‘So where is it this time? Peronne again? Have you any idea how well the Germans are defending Peronne? They’re dug in. What do you want? You want our pilots to bomb them?’ The commander rose to his feet and leaned across the table that served as his desk. ‘Would you like to tell my pilots you want them to risk their lives to do the army’s job?’

‘No, sir...’

‘No, sir. You wouldn’t.’

Grimm cut in quickly. ‘I mean no, sir, I’m not here with army orders. I’m here to ask for your help. I am on an important mission. I need to get to Cléry and I need to get there quickly. The roads are jammed. It’s only ten miles but it could take me till noon tomorrow to get there.’

Commander Jackson looked puzzled. ‘Not my problem, Sergeant.’

Grimm gave his small smile. ‘I have this pass – orders from the highest command – anyone in the services has to help me.’

The airman’s eyes widened as he suddenly understood. ‘You want one of my men to fly you to this Cléry place?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Jackson bared his teeth and shouted, ‘Do you think the Royal Air Force is some sort of taxi service?’

‘No, sir, but orders are orders and you have to help me,’ Grimm said quietly with a hint of menace.

Jackson’s mouth widened and his snarl became a grin. ‘Sadly, Sergeant, I can’t fly anyone anywhere. If you were Prime Minister Lloyd George himself I’d have to refuse. My boys can’t fly when the clouds are so low, see? You can wave as many bits of paper as you want – you can wave them till you flap yourself into the air – but there will be no more flights till tomorrow.’

‘It’s urgent...’

‘You can sleep in the tent with the mechanics tonight. If I have a plane going to Peronne tomorrow I may let it set you down near Cléry. Now get out.’

Grimm looked angry and disappointed but knew he was beaten. He raised a tired hand to salute and left the hut to find a bed for the night.

26 August 1918: The school, Bray

General Bruce sat back in his chair and groaned. Colette Fletcher sat opposite him quietly. ‘So let me get this right, Mrs Fletcher, are you saying your daughter left with a backpack that held fake plans for a Whippet tank?’

She nodded. Captain Ellis stood in the corner of the office, his head bowed and his eyes on the dusty floor.

The general looked at him. ‘So our friend with the silver hand has the wrong backpack. And not only that, the real plans are missing from my safe.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘It also means he has a pass that will allow him to go anywhere without question. You gave an enemy spy the greatest help possible.’

‘Yes, sir.’