admit they suited her. What a splendid figure she had despite three children and he wondered to himself whether
Victor had indeed got over his crazy infatuation. Anyone who could coolly wing another showed control and determination, ideal material indeed. No wonder Emil had sniffed around for weeks after the
shooting.

‘You love this island, don’t you, Madam?’ James started gently.

Mary turned to him smiling happily. ‘I do!’ she agreed. ‘I sometimes forget I wasn’t born here. England and Weymouth are a long time ago.’

James’ eyes held hers. ‘Yet I would guess you are fiercely loyal to the Union Flag as well?’

Mary was astonished. ‘Of course I am? Who isn’t?’

If she had been given a dozen guesses she would never have thought his conversation would lead off like this. Where was it going to go?

James took a deep breath, turned to face her, changing his position on the seat.

‘You are as tough as Madam Noyen senior,’ he said slowly, working up to the crux of the matter in careful stages. ‘You have a cool head in emergencies as you proved when you
shot Victor le Page.’ He paused.

Mary’s nostrils tightened a fraction though she did not bat an eyelid even if her features went stiff. Automatically one hand slid into her right hand slack’s pocket where the
derringer rested without causing even the tiniest bulge.

James spotted the movement from the corner of his eye and his lips twitched. ‘Just as you would be ready to shoot me if I put a toenail wrong?’ he guessed and waited but still Mary
stared back at him, blank and unfathomable. Suddenly he felt a funny little chill creep down his back. Despite the years of knowing her, James acknowledged that Madam Noyen might indeed be
exceedingly dangerous if provoked too far. ‘I applaud!’ he added hastily.

One of Mary’s eyebrows lifted a fraction but she still said nothing and neither did her hand budge. A pulse pounded in her neck and Mary tested her natural instinct. She did not feel in
danger yet she had never met James in this cold, calculating mood and they were very alone indeed. Every sense was alert and she was poised to act as the situation might dictate.

‘I am your friend, Madam,’ James said quickly, aware the atmosphere had become decidedly prickly. ‘I was only stating facts which I knew and have known for a long time. It is
because of who you are and what I know about you that you have become of great interest.’

Mary spoke then. ‘To whom?’ she asked in a low voice.

‘Names I cannot give,’ James said slowly, ‘and when I explain you’ll understand. Before I do though, would I be right in thinking you read the newspaper and listen to the
wireless. You are familiar with current political affairs?’

Now Mary was taken completely aback. This was the most weird conversation she’d had with anyone, let alone her lawyer. She took a deep breath but still kept her hand on her little
protector.

‘I think I am,’ she told him carefully. ‘Mr MacDonald leads the British National Government and was the Prime Minister of the first two Labour Governments.’

James nodded, pleased with her reply. ‘That is it,’ he told her sitting back against he seat’s iron rest. ‘A National Government because of all the economic unrest and we
are not alone. It’s worse in Germany, far worse with a mark which is just about valueless. I predict that soon Germany will have the leader of their National Socialist Party, Adolf Hitler, as
Reich Chancellor. I will foretell something else too,’ he said grimly, leaning forward to emphasise his point. ‘When Hindenburg dies, Hitler will become the Fuhrer. Do you understand
what that means, Madam?’

Mary did not and shook her head blankly, slowly removing her right hand and placing it in open view. She sensed this was something dreadfully important. She had never seen James so solemn.

‘You tell me.’

James sat back a moment to marshall his thoughts and facts to make a coherent, understandable picture. ‘Germany has never recovered from the humiliation of being forced to sign the Peace
Treaty of Versailles. She has never ceased to resent the fact she had to cede Alsace-Lorraine to France as well as Posen and the Corridor to Poland. She also resents the fact she was forced to
disarm, to abolish military service and was allowed to keep only an army of one hundred thousand men with a tiny navy. She resents the fact her colonies were shared out to the victorious allies
under League of Nation Mandates. She resents the war reparations that she has had to pay. It is all of this that collapsed the German economy. Germans do not take kindly to defeat any more than the
British would. The National Socialists in Germany are nothing but arrogant, dangerous, power-hungry Nazis. If Hitler does become Fuhrer—as I’m afraid he will—then God help all of
us. Another war will be inevitable because Germans, and particularly the Nazis, want revenge for their last defeat.’

Mary let out her breath slowly unable to take her eyes off his serious face as her mind whirled with what he had said. Surely he had to be in error? Another ghastly war, she shuddered miserably.
She remembered that awful time when she and Tante went to find Duret! The carnage, the sights and smells, the dead and dying. Not again, she thought.

‘Surely not?’ she protested, in a whisper of horror.

James shook his head vigorously. ‘Europe stands in terrible danger again and this time it will be worse because of technical advances,’ he told her in a low, hard voice. ‘In a
new war, no one will be exempted. Look how planes have improved out of all recognition.’ He paused, taking a deep breath. Now he had reached the important bit. ‘There are some shrewd
men,’ he continued, holding her blue eyes in a stern stare, ‘who don’t like this picture of the future. They have started to look ahead and make plans ready for the
worst.’

Mary had a sudden sharp instinct that what he had said before was merely a preamble. Now he was slowly leading her towards something of vital importance and she had a feeling she was not going
to like it one bit. She waited uneasily.

‘What plans?’ she whispered.

‘Here and there, very carefully picked people are being asked to prepare themselves to help if the situation deteriorates into war. Just now, they have nothing to do at all. They are
simply in place, ready and waiting. They might never be used but, on the other hand, a day or night might come when what they see and hear becomes of great value to Britain. Sometimes they are
called sleepers because they lie low for years until officially activated.’

Mary was stunned with the implication. ‘You mean—spies?’

‘They’re not called that,’ he replied smoothly.

‘You are connected with espionage!’

He held her gaze unblinking. ‘I admit to nothing.’

‘But I live on tiny Guernsey. What can I do here?’

She was stunned by what he had said. Never in a thousand days had any such activity entered her mind and, indeed, she told herself, although well read and up to date with current affairs, she
had not considered them as of a concern to herself. She turned away from him and looked out to sea.

He studied her carefully, understanding her shock and controlled a soft sigh of exasperation. How many more were there like Madam? Were people so complacent? Couldn’t they see the
implications of wrong political moves? To him, it was so clear as to be frightening.

‘You could do a lot,’ he told her. ‘You have excellent business connections not only with your holiday properties, which incidentally could be publicised on the continent too,
but also with the tomatoes. You could develop first-class business links in a number of places.’

Mary heard his words but was thinking of something else at the same time. Was
this
why his daughter went to that exclusive English school? Now she thought she understood why the
girl’s parents made so many trips to England. Innocuous weekends to see their daughter but what else did the girl’s father do when he was over there? She had been completely fooled
which meant others had too.

‘But doing what when I get there?’ she asked slowly.

‘You have the brains to assimilate information and tabulate observations. You have the wits to sift out the chaff from the corn and, should the day ever arise, pass on the nucleus when
requested. You have proved you are cold and ruthless. You would make a most valuable sleeping agent.’

Mary gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘I cannot for the life of me see how little Guernsey can be of interest to anyone and, even if I did what you suggested, surely there would be
limitations? Wouldn’t it be better to have someone in France and—oh!’ She gasped. ‘You already have!’

She frowned, then began to work it all out while he waited with patient interest. He saw her face brighten and her eyes grow wide with expectation.

‘You want insurance,’ she told him in a little rush of words. ‘You want more than one observer so that, should the worst happen, you would have two strings to a spying
bow.’

‘I knew you were sharp,’ he praised her quietly, filled with exultation. He had not underestimated her and the gamble appeared to have paid off.

‘But if war came,’ Mary asked, ‘I surely would have to be told what information to collect and how it would be passed on?’

He threw her a sad smile. ‘If the inevitable comes,’ knowing in his heart it would, ‘what will the men do? Exactly the same as the last time. They will rush off to fight but
women will stay at home. And, further, women are usually accepted at face value. Women can be extremely valuable just because they are female and non-combatants. Of course, women bleed and die the
same as men. Look at Nurse Cavell in the last war. She was shot for helping soldiers escape to Holland. Throughout history there have been some very brave women observers, shall I call them? Look
at the British Civil Wars and Hannah Rhodes who was caught and executed by the Royalists. Although women do not normally lift a rifle and pull a trigger they can be most effective in their own
right. It’s no job for the faint-hearted though but you have passed all the necessary tests.’ He gave her an encouraging grin.

Mary eyed him warily, not quite able to take it all in or believe him except that his eyes were coldly serious.

‘What I want you to do is think about everything I’ve said. You realise of course no one—and I do mean no one—must know this conversation took place for obvious reasons.
It will not be held against you if your answer is negative but, because of the gravity of what has been related to you, you would have to sign the Official Secrets Act. And the penalty for breaking
your oath would not be pleasant.’

Mary shook her head. ‘I wondered what on earth you wanted to see me for out of your office, James. I never thought it would be for anything like this.’ Who would have thought this of
James? It did cross her mind to wonder who else might be involved but his two friends she had to dismiss. Wild, pirate Victor—never! Dour, stickler-for-details Emil, surely not?