Read Hornet Flight for Free Online

This time he was not grinning.
    He had succeeded in surprising her. Men did not often say she was beautiful. Handsome, perhaps; striking, sometimes; imposing, often. Her face was a long oval, perfectly regular, but with severe dark hair, hooded eyes, and a nose too big to be pretty. She could not think of a witty rejoinder. “What’s the other reason?”
    He glanced sideways. Two older women were sharing their table, and although they were chatting to each other, they were probably also half-listening to Digby and Hermia. “I’ll tell you in a minute,” he said. “Would you like to go out on the tiles?”
    He had surprised her again. “What?”
    â€œWill you go out with me?”
    â€œCertainly not.”
    For a moment he seemed nonplussed. Then his grin returned, and he said, “Don’t sugar the pill, give it to me straight.”
    She could not help smiling.
    â€œWe could go to the pictures,” he persisted. “Or to the Shoulder of Mutton Pub in Old Bletchley. Or both.”
    She shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said firmly.
    â€œOh.” He seemed crestfallen.
    Did he think she was turning him down because of his disability? Shehastened to put that right. “I’m engaged,” she said. She showed him the ring on her left hand.
    â€œI didn’t notice.”
    â€œMen never do.”
    â€œWho’s the lucky fellow?”
    â€œA pilot in the Danish army.”
    â€œOver there, I presume.”
    â€œAs far as I know. I haven’t heard from him for a year.”
    The two ladies left the table, and Digby’s manner changed. His face turned serious and his voice became quiet but urgent. “Take a look at this, please.” He drew from his pocket a sheet of flimsy paper and handed it to her.
    She had seen such flimsy sheets before, here at Bletchley Park. As she expected, it was a decrypt of an enemy radio signal.
    â€œI imagine I’ve no need to tell you how desperately secret this is,” Digby said.
    â€œNo need.”
    â€œI believe you speak German as well as Danish.”
    She nodded. “In Denmark, all schoolchildren learn German, and English and Latin as well.” She studied the signal for a moment. “Information from Freya?”
    â€œThat’s what’s puzzling us. It’s not a word in German. I thought it might mean something in one of the Scandinavian languages.”
    â€œIt does, in a way,” she said. “Freya is a Norse goddess—in fact she’s the Viking Venus, the goddess of love.”
    â€œAh!” Digby looked thoughtful. “Well, that’s something, but it doesn’t get us far.”
    â€œWhat’s this all about?”
    â€œWe’re losing too many bombers.”
    Hermia frowned. “I read about the last big raid in the newspapers—they said it was a great success.”
    Digby just looked at her.
    â€œOh, I see,” she said. “You don’t tell the newspapers the truth.”
    He remained silent.
    â€œIn fact, my entire picture of the bombing campaign is merepropaganda,” she went on. “The truth is that it’s a complete disaster.” To her dismay, he still did not contradict her. “For heaven’s sake, how many aircraft did we lose?”
    â€œFifty percent.”
    â€œDear God.” Hermia looked away. Some of those pilots had fiancées, she thought. “But if this goes on . . .”
    â€œExactly.”
    She looked again at the decrypt. “Is Freya a spy?”
    â€œIt’s my job to find out.”
    â€œWhat can I do?”
    â€œTell me more about the goddess.”
    Hermia dug back into her memory. She had learned the Norse myths at school, but that was a long time ago. “Freya has a gold necklace that is very precious. It was given to her by four dwarves. It’s guarded by the watchman of the gods . . . Heimdal, I think his name