‘No, I didn’t recognise his voice.’

‘American or English?’

‘Very definitely English. He was pretty insistent – rather overkeen to speak to you, if anything. He seemed on the verge of losing his temper. To tell the truth I was a little preoccupied. Tom, I don’t like talking to you like this. I love you and I want to see you.’

‘And I love you. Until tomorrow.’

‘Goodbye, darling.’

Wilde replaced the handset.

‘Everything all right, Wilde?’ Harrison asked.

‘I . . . I think so.’

‘Another Scotch?’

Wilde nodded. Yes, more whisky might take the edge off the next few hours. And then a flight through Nazi-dominated airspace.

*

Back at the hotel, Wilde knocked at Sunny and Klara’s door, but there was no reply. He needed to tell them about their flight plans and was surprised they hadn’t returned from the shops yet. He went back down to reception and asked whether they had left a message.

‘No, sir.’

‘Have you seen them?’

‘They returned with some bags but after that, nothing. If they are not in their room I must have missed them going out again. Unless they are in the lounge – have you looked there, Mr Wilde?’ The receptionist pointed towards a side room.

Wilde was about to follow his directions when a gust of wintry air blew in from the front door and he turned to see Sunny and Klara, all rosy cheeks and brightly knitted mittens as they tumbled into the hotel lobby, laughing and smiling.

‘Am I pleased to see you two!’ he said. ‘I didn’t know what had become of you.’

‘Santa Lucia became of us,’ Sunny said. ‘It’s all such fun, Tom. You should have come with us. It’s everywhere – carols and processions, everyone carrying candles and wearing white robes. Oh, it’s all so beautiful, Tom.’

‘Sounds wonderful – and I’ve got even better news. We’re flying tonight.’

*

The BOAC Lockheed Lodestar took off from Bromma aerodrome right on the dot of midnight with a passenger list of twelve and a cargo of ball bearings. The twin-engined plane rose quickly to over twenty thousand feet, well above the cloud cover, and kept within Swedish airspace until it had reached its maximum cruising height of twenty-five-thousand feet.

The windows were blacked out, the exterior lights extinguished, and the pilot was flying on altimeter and compass, at least until they were well past enemy territory.

Wilde looked around at the other passengers; they were all men, five in British service uniforms, the others in smart civilian suits. Every one of them on business of some sort. The words ‘intelligence gathering’ came to mind. He was at the back of the plane with Sunny and Klara, who soon fell asleep, her head resting on Sunny’s shoulder.