I should’ve watched to see which way they were all going and then called, he thought, kicking himself. Well, it was too late now. It was already getting dark. He’d have to wait till tomorrow morning to find out where Bletchley Park was. Right now he needed to find the center of town and a room. But there wasn’t a taxi in sight either, and no sign saying To City Centre.

He set off along the likeliest-looking street, but its brick buildings quickly gave way to warehouses, and when he reached the corner, he couldn’t see anything promising in either direction. This is ridiculous, he thought. How big can Bletchley be? If he kept walking, he’d eventually have to come to something, even if it was only the edge of town, but it would be completely dark in a few more minutes, and his bad foot was beginning to ache. He looked up the side street again, trying to decide which way to go.

And glimpsed two people in the dusk. They were a block and a half away—too far ahead for him to catch up to them with his limp, but he hobbled after them anyway.

The pair reached the corner and stopped, as if waiting to cross, even though there weren’t any cars he could see. Mike labored to catch up to them. It was two young women, he saw as he got closer, obviously two of the hundreds Polly had said worked at Bletchley Park. Good. After he’d asked them for directions, he could say, “You wouldn’t happen to know a Gerald Phipps, would you?” and since Phipps was such a jerk, they’d make a face and say, “Why, yes, unfortunately we do,” and he could be on the train back to London to pick up Eileen and Polly by tomorrow.

Only half a block to go. The young women were still standing there talking, totally caught up in what they were saying and oblivious to his approach. And no wonder they’d been known as “girls.” They didn’t look more than sixteen. They were talking animatedly and giggling, and it was clear as he got closer to them that they weren’t waiting to cross. They’d simply stopped to talk.

Keep talking till I catch up, girls, he willed them, but when he was still a hundred feet away, they crossed the street, walked to the second building, and started up the steps to the door.

Oh, no, they were going in. He hobbled quickly to the corner. “Hey!” he called, and both girls turned at the door and looked back at him. “Wait!” He stepped out into the street. “Can you tell me the way to—”

He didn’t even see the bicycle. His first thought as his bag flew out of his hand and both palms and his knee hit the pavement was that a bomb must have exploded and the blast had knocked him down, and he looked toward the girls, afraid they’d been hit, too. But they were running down the steps and over to him, exclaiming, “Are you all right? Did he injure you?”