When I came back five minutes later, Baer was pacing. He didn’t look at me. But he kept whistling the whole time I was sweeping up the broken crockery, and eventually I got it—there wasn’t much to get, only twelve letters, over and over, fitted carefully into eight bars of Mendelssohn.

FA

LLE

FA

LLE

ENIGM

ENIGM

A

X

I’d nearly finished clearing up when Wing Commander Cromwell came in, steering Sergeant Elisabeth Lind ahead of him with a big hand on her shoulder. For a moment, Baer didn’t stop pacing, or whistling. But he stopped whistling in Morse. He finished the music naturally, in its proper rhythm. Then he gave a little bow to Cromwell and the translator.

One of the soldiers pulled up a folding chair next to the portable heater for Miss Lind. She sat down primly with her hands in her lap.

“Sorry, sir, I’ve just finished tidying this,” I said.

“On you go, then,” Cromwell rumbled. He opened a tin of cigarettes and offered one to Baer.

Miss Lind sat waiting for her translation duties to begin. I thought she looked angry; her narrow-eyed glare reminded me of something. A cornered rat? Something else, too. It was hard to tell what she really looked like behind the big fake eyelashes.

I picked up the tray and the broken bits and pieces, leaving a poor cold breakfast for Felix Baer.

I was bursting to find out what FA LLE ENIGMA meant.

Jamie:

The weather got worse as the day wore on. Evening brought a storm of howling sleet, impossible to fly in. I probably couldn’t have stopped anyone from slogging to the Limehouse through the gale if I’d tried, and I didn’t want to test my strength on something so harmless. There was a stack of jazz records, and now there were four females worth dancing with, not counting Nancy, who could probably be persuaded if you were feeling generous. Sergeant Elisabeth Lind was at the bar when we got there, leaning in on her elbows to talk to Mrs. Campbell. She wore civilian clothes: a tight-fitting gray skirt and a just-as-tight black pullover with a high neck. She turned when we came in and pressed her shoulder-blades against the bar, facing the room. It would be hard for any of the lads to get his arm around her.

The other lasses, Phyllis and Ellen and Louisa, huddled at the table by the fire with Mrs. Warner. They looked as if they were waiting for a show to start.