Not because I was a good spy, or even qualified-apart from my two-week crash course in espionage. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew the answer.
Otherwise, why send me to Paris after Fredrick Fredricks? The men in Room 40 may have been incredulous that I, Fiona Figg, a mere file clerk, and a woman no less, would be crossing a war zone to pursue a fiendish South African huntsman cum war correspondent who was most certainly also a German spy, but the upper brass in the War Office must have confidence in me. Can’t you see, thanks to this bloody war, women are carrying the world? Knox again.Ĭome on, chaps, it’s 1917, not the dark ages.
Grey, the grandson of the fifth Lord of Walsingham studied several languages at Eton College and then went into publishing before being recruited as a code-breaker.īut spying on the bloody Germans? Surely that’s a man’s job. And here I thought Nigel Grey was more broad-minded than most of the men in Room 40. Grey, with your high-pitched little whine. Widows get up to all sorts of things these days. Despite his old-fashioned views, I couldn’t help but like him. Dilly Knox was a former classics scholar at Cambridge and one of the best code-breakers in Room 40, the heart of British Intelligence. I can’t believe the upper brass is sending her, a mere file clerk, and a woman no less. I couldn’t see around the partition separating my desk from the rest of the office, but I knew who was speaking all the same. Not very polite, I know, but jolly informative. When I heard one of the code-breakers use my name, I couldn’t help eavesdropping. Fiona is a good girl, but trailing Fredricks is a dangerous mission.
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