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that the gems were few and far between, whilst the constant barrage of information was unrelenting.

Such was Kelly’s state of mind when he returned to his quarters in Nassau. As he walked into the building, Simmonds, one of his fellow operatives, met him.

“Something’s up, Dan. Just had a telephone call. You have to ring McFarlane in G3 in Government House A.S.A.P.” He smiled and added, “What have you been up to then?”

“Nothing, as far as I know,” Kelly shrugged. “Probably delivered some duff information to G3, so I shall prepare myself for the requisite bollocking.”

“Good luck!” Simmonds laughed as he turned for the stairs. Kelly went immediately to his room and picked up the phone provided only to his section, much to the envy of the colonial officers who shared the building, all of whom, except the most senior, had to use a communal phone in the foyer.

Kelly rang the G3 number in Nassau and waited for the receptionist to answer.

“McFarlane,” he said sharply to the receptionist before she had fully completed her prepared intro speech.

“Who’s speaking please?” she asked

“Kelly.” Immediately the line went dead for a second, then there was a dull intermittent burring as McFarlane’s phone was activated. Kelly wondered about the summons. McFarlane was the head “G” man on the island. Officially he was G3, but he outranked Kelly’s G2 Line Manager.

“McFarlane,” said a distant voice on the telephone.

“Kelly. You wanted me, Bob?”

“Yes, thanks for ringing Dan. Something fairly urgent has come up. Any chance you could dine with me in Government House tonight? There are one or two issues I need to discuss.”

“I’m on my way.” You didn’t say no to McFarlane.

Dan Kelly showered quickly and, as the Government House mess was fairly formal, dressed in a white tuxedo. He picked up his keys and strode out of the mess to his battered, second hand Lanchester 10.

The journey to Central Nassau was slow but uneventful. He found space to park opposite the mess and walked towards the main entrance. McFarlane was at the door, also wearing a tuxedo. Kelly mentally congratulated himself on making the right choice.

“Hello Dan,” said McFarlane, gently shaking Kelly’s hand. “Good to see you again. Come in and we’ll find somewhere quiet and talk over a drink.”

The two men sat in the corner of the members’ lounge, away from the two or three other members enjoying a quiet pre-dinner cocktail, and exchanged pleasantries and small talk for a while. McFarlane was a big man in every sense of the word, physically big with a personality to match. A Scotsman with a thick accent and a ready smile, he was famous for his answer to a question on his personnel file. The question asked, ‘do you speak any foreign languages?’ McFarlane had written, Turkish, Russian, Arabic and English, as he considered his native tongue to be Scots Gaelic.

But there was another side to McFarlane; just under the surface of the affable Scot was a very capable Brigadier who had seen active service throughout the war. When McFarlane said jump, the only question allowed was ‘how high?’ Kelly respected McFarlane and they seemed to gel well together, their common interest in languages being the initial catalyst. McFarlane had quipped once, “Between us we speak half the languages in Europe and Asia, so where do they post us both? The Bahamas! MI5 moves in mysterious ways.”

“You are aware of the staffing levels here in The Bahamas, Dan?” The question was rhetorical; Kelly knew that McFarlane was well aware that he knew all of the operatives well.

“Three G2 and three G3,” Kelly answered, wondering where this was leading.

“Six out of seven isn’t bad,” said McFarlane. “We also have one from department CS as well.” Kelly was genuinely surprised; he had no idea there was an agent from CS operating on the Island.

Department CS was responsible for dealing with Soviet issues and employed a number of undercover agents around the world. In retrospect Kelly realised that he perhaps shouldn’t have been surprised, it was hardly something that would be broadcast widely.

“That is to say, we did have seven,” continued McFarlane. “Watkins has now been repatriated. We still haven’t had his replacement and now Bill Thompson has sprained his ankle badly while water skiing and will be laid up for a month or more.”

“Damned inconsiderate!” said Kelly, half smiling.

“Too right! And that leaves only me on the G3 side.”

“Plus of course your ‘CS’ man,” said Kelly.

“Ah! You see, that’s the point, Dan. She’s gone missing.”

Kelly stared incredulously at McFarlane for a moment before speaking. “Your ‘CS’ man is a woman?”

“Yes, why not?” asked McFarlane. “You worked with women in your time attached to SOE during the war, why not a woman?”

He’s pulled my file, thought Kelly. Outwardly he shrugged his shoulders. “Absolutely no reason,” he said, regaining his composure. “It just took me by surprise.” He paused for a moment to sip his vodka. “And you say you’ve lost her?”

“No,” said McFarlane gravely, “I said she’s gone missing.”

“Robert,” said Kelly, with just a hint of apprehension, “where do I fit into this?”

“I want you to find her.” McFarlane spoke nonchalantly, paused then added, “More to the point, CS1, the Head of CS, wants you to find her.”

“Bob, don’t misunderstand me—the answer is definitely yes, this sounds like the most interesting thing I’ve been tasked with since I joined the service—but I’m just a tad confused.” Kelly enumerated his questions on his fingers as he spoke, “Why me? Why not a G3 agent? It’s their territory. Why has CS1 nominated me? Who am I looking for? And how can anyone get lost on The Bahamas?”

McFarlane chuckled quietly. “Fair comment. Let me attempt to answer your questions, though not necessarily in the order you asked.” He sipped his drink before continuing, “You’re right of course. This is a G3 job, but as we discussed earlier, I am the only G3 person left standing on The Bahamas and our Boss won’t countenance me leaving the island with no cover.”

He shrugged. “Secondly,

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