So it’s a good thing I didn’t put one in Euphemia Hill’s letter to the editor, Ernest thought.

“I’ve given Lady Bracknell the script,” Tensing said. “Your job will be to work up an array of supporting materials—wireless traffic, dispatches, doubles if necessary, photographs, newspaper articles.”

Good, Ernest thought in relief. That means I can go on sending messages. And articles referring to Patton were something historians were even more likely to look for than the planted Fortitude stories.

“It’s rather a rush job, I’m afraid,” Tensing said. “It all needs to be in place before Patton leaves.”

“Which is when?” Moncrieff asked.

“July the sixth.” Tensing ignored the groans. “Moncrieff, I also want your report on the convoy activities before I leave. And again, my hearty congratulations on a successful job. And let’s hope the next one is as successful as the last. That will be all.” He stood up. “Cess, Worthing, I want to see you in Bracknell’s office in five minutes.”

He walked out.

“Sounds like you two are for it,” Prism whispered, and Cess nodded, looking worried.

“You don’t suppose we’re being sent on one of those secret missions no one comes back from, do you?” Cess asked Ernest anxiously. “What do you think?”

I think I waited too long to speak to Tensing, Ernest thought.

They went into the office. Tensing was sitting behind Bracknell’s desk. “You wanted to see us, sir?” Cess said.

“Yes,” Tensing said. “Shut the door.”

Oh, God, it is something big. We’re being sent to Germany. Or Burma.

Cess shut the door. Tensing walked stiffly over to Lady Bracknell’s chair and sat down. “Don’t look like you’re about to be court-martialed,” he said, and smiled. “I called the two of you in here so I could congratulate you.”

“For what?” Cess asked suspiciously.

“For the success of the Normandy invasion. We’ve received word—I’m not at liberty to say through what channels—”

Ultra, Ernest thought.

“—that the decisive element in the High Command’s refusal to release General Rommel’s tanks for use in Normandy was the eyewitness account of the massive numbers of troops and matériel in the Dover area from a repatriated high-ranking German officer.”

“And not all those letters to the editor Worthing wrote?” Cess said, sounding disappointed. “Or all those dummy tanks we inflated? Worthing here risked life and limb for those tanks.”

“I’ve no doubt the tanks and the letters to the editor both played their part,” Tensing said wryly, “though even if they didn’t, they still had to be done. That’s unfortunately the nature of intelligence work. One does a number of things in the hope that at least one of them will work.”

Like going off to Biggin Hill and Bletchley Park and Manchester, Ernest thought, and putting messages to the retrieval team in the personal columns.

“One rarely ever knows which schemes succeeded and which failed.”

It was true. He would never know which, if any, of his messages had got through, never know whether Polly had been pulled out in time.