Chapter 13
TESTY TUESDAYElsewhere, a woman fumed because she had let hope triumph over seasoned experience.
“…so a no show?” Cyd Watkins, in her underground command post in Maryland, paused in her pacing and asked Hugh Maxwell to confirm his update on the encrypted line. She had to ensure what she had heard. MI5 knew that cemetery as well as God Save the Queen, he assured in his precise tone. Why in the past, it had laid to rest there several former colleagues. It knew the approximate numbers of mourners who visited and had inserted that prudent count of static watchers, not too many to draw attention, not too few to poorly observe, for this operation. A squirrel could twitch its tail, a wood pigeon could fly high overhead, he boasted, and they’d know. Five’s crew had recced not just the
