March 12th 1944...

Lieutenant Garrison gently replaced the black phone in its cradle, automatically untwisting the wires as he did so, so that they curled neatly alongside the unit. Had he done the right thing? Siobhan's arguments were compelling. Firstly, that Actor was a commensurate strategist, whether it was playing war games to re-enact the battle of Waterloo or predicting how Stalin would hold the might of the German army at bay, his insights were inevitably accurate and incisive. Secondly, she needed a safe pair of hands at her side. Someone who knew how to play the 'con' game. Someone that she could trust.

That it left his team exposed, he knew. It would be 3 weeks or so before Goniff was fit for action and Diesel was lost to him, committed to Hayter's latest risky scheme. He had to assume that Siobhan wouldn't have risked the call unless her bosses approved what she was proposing, at least in principle. Still, it wouldn't hurt to cross check. He picked up the phone again and asked the operator for a line to London.

G G G

Actor had made his plans for the evening. They were simple, a pipe of tobacco in front of the common room fire whilst he caught up on the latest newspapers. Followed by a soak in one of the elegant cast iron baths, filled way in excess of the regulation six inches of water, after which he would retire to his bed to recuperate from the excesses of the mission.

He got no further than filling his pipe, before the double doors were pushed open and Garrison pushed his head and shoulders through the gap.

Actor looked up.

A few minutes later, message delivered, Garrison left the room to return to his office and the paperwork mountain, leaving a somewhat thoughtful conman behind, contemplating the flames.

At least he had the room to himself, thought Actor. Chief and Casino had headed out straight after dinner, taking Amber and Millie with them. Presumably to visit Goniff, but no one had said.

Thirty minutes later, and no clearer over what Siobhan had planned for him, the Italian headed for the bathrooms. If nothing else, at least he could tend to his sore feet in peace.

Despite the comfort of the hot water, sleep eluded him. He heard Chief and Casino return, but no feminine voices, so Amber must have stayed behind at the hospital and Millie would have been returned to the farm. Garrison had made for his own quarters shortly afterwards, presumably having needed to assure himself of his men's return before letting himself go off duty.

Regardless of his lack of sleep, Actor prepared himself carefully the next morning. A dark suit, white shirt and, at his neck, a diagonally striped college tie which he had no right to, but which he thought would be accepted by the men he was about to meet. He gave a final polish to the gleaming black shoes and checked his appearance in the wardrobe mirror. A brief tug to the front of his jacket, and he was ready.

Despite the Italian being a few minutes early, his British uniform clad driver was already waiting at the foot of the Mansion front steps, chatting nonchalantly with Sergeant-Major Fletcher. He looked up as Actor appeared at the top of the steps, looked briefly at Will, who gave the smallest of nods, then smartly opened the rear door of a nondescript small sedan for his passenger to enter. The Italian let the vestige of a smile cross his lips, before lightly making his way down to the gravel to take his place in the car.

From the Mansion to Beauchamp Place would normally only take minutes. Today they drove straight past the entrance and headed into town. Puzzled, Actor glanced at the gates as they sped past. "I thought..."

The driver glanced up at the rear-view mirror to look at his passenger. "Sorry Sir, got instructions to take you to the station. You're to make out you came in on the London train. There'll be another driver waiting to take you to your meeting. He'll be asking for a man called Ashcroft." The man's eyes flicked back to the road ahead.

Actor relaxed. So, it wasn't to be known who he was or that he came from the Mansion. Someone was going to quite a bit of trouble to cover his tracks.

The car stopped a short distance from the station entrance, close to a wooden picket gate. Bushes would conceal anyone exiting the vehicle from prying eyes. Actor glanced at his wristwatch. He had about five minutes before the train was due. He climbed out of the car and slipped through the picket gate. A few strides and he was on the platform for the westbound train. He ducked into the men's room. From there it would be an easy matter to merge with alighting passengers.

Despite the war, the GWR were keeping to their schedules. Alerted to the train's arrival by the screeching of metal wheels against metal rails and the slamming of carriage doors, Actor emerged from his hiding place and mingled with the small number of other travellers on the platform. Exiting the station he paused and glanced around, as if unsure of his surroundings. A black taxi pulled up in front of him and the civilian driver rolled down his window. "Mister Ashcroft?"

Actor nodded, prompting the driver to climb out, discarding his cigarette in the gutter. "Beauchamp Place they said. Thought the old school was closed down for the duration." The man made to take Actor's briefcase, but the conman declined somewhat curtly.

"Please yourself," the driver muttered, taking up his seat again and lighting a new cigarette. Still, a fare was a fare and he'd been paid well to pick up this stuck-up gent.

The driveway to the old school building gave no indication that the building was in use, with weeds scattered thickly along its length. It was a different story for the house itself. The semi-circular parking area was littered with vehicles. Most were similar unmarked black sedans to the one that had taken him to the station, clearly 'incognito' was the order of the day.

Climbing out, Actor gave the driver a small tip then made his way slowly towards the entrance to the house. As he transitioned from daylight to the shade of the oak panelled hallway, he noted the heavily armed soldiers flanking his path. Security was low key, but tight. He stopped and waited.

A door opened to his right. "So, you decided to join us."

The conman inclined his head slightly in greeting. "I didn't know I had a choice, Siobhan. You have friends in high places."

The Irish woman laughed. "You always have a choice, macushla." She smiled. Whether it was the smile of a crocodile or that of a friend, the man in question was unsure.

He looked at her critically. Her hair had grown, yet again, and was now captured behind two tortoiseshell combs. She had lost weight too. Her grey suit would never have been flattering, but now the skirt hung on her hips and the jacket bagged over her bust. There were shadows under her eyes that had not been there a few weeks ago. Whatever she had been doing was taking its toll.

Siobhan knew she was being appraised and was failing the test. She was not a vain woman, but for some reason it mattered that the Italian thought well of her. She put the thought to the back of her mind. "There is someone who would like to meet you." She turned on her heel and led the way down a corridor, through a black oak door that led to what was presumably a servants staircase - a way for the staff to move about the house when it had been a private residence, without being seen or heard.

Another small door found them in an antechamber on the second floor. A man of medium height, wearing an expensive, tailored, brown suit was standing at the lead-paned windows, staring absently into the distance, deep in thought. He turned as the two people entered the room and smiled affably. He looked Actor up and down, before directing his gaze at Siobhan.

"Am I surprised that he's a handsome chap?"

"You said to choose the best, and he's the best. You didn't mention what he should look like, Tommy."

Tommy's smile turned into a guffaw of genuine laughter. "Touché, my dear." He turned away from the window and moved towards the ink-splattered pine table that was doing double duty as desk and dining table, its surface equally filled with papers and dirty crockery. He looked at the mess with a somewhat perplexed expression, as if confused as to how it came to be.

With a tut of frustration, Siobhan came to his rescue, as he'd known she would, stacking the plates and cutlery into a neat pile and depositing them by the door.

Actor had remained rooted to the spot at the point where he'd entered the room, watching the interplay with interest. The two were clearly very comfortable in each other's presence. Were they lovers?

Grey eyes looked into his. "Are you really the best?" The challenge was palpable. The conman took a slow breath and met the eyes coolly and calmly. His instinct had been to respond aggressively, but he was too much the consummate professional to react as expected.

"I'll let you be the judge of that," he replied quietly. He took a few more paces into the room.

Tommy tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"You know why we've asked you here today?"

Actor's reply was non-committal. "I understand someone has suggested I might be a fresh pair of eyes. Might see aspects that others have missed?" It was the reason Garrison had been given, but neither he nor Actor had been convinced.

A war strategy team, such as the one that was reputed to be gathered here, would already be staffed with the best minds in the country. What could an Italian American conman contribute apart from a passing acquaintance with the way things were in places like Duisburg and Caen?

"That's partly the reason." Tommy rearranged a few sheets of paper on the table but did not appear to read anything. Perhaps it was his way of marshalling his thoughts, Actor concluded. He glanced at Siobhan, standing quietly a few paces to his right, but could not tell from her expression what might be coming next.

"When we're finished here, there is something else we would like you to do for us, something that is suited to your other talents, shall we say... that is, we need someone to accompany Sprite to a particular event."

"Sprite?" Despite himself, Actor was curious.

Tommy waved a vague hand in Siobhan's direction.

It was Siobhan that enlightened him. "He gives codenames to all the people who work for him. Garbo, ZigZag, Tricycle, Sprite... I'm sure you won't be excluded."

"Lothario."

Siobhan snorted then tried to cover it up as a sneeze. She delved into her handbag for a handkerchief, preventing Actor from seeing just how appropriate she thought the codename would be.

"And what might this event be?"

"I'll leave it up to Siobhan to tell you anything you need to know."

It was obvious from the man's body language that the meeting was at an end. "Right, Lothario, time to meet the planning committee and we'll leave this man to his web-weaving." Siobhan was already moving towards the other door from the room, the one by which she'd placed the crockery.

Actor followed. He was not much wiser over what was about to take place, but one of the code names Siobhan had divulged had rung the faintest of bells, Agent Garbo. Someone had mentioned that name when he'd been at a party in Lisbon. If he wasn't wrong, and he rarely was, Garbo was a British double-agent. Alarm bells began to ring.

Actor waited until the antechamber door was closed behind them, before he took two long strides to catch up the Irish woman. He grabbed her by the nearest arm and spun her round to face him.

"Siobhan, it's time you levelled with me. What is going on here and what is it you expect of me?" Actor's anger was palpable, his tone icy and Siobhan knew it. It had been naive to hope that he would simply go along with any plan without knowing what he was being asked to do, and why. With a deep sigh she looked him in the eye.

"I'd have preferred to have left divulging the details until later, but if you insist..."

They were in what had once been a bedchamber. Now, it was simply a large empty space with moth-eaten carpets and faded red damask curtains. A large bay-window with leaded windows that matched those of the antechamber looked down over weed-encrusted formal gardens. Siobhan led the way to the window-seat and arranged herself neatly, smoothing her grey worsted skirt. Actor had remained standing, still stiff with suppressed anger.

"Tell me," he snapped.

Despite the business suit it could have been an SS officer that was facing her. Despite herself, Siobhan felt a frisson of fear. She had been treating this man as a fluffy kitten. Now she found herself facing the teeth and claws of a tiger.

She took a calming breath. "We're planning for an invasion."

Actor snorted. That had been known for weeks. He waited, knowing instinctively that silence was his best approach.

"Hitler expects that any attack will be directed at the Pas de Calais. It is important that he continues to think so."

"And what is my role in this?"

"There is some information that Allied Intelligence wants to fall into German hands and that information needs to come from a source the Abwehr will trust. Today, you will be allowed to have access to that information then, if things go to plan, you will be recruited to spy for Germany.

Despite himself, Actor found himself intrigued by the challenges laid before him. "Who is this mysterious person the Germans will trust?"

"They won't trust the person, but they will trust the source," corrected Siobhan, "and they will believe the information that person gives them." She was feeling more confident now. If Actor was still in the room and was asking questions, there was a good chance he was attracted by the prospect of the con.

"Your alias is Roland Ashcroft. He's a career civil servant, educated at Charterhouse and Oxford and has spent the last year in the United States, seconded to General Patton's staff. In reality that has meant he's been doing very little whilst Patton's been unemployed. Doing 'very little' has suited Ashcroft very well indeed, letting him follow his natural inclinations to party and socialise with beautiful women, but now Patton has a new job as commander of FUSAG, Ashcroft is back in England."

"FUSAG?"

"The First US Army Group," elucidated Siobhan, although it still meant nothing to Actor. He decided to put the question on the back burner. He wanted to know more about Ashcroft. So far, he thought he could handle the role, providing he didn't meet someone who wanted to quiz him on his education. "Go on," he prompted, moving to the window seat and sitting down.

"FUSAG will be the primary attack force for the invasion," continued Siobhan, "and they will be based in the south-east. Patton will be over here soon to inspect the preparations and Ashcroft will take part in some of the planning sessions then head for Kent to familiarise himself with the lie of the land."

"A lot of effort seems to have been put into creating this alias," commented Actor.

"Almost none," contradicted Siobhan. "He's a real person and was due to come to Britain. Unfortunately, he met an untimely end about three weeks ago when his car hit some black ice. Let's say his untimely demise has offered MI5 an opportunity they are keen to exploit."

"And the other matter that Tommy hinted at?"

Siobhan glanced at her watch. They were running late. "I'll tell you the rest later, if you can bear with me for a few hours." She paused. "Do you have enough information for you to be going on with? Can you masquerade as Ashcroft?"

"Of course," responded Actor, knowing as he spoke the words that he had just committed himself to playing 'Lothario'. Of course he could play the role. It would be simple for a man of his skills. Whether he wanted to or not, was now immaterial.

"In that case, follow me." The Irish woman rose elegantly to her feet and resumed her interrupted journey.

G G G

Out of the bedchamber, down a more formal staircase and along the central hallway, Siobhan led him unerringly to a large room at the rear of the building. She clearly knew the layout, of this old country house cum school, intimately.

There were ten people currently in the room, mostly men but there were also two women. A map of Europe dominated the central table, and a vociferous debate was currently in progress. Conversation had stopped mid-sentence though as Actor and Siobhan had entered.

"Gentlemen, ladies. I think it was explained to you earlier that you would have a guest at today's sessions? I would like to introduce you to Roland Ashcroft, a civilian member of General Patton's staff. You should have been sent his security clearance this morning from London?" Siobhan looked at one of the men, who nodded in affirmation. "Good," she continued, "I hope you will give him your full cooperation and bring him up to speed with what is being discussed."

The tension in the room had noticeably racked down once the planning team knew the identity of the new recruit but, Actor felt, not to the level it had been before his arrival. Perhaps something of Ashcroft's reputation had reached the group.

The man who had acknowledged the security clearance question came over and shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you Mister Ashcroft. I'm Dennis. Let me introduce you to the rest of the team and show you what we're working on today."

G G G

It was dark before the planning session finally ended and the participants headed for the dining room and a much-anticipated evening meal. Actor stretched his back and suppressed a yawn. It had been engrossing stuff, but now it had ended he realised he was tired and hungry. Sandwiches and a drink of 'orange squash' had been brought in for lunch and eaten perched on chairs around the perimeter of the room, the refreshments mingling with discarded miniature tanks, aircraft and tin soldiers.

The Irish woman had been absent most of the afternoon. He could understand why. She wasn't involved in the logistical debate and, with the blackouts and windows closed, the room had been airless and thick with cigarette smoke. Now she materialised at his elbow. "They've laid us up a separate supper in the Master's sitting room."

In truth, Actor was quite relieved. Whether his exclusion was because matters would be discussed over dinner that were not for his ears, he neither knew nor cared. His mind was whirling with trying to remember which parts of which army were to be stationed where. Slowly he followed Siobhan as she once again led him through the corridors to yet another part of the building. The sitting room was small, furnished with two threadbare armchairs and a low coffee table, but warmed by a small coal fire burning merrily in its black-leaded grate.

The coffee table was filled with two silver-coloured cloches lying on wooden trays. A bottle of white wine resided on ice in a bucket flanked by two simple, unembellished, wine-glasses. Actor lifted one of the cloches to inspect what lay underneath. Braised chicken, roast potatoes, broad-beans and carrots with gravy. A typical British Sunday dinner – except it wasn't Sunday.

Siobhan poured two glasses of wine then perched on one of the armchairs with one of the trays on her lap. Taking her lead, Actor did the same.

"Who was the man I met this morning?"

"Tommy?" asked Siobhan tiredly. "Thomas Argyll Robertson, MI5 section B1(a). He's responsible for agent recruitment. The plan we're following is courtesy of Cecil Masterman's Twenty Committee."

If Actor had been surprised at Siobhan sharing the code names of three double-agents he was even more surprised at her revealing the names and roles of two senior intelligence officers. "Why would MI5 trust someone with my record with plans for the invasion of Europe?"

Siobhan looked at the Italian with that slightly condescending expression she adopted when dealing with idiots. "They don't, but from their point of view it's a risk worth taking. I was told I could tell you anything I needed to get you to take on the job, and none of it is exactly top secret. The Abwehr know exactly who TAR and Masterman are. As for criminal records, I doubt there are many operatives on either side of the fence that don't have one. It sort of goes with the territory."

They ate in silence. Eventually, Actor put his tray back on the table and relaxed back into his seat, wine glass held loosely in his hand. Siobhan had barely touched her food and was still pushing items around on the plate, clearly knowing she should eat, but lacked the will to do so.

"Would you like me to raid the kitchens for something you prefer?"

Siobhan looked up in surprise, then down at her plate, before smiling wryly. "Dublin Bay prawns, lobster…?" She gave up the battle with the chicken and added her tray to Actor's. Truth be told, there wasn't really much wrong with the food. She was simply too exhausted to eat.

Actor refilled her wine glass whilst he considered what to say next. "I should be getting back to base. It's late and you're tired." He pulled himself to his feet. "I assume someone can drive me back?"

Siobhan smiled tiredly. "You don't think you're getting off that easily, do you?"

Actor raised a quizzical eyebrow. He had deliberately not brought up the question of what else TAR wanted him to do. Today he'd been briefed. Next, he assumed, his presence would be brought to the attention of the Nazis.

"We leave for London, tonight. I've had someone bring your things over from the house. They should be waiting downstairs."

Waiting in the hallway were a pair of chestnut-coloured leather suitcases, complete with brass furniture, reinforced corners and leather restraining straps. They must have cost a fortune – and they weren't his... or hadn't been until now. On top was a small canvas hold-all that he knew intimately. It held his make-over kit and personal grooming items. Standing guard over the luggage was someone he knew very well.

"Emerald?"

Actor hadn't seen the ex-land girl for some weeks, since she'd been offered, and accepted, a job working for Siobhan. He shouldn't have been surprised to see her, but he was. He also knew that, having cared for him whilst he recovered from the influenza, she was intimately acquainted with both his belongings and his habits.

"Hope I haven't forgotten anything," she said, looking critically at the suitcases. "Siobhan said to pack enough for three weeks travelling around Britain. You wouldn't need formal attire, but you might be dining out."

"How's Saffie?"

The worried expression disappeared for a moment. "She's doing fine, thanks. Keeping herself busy preparing for Molly's wedding. I'll pop over and see auntie tomorrow, once this is all over. Pick up any last-minute instructions." She looked at Siobhan. "Your bags are in the car. Is there anything else you need tonight?"

The Irish woman shook her head. "No, that's perfect Em. Thanks for doing that. Wasn't fair to ask you really, but I knew you'd know where everything was and what he'd need."

Em smiled. "Not a problem Siobhan. Only too willing to help, but if you're done with me, I'm heading to bed. We've another long day tomorrow."

Actor watched the leggy blonde stride confidently down the corridor and disappear from sight. "She's settling in well, I take it?"

"Seems to be working out well for all concerned," was the distracted reply. "We'd better get on our way."

The Irish woman was on the move already, heading for the front doors, leaving Actor to pick up his cases and follow behind.

The parking area out front was much less busy than when he'd arrived, but by no means deserted. Parked under the stone canopy was a large, powerful car with sweeping lines and a silver mascot of a leaping cat on its bonnet.

Actor stowed the cases behind the front seats. "Would you like me to drive." Tired though he was, the prospect of driving the 3.5 litre, 6-cylinder car appealed immensely. As did the fact that he would feel safer, since it seemed likely Siobhan might fall asleep at the wheel.

She nodded, having had similar thoughts herself.

It was well after midnight before he began negotiating the roads of the capital. With his travelling companion deeply asleep, Actor headed for his own apartment. It would make life altogether simpler, from his perspective at least.

Leaving the car to its fate outside, Actor ferried both Siobhan and their cases into the first floor flat. The cases he dumped in the hallway. The woman, he carried to his own bedroom. She barely stirred when he divested her of shoes, jacket and skirt then covered her with sheet and blankets. The room was cold and slightly damp, so he lit the small gas fire before heading for the bathroom.

Clean, and equipped with a protective armour of pyjamas and robe, Actor slipped into bed alongside Siobhan. He needed sleep and if the woman objected to him sharing the bed, it was a discussion they could have in the morning.