Free Echobeat by Joe Joyce Page A

country.’
    ‘And there were other bombs?’
    ‘One north of Drogheda, another one near Enniscorthy. And the anti-aircraft unit in Dalkey saw two parachutes come down over Wicklow.’
    ‘Parachutes?’
    ‘Parachute mines apparently.’ McClure looked at his watch. It was after six o’clock, more than three hours to daylight. ‘This bloody night will never end. We haven’t got any reports of explosions or where they came down yet but we’ll get a spotter plane up at first light. And hope nobody stumbles across them before then.’
    Captain Anderson from the British desk looked in, saw McClure and said, ‘You were looking for me, sir?’
    McClure waved him to another chair. ‘Do we know where was hit in England tonight?’
    ‘I haven’t got a comprehensive report yet,’ Anderson said. ‘Seems to have been around the Severn estuary. Cardiff, Bristol.’
    ‘So it could have been someone off course.’
    ‘The lookout post at Carnsore said there were three planes information,’ Sullivan had put down his phone. ‘Heinkell IIIs, he thinks. There was a fair bit of cloud at the time there so he didn’t get a long look at them. They were heading due north.’
    ‘In formation,’ McClure repeated to himself.
    ‘Not a lost stray then,’ Anderson said.
    ‘You could put everything else down to someone being off course,’ McClure said. ‘But not hitting the lit-up city area.’
    ‘What about the parachute mines?’ Duggan offered.
    ‘And those,’ McClure agreed. ‘Whoever dropped them must’ve seen the city lights too.’
    ‘Were they not aimed at shipping? At Dublin bay?’
    ‘The Luftwaffe uses them on land too,’ Anderson said. ‘In the London blitz. They can wipe out a whole street, no problem. There would’ve been a lot of deaths if they came down on the city.’
    ‘But they haven’t exploded,’ McClure said, lighting himself a cigarette. ‘We would’ve had reports of explosions in Wicklow if they had. Which suggests that their fuses were set for the sea. And that they were meant for our ships.’
    ‘Or that they’re on timers,’ Anderson suggested.
    McClure nodded. ‘Put out a warning about timers to the ARP people, the guards. They should know not to go near them but just in case.’
    An orderly came by with a tray carrying mugs of tea, a bottle of milk and a bowl of sugar. They each took one and sipped the strong tea, alone with their own thoughts for a few moments.
    ‘Was it the same plane that dropped the bombs and the mines?’ Duggan asked.
    McClure gave Sullivan a questioning look. ‘It’s not clear yet, sir,’ Sullivan said. ‘Some of the reports suggest it was but we haven’t got all the timings and directions straightened out.’
    ‘So,’ McClure looked from one to the other. ‘What does it all mean?’
    ‘The start of something?’ Duggan asked.
    ‘A new year,’ Anderson shrugged with a twisted grin. ‘Happy New Year.’
    ‘You mean the start of an invasion?’ McClure said. ‘No. If they wanted to soften us up it would be with a much greater blow. Like Rotterdam. Wipe out Cork, someplace like that. To intimidate.’
    ‘It could be a signal,’ Anderson suggested. ‘A message.’
    ‘Could indeed,’ McClure agreed.
    ‘A reminder of what could happen if we give up our neutrality,’ Anderson added. ‘They were only small bombs on the city. They could’ve dropped much bigger ordnance. Like the parachute mines.’
    ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions yet.’ McClure got up and said to Duggan, ‘Give Bill there a hand with collating all the reports and working out the chronology of events.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ Duggan said.
    McClure and Anderson left and Duggan moved down the table to Sullivan’s space. ‘At last you get to do some real intelligence work,’ Sullivan passed him a wad of handwritten notes and torn-off pages from the telex.
     
    He was about to leave and get a few hours’ sleep when the phone rang at the other end of the table. He had to stand