Or anyone who was killed days—or weeks—later as a consequence of what they did, Dunworthy thought.

“Do you want us to attempt to find out about those who suffered eventually fatal injuries?” the tech asked.

“We’ll see. Give me what you’ve found thus far. You said twenty-one that night?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Six firemen, an ARP warden, a Wren, an officer in the Lancaster Rifles, a WAAC, a seventeen-year-old boy, and two charwomen.”

“No naval officers?”

“No, sir. But as I said, this is only the people who died that night.”

“Have you the exact locations where they were killed?”

“For some of them. The officer and two of the firemen were killed in Upper Grosvenor Street, and the others fighting a fire in the Minories. The ARP warden was killed in Cheapside. The post was hit.”

“What about the Wren?”

“She was killed in Ave Maria Lane.”

Only a few streets away from St. Paul’s. “Is there a photo of her?”

“No, not with the death notice. Do you want me to try to find one?”

“Yes. And I need the names of the fatalities and, if possible, photographs. As soon as you can. When you have it, phone me directly.”

He gave her the number, rang off, and started through the slippage analysis, afraid that it held more bad news. But although there was a slight increase in the average amount of slippage per drop, it wasn’t as large as Ishiwaka had predicted, and several of the drops were in areas where their opening was highly likely to be observed, which could account for the increase. And there was nothing to indicate a spike.

But the analysis didn’t include this week’s drops. He told Eddritch to ring him at the lab if Research phoned, and went out Balliol’s gate and over to the Broad.

As Dunworthy turned up Catte Street, Colin Templer caught up with him. “I’m glad I found you,” he said breathlessly. “That idiot secretary of yours wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

He should reprove Colin for calling Eddritch an idiot, but there was a certain amount of truth to his assessment. “Why aren’t you in school?” he demanded instead.

“We had a holiday,” Colin said, and at his look added, “No, truly. You can ring up the school and ask them. So I came up to see you. I’ve an idea for an assignment,” he said, walking beside Dunworthy. “Do you know the land girls?”

“The land girls?”

“Yes. In World War II. They were these women who—”

“I am familiar with the land girls. You’re proposing to pose as a female and enlist in the Women’s Land Army?”

“No, but the reason they had to have land girls was because the farm laborers had all gone off to the war, and the farmers hired boys as well, so I thought I could say I was fifteen—that way I’d be too young to be called up—and I could observe wartime farm life. You know, food shortages and all that.”