It came as no surprise to Lockhart that Moscow responded first. Some bugger in Baker Street or Whitehall was doubtlessly sitting on his dispatches, dismissing them as bunkum. Or perhaps they hadn’t arrived, held up by the German censors. But other members of the BFC—including Stafford himself—had sent and received mail, so why would the Germans pick on his inane-looking correspondence to Hattie in Belsize Park? There was no reason—it had to be a delay in London. Presumably, warned by Cairo and coded letters from POWs in Thorn and Posen, they regarded anything to do with him as being deeply suspect. That was fair enough, but maddening. Thank God for the Russians, he thought, thank God for them.

“Here it is,” Leni said, passing Lockhart a small rolled-up piece of yellow paper. “You’ve caused quite a stir,” she added. “Moscow had never heard of sarin, but they’ve certainly heard of the rockets. It seems as though the Gestapo captured your friend Nicolas just too soon.” It was Friday afternoon, and they were sitting in her room in the guesthouse. The old landlady said that normally she did not allow male visitors, but Lockhart’s uniform and a ten Reichsmark note were enough to shut her up.

Lockhart unfurled the paper.

Most likely location for rockets KOHNSTEIN MOUNTAIN near NORDHAUSEN. Factory called MITTELBAU. Destroy at all costs.

“Are you all right?” asked Leni. “You’ve gone white.”

It hit him right between the ribs, and it hit him hard. So here at last was what Nicolas was tapping. “Mitt” was Mittelbau. That had to be it.

“Lockhart!”

He read the message again. “Destroy at all costs.” Easier said than done.

“John!”

Lockhart looked up.

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he said after a pause. “Quite all right.”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lockhart smiled ruefully.

“No, but I think I’ll be seeing one soon.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Leni nodded and moved on.

“We’re to go to Hanover tomorrow,” she said. “To meet a friend, a friend who has the plans.”

“The plans?”

“The plans to Mittelbau. We’re to meet in the Grosser Garten at lunchtime. There is a maze there, and we are to meet in the center of that at…Are you listening to me?”

“Yes. Meet in the middle of the maze at lunchtime. Sorry, I just think I’m a little tired. The idea of these rockets has stopped me from sleeping.”

“You’re not the only one. At least you can get out—it hasn’t been much fun being cooped up here for the past few days.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have a day out tomorrow.”

Leni pretended to return Lockhart’s cheering smile.

“Sorry,” Lockhart repeated. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Leni sighed.

“Sorry as well,” she said. “I’m a bit tense. And I’ve run out of cigarettes.”

“These plans,” said Lockhart. “Who are they from?”