Death Ray

by Craig Simpson

  ‘The upshot of this mess,’ Shelby continued, ‘is that we have to assume Renard will attempt to make his escape soon. Of course, we’ll try to stop him. We will double security at all ports and airfields, place extra men at railway stations across southern England and order every policeman and member of the Home Guard to look out for him. Unfortunately it’s well nigh impossible to cover every river and rocky cove, every nook and cranny of Britain’s coastline. We have to face the fact that in all likelihood the blueprints will find their way to Berlin.’

  Sitting at the back of the room, Amélie took a sharp intake of breath and muttered, ‘Désastreux!’

  ‘Quite, miss!’ the brigadier replied.

  ‘What exactly are the blueprints for?’ asked Max.

  I reckoned Loki, Freya and I already knew the answer – an abominable weapon, a hideous death ray. Eager to hear all about it, I leaned forward in my chair. The brigadier’s reply, however, took me by surprise.

  ‘Our chaps over at Worth Matravers design radar systems. They’ve been working on a device that’s small enough to be fitted into our aircraft.’

  ‘You mean so our pilots can see the enemy in the dark?’ interrupted Loki. I too recalled what Nils had explained to us during our journey down from Glasgow.

  ‘Exactly, Mr Larson. And we’re pretty close to an operational version. There is a vital component in it called a magnetron. That’s what the blueprints contain.’

  The confused and puzzled look on Loki’s face exactly matched how I felt. ‘So it’s not some sort of death ray then?’ I said hesitantly.

  Walker and the brigadier exchanged sharp glances. Both appeared to be at a loss as to what to say next. I sensed their awkwardness had something to do with Shelby’s presence in the room. Why was that? I wondered. Then I remembered the animosity and competitiveness between Special Ops and the SIS. Was that it? Was the matter too sensitive for Shelby’s ears? ‘Death ray?’ Walker said finally, trying to sound light-hearted. ‘What on earth are you on about, Mr Gunnersen?’

  Shelby, for his part, had heard enough. Muttering that he had spies to catch, blueprints to retrieve and a war to win, he headed for the door and the chauffeur-driven car parked on the gravel outside.

  The moment he’d left, Jacques stood up and slapped the palm of his left hand against his forehead. ‘Bien entendu! It is my fault, sir,’ he said, turning to the brigadier. ‘Finn saw me writing rayon de la mort during lessons.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, I did. Rayon de la mort – death ray. We also know your father works for the Moutons’ electronics company, Jacques – or at least he did until the Nazis invaded France and shipped him off to Berlin to work on something important. And we were told that those blueprints were vital. We assumed they were linked, all part of the same thing – plans for a devastating weapon.’

  Jacques shook his head at me. ‘Imbécile!’ he snorted. ‘What is it the English say? Ah, yes, A little knowledge is a very dangerous thing.’

  The brigadier puffed out his cheeks and nodded. ‘Explanations are in order, I think. Perhaps you’d like to begin, Mr Lefebvre. Tell your colleagues about your role in all this.’

  Max was scratching his head. Interrupting proceedings, he asked, ‘What about this talk of a death ray?’

  Walker held up a hand. ‘All in good time, Max. We’ll get to that.’

  Jacques fired up a cigarette and took centre stage. ‘You are right, Finn, about Amélie and I knowing Félix Mouton, and about our father working for the Moutons. Their electronics company makes many things, including radios and … radar systems! After France was invaded the Nazis seized everything. Being rich, the Moutons had a lot to lose. Félix’s father faced a difficult choice. He could either give up his electronics company and fortune, or co-operate with the Nazis in the hope they’d let him keep them. He decided to cooperate. Our father continued working for him. That way he hoped to avoid being shipped to Germany as forced labour. It was the lesser of two evils.’

  ‘But they took him to Berlin anyway!’ Amélie interrupted.

  Jacques exhaled forcefully. ‘Yes, as soon as they realized he was a brilliant engineer.’

  Max snorted with derision. ‘So they’re all collaborators!’

  ‘No!’ Jacques shouted. ‘Not Father. He is a true Frenchman. In Berlin, the authorities allowed him to write home once a week. We agreed a sort of code before he left. Hidden in his letters he sent us information about what he was working on. Little bits at first. Then more detail. Eventually I could see what the Nazis were developing with his reluctant help. Through his letters he began pleading with me to give the information to the Resistance, or better still deliver it to the British authorities personally.’

  ‘So that’s when you decided to leave France?’ said Freya.

  ‘Yes. Both Amélie and I were already heavily involved with the local partisans but there was a problem. The Resistance is fragmented. It is hard to know who to trust. There are at least half a dozen groups working in and around Rochefort alone. Some are communists, others just local peasants. All have their own reasons for fighting. I decided it was safest to deliver the information myself.’

  Max asked, ‘What exactly was your father working on?’

  ‘Radar à impulsions – erm, I think it translates as pulse radar. The Nazis have developed a new long-range system, one that can detect aircraft or ships hundreds of miles away. It is proving devastating. British bombers are being shot down before they even get across the Channel.’

  The room fell silent for a while as all this information sank in. I realized both sides in this awful war were doing their best to steal the secrets of the other. Fritz wanted to learn about our new-fangled airborne system, while we desperately needed to know about their deadly long-range equipment. Eventually Max piped up with a question, ‘I understand about your father, Jacques, but do we know why Félix Mouton agreed to spy for the Nazis?’

  Jacques yanked the smouldering cigarette from his lips. ‘I think so. I’ve known Félix most of my life. He has always been in his father’s shadow and he resented it. I believe he saw an opportunity. I have little doubt the Nazis promised him many things in return for his assistance – money, power, and eventually control of his father’s business. I expect his greed took over. He likes being rich!’

  The brigadier took up Jacques’ story. ‘After Amélie and Jacques arrived in England and passed the information to Intelligence, X recruited them to Special Operations. He was already aware that Félix was in England, and had a pretty good idea that he was a rotten egg. He came up with a plan to try and infiltrate his world. He arranged it so that Jacques accidentally bumped into him in London.’

  Amélie gasped in astonishment. ‘Mon Dieu!’ Clearly she knew nothing of her brother’s clandestine work. Walker apologized to her for all the secrecy, saying that X thought it safer to keep her out of that part of the operation.

  Something pinged in my head. ‘So that’s where you keep disappearing to,’ I said. ‘You’ve been meeting Renard!’

  ‘Bravo! Congratulations, Finn.’ The smirk on Jacques’ face broadened and he clapped his hands slowly. ‘Of course, I couldn’t let on that I knew he was working for the Nazis, so our little meetings were just old friends getting together to chat about the war and life back home. My cover story was that I got caught up helping French soldiers evacuate the beaches at Dunkirk, and with the Germans advancing rapidly I had to escape too.

  ‘X instructed me to find out as much as possible about what Félix was up to over here. Félix is a very careful man, although he did let several – how do you say … cats out of the bag. As you know, we all come from a town called Rochefort, near the Channel coast. The Moutons own a large château there, close to the cliffs. About ten years ago Félix’s father built laboratories in the grounds. That’s where my father worked. One night a couple of months ago Félix told me how angry his father was now that the Germans had taken over. He’s no longer permitted inside his own laboratories. Eintrit
t verboten! signs are everywhere. Also, a large part of the estate has been sealed off. Nobody is allowed within two hundred yards of the cliffs. I think he’d drunk too much and didn’t realize what he was saying. I knew instantly that this information was recent, new – Félix was still actively communicating with home, despite being in England. He also told me that the Nazis had built something close to the edge of the cliffs. What, he wouldn’t say. I don’t think any amount of drink would have loosened his tongue sufficiently to reveal that.’

  ‘What Jacques discovered all ties in with recent reports from the French Resistance,’ the brigadier added. ‘And our latest aerial reconnaissance photographs of the area. As well as the usual coastal defences, there are several strange rectangular grids of aerials and some small dish-like objects sited round a partially buried concrete building. Although the setup looks completely different to our radar sites, we’re convinced it’s Jerry’s new long-range system.’

  ‘Hah! So that’s what your doodles were all about, Jacques. You were trying to draw Fritz’s new aerials,’ I said. Jacques pushed up his spectacles and nodded at me.

  ‘How can you be certain it is the enemy’s new radar system?’ Max asked.

  The brigadier smiled. ‘One of our experts at Worth Matravers, a splendid chap with bags of initiative, set out to prove it. In a flash of inspiration he realized that if Jerry really did have a system that could detect aircraft a hundred miles away, then surely we ought to be able to hear it. So, one night he packed the boot of his car with a radio receiver, drove along the coast and parked up somewhere nice and quiet. Then he began listening. Sure enough, he picked up the tell-tale rhythmic beeps of a transmitter, and by fiddling about a bit with his aerial, he pinpointed the source – Rochefort! Bob’s your uncle, case proven, I think.’

  Amélie frowned. ‘Bob? Who is this Bob?’

  ‘Never mind, miss,’ Walker replied. ‘It’s just an old saying.’

  ‘You English and your crazy sayings. Why can’t you talk properly?’

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ said the brigadier sheepishly. ‘You’re quite right.’

  The room filled with chatter as everyone spoke at once, bombarding Jacques with questions about Renard. Max almost looked impressed. Amélie repeatedly tugged at her brother’s sleeve while haranguing him for keeping so many secrets from her. Jacques glowed amid all the attention.

  ‘Sergeant Walker, what about that death ray? You said you’d tell us,’ Freya called out over the hubbub.

  The brigadier bellowed for everyone to listen. ‘Miss Haukelid is quite correct. Please all sit back down.’ He signalled to Walker, who took up a commanding position in front of the fireplace. ‘What Sergeant Walker is about to tell you is highly classified. You were to be briefed about it the day after tomorrow, but I think now is as good a time as any. Sergeant, if you please …’

  ‘I think everyone here has a basic idea what radar is, don’t they?’ Walker began.

  A murmur of agreement echoed about the room.

  ‘Excellent. Well, when you think about it, all radar really does is send invisible radio waves into the air. Of course, the waves are perfectly harmless, invisible, and yet they are deadly! They allow the enemy to be located and destroyed. They are, in effect, a death ray.’ He paused and saw me staring at him intensely. ‘The point is,’ he continued, ‘we thought Death Ray was the perfect codename for your first mission into enemy territory.’ Pushing back his shoulders and clearing his throat, he was evidently preparing himself for a big announcement. ‘Mr Churchill has demanded that we do something to protect our pilots and reduce our heavy losses. We’re losing aircraft faster than we can build replacements and train new pilots. It has to stop. And we intend to do just that. One week from now four of you will be heading for France. Your mission will be to help our chaps steal Jerry’s new radar system – the whole kit and caboodle, every last damn nut and bolt.’

  I was astonished.

  The brigadier caught my eye. ‘Close call earlier when you mentioned the codename in front of Shelby, Mr Gunnersen. His lot don’t know about it. X wants it kept that way. He doesn’t want the SIS interfering with our show. I know it sounds incredible, impossible even, but we have planned every detail. Operation Death Ray must succeed – otherwise we will lose this war!’

  Loki beat me to the question hovering on my lips. ‘You said four of us?’

  ‘Correct,’ said Walker. ‘Jacques and Amélie will be accompanied by Max and Freya on their return to Rochefort.’

  ‘What about Finn and me?’ demanded Loki.

  ‘We don’t think your French is fluent enough yet, Mr Larson. We simply can’t take the risk. There is too much at stake,’ said the brigadier.

  ‘What?’ Loki’s face darkened. ‘If Freya’s going, then so am I.’

  ‘Calm down, Mr Larson. It wasn’t an easy decision. But we believe it’s the right one. In any event, you and Finn do have a role to play.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Loki snapped angrily.

  ‘Captain Jacobsen needs a crew to help fly them in. We’re going to be using the Heinkel seaplane you stole.’

  The absence of surprise on Nils’ face made me realize that he knew about at least that part of the operation. ‘Are you up for it, Finn?’ he asked.

  I nodded vigorously – the chance to fly again made me fizz with excitement. Loki, however, reacted rather differently. ‘No way,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘The three of us promised to stick together through thick and thin. Isn’t that right?’

  Freya nodded slowly. I think she was in shock. She looked kind of dazed, far away.

  ‘And, anyway, our French is just as good as hers,’ Loki complained. ‘So, like I said, if she’s going, then so am I. Otherwise you can forget it. Isn’t that right?’ He divided his stare between Freya and me. ‘Well? Back me up, you two.’ Anxiously awaiting our support, he was dismayed when we remained silent. ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s not our decision,’ I said finally. I realized it wasn’t much of a reply, and certainly not the one my best friend wanted to hear. He gave me a look that spoke of my betrayal.

  ‘Mr Larson,’ said the brigadier sternly, ‘Freya’s French is by no means perfect, but Jacques needs to have a dedicated wireless operator in the field. Freya’s proven herself to be gifted. It’s essential that she goes. It’s a calculated risk.’

  ‘Why can’t Amélie operate the radio? Or someone in the French Resistance?’

  ‘That’s enough! X has made his decision,’ the brigadier replied. ‘It is not for you or me to question it.’

  ‘Like hell it isn’t.’

  ‘Get a grip of yourself, Mr Larson,’ said Walker. ‘Or else we’ll have to reconsider whether there is any kind of active role you can play in this mission.’

  Seething, Loki stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Disgusted by the outburst, Jacques shook his head. ‘His temper is too short. One day it will get him killed!’

  ‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ I said. Freya got up too. ‘No, maybe it’s best if I speak to him alone.’

  I found Loki sitting on a bench outside, busy sulking, his head in his hands. ‘I just can’t believe it. They know the three of us are a team, Finn. We told X that we rely on each other. It’s not fair. It’s not right!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I want to go home. Right this minute. That’s where our war is. That’s where our families are. They’re the ones we should be fighting for. When we agreed to join Special Ops I assumed X would eventually send us back home, to help the Norwegian Resistance, to help free our country. Not France, for God’s sake!’

  Of course, what lay at the heart of his rage was that he and Freya were going to be separated. Worse, she was heading into great danger. We all knew that the work of wireless operators was probably the most hazardous of all Resistance work. Fritz had an uncanny knack of capturing them. Their life expectancy could be measured in terms of weeks. And good though Freya’s French was, I doubt
ed it would withstand close scrutiny. It would be down to Jacques and Amélie to protect her.

  ‘And why’s Max going?’ Loki added bitterly.

  ‘They want someone in the team who can read and speak fluent German.’

  I looked round and saw Nils approaching. ‘You knew all about this, didn’t you?’ I said accusingly.

  ‘Some of it. Mind if I sit down?’ He didn’t wait for a reply and plonked himself next to Loki. ‘I understand your feelings, and I share your concerns. But this operation really is important.’

  ‘You sound just like the brigadier,’ said Loki coldly. ‘Why don’t they just fly in and bomb the place to hell? Then there’d be no need for Freya to go; for any of us to go.’

  ‘Think about it, Loki. If we blow it up, the Nazis will simply build another one, and another, and another. Maybe they’ll find ways of camouflaging the system so we don’t even know it’s there. But if we got hold of one, one that worked, we could figure out how to beat it, to jam it or confuse it. There is a great deal at stake. The brigadier was right when he said the outcome of the war may depend on it.’

  ‘It sounds a crackpot plan, anyway,’ said Loki. ‘How on earth are they going to steal a radar system from right under Fritz’s nose?’

  ‘Not far from here a group of commandos and sappers from the Royal Engineers have been practising day and night, climbing cliffs and dismantling life-size models of the setup. It’ll be their job to sail in and grab the equipment. Special Operations has been given the job of creating diversions in order to draw the local German garrison away from Mouton’s château.’